Alennia woke, screaming.
It was those dreams again. Dreams she hadn't had since the first few days after the Saxon raid. Dreams in which she could see the blood, hear the screams, so vividly that she was back there – a frightened child, cowering from the men killing her kin.
The dreams, or rather, nightmares, had haunted her for the first few nights, but then, mercifully, they had suddenly stopped. And now they had started again, and Alennia knew that if they continued, she would be a shivering wreck in a few days: on the point of exhaustion, both mentally and physically, but too terrified to sleep.
Not the way the leader of the Clan of the Wolf should be behaving.
And now, in the cold night air, as her sobs eventually began to subside, and she wrapped her arms around her knees, shivering uncontrollably, she heard soothing words murmured in her ear, a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a comforting hand smoothing her hair down.
Alennia looked up to find Armelle there. The older woman looked at Alennia not with pity, not even with sympathy, but with empathy. And Alennia slowly began to relax. There was not a person under her command who had not gone through the hell that she had done. There was rarely a night when distant sobs, sometimes even screams were heard. These were people who had suffered, and they clung to each other for support, because no one else could even begin to comprehend the sheer horror of all they had seen.
Alennia finally managed a shaky laugh. "Not a very good leader, am I, to get frightened by mere dreams?"
"Dreams are often, if not always, worse than the reality. You know this."
Alennia gave Armelle a lopsided smile. "What would I do without you?" she asked weakly.
"Probably blame yourself for everything!"
"Probably."
"Sleep now," Armelle said gently. "They will not return tonight."
Alennia looked at her with mistrustful eyes, but the older woman pulled the blankets up around her, and Alennia submitted, and let herself return to sleep with Armelle's soothing voice humming beside her.
Watching her sleep, Armelle was struck by just how young she was. Not that there weren't those younger than her fighting: indeed, Armelle knew that there were those who had hardly seen their twelfth summer among the clan, and yet fought with the same ferocity as those twice, three times their age.
And yet Alennia led them all. A whole clan's lives rested in her young hands. She could not be much older than twenty, probably younger, Armelle estimated, and for a child of that age to bear such a great burden was not an easy task.
The older woman sighed, and smoothed the sleeping girl's hair back. For if what she thought was true, leadership was not the only burden that she had to carry.
Armelle walked just behind Alennia, and, as ever, she was worrying about her leader. Alennia was becoming increasingly pale and withdrawn. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and her face wore a tired, hagged look.
Time and again Armelle had tried to persuade Alennia to get some sleep, but she would insist on staying up on watch all night. If Armelle tried to push the subject Alennia would get angry and demand to know who led the clan. Her temper was getting progressively shorter, and Armelle knew she would have to do something about it sooner or later.
Alennia was all-too aware of Armelle's constant proximity to her. She knew she was getting angry irrationally, and while afterwards she felt guilty for snapping at people who were only trying to help her, she could not seem to help herself.
It all came down to cowardice. An ugly word, Alennia though, for an ugly emotion. But it was true. She was afraid to face the nightmares that then haunted her even when she was awake. She knew she could not continue without sleeping forever, but putting off the inevitable gave her some strength, and she lived for the hope that when she finally collapsed with exhaustion, she would be too tired to dream.
And yet was she too live like this forever? She was a coward, as well as a traitor, and it was her own self-loathing that made her push those closest to her away, and lash out at them. Guilt would overtake her for hours afterwards, but she was still too proud to admit that she had been wrong, and so an uneasy stalemate ensued.
And so it was with partial shock and relief that Alennia heard Armelle proposing to go for a short walk 'to investigate the area they would be camping in' as she put it. Glad that she would have the opportunity to apologise to Armelle without havening to make the first move, Alennia agreed readily, and the two women walked away from the camp.
They walked in an uneasy silence, until hey were well out of earshot of the camp, and then Armelle finally spoke.
"Alennia," she said, and even that took Alennia by surprise. Usually Armelle was the soul of courtesy, and never before had she called her by her name. "You are my leader, and I accept that I have no right to tell you what to do, but here it is. If you throw me out of the clan, so be it, but there are some things you need to be told."
Alennia leaned back against a tree, too tired to respond to Armelle's statement.
"One," Armelle began, "You need to sleep. There will be nights when you have nightmares, and there will be nights when you don't. You will kill all of us if you try to make decisions in the state you are in now."
That shook Alennia up a bit, but she remained silent, and Armelle continued.
"Two: no matter how low an opinion you have of yourself, these people will follow you to death if you ask it of them. Give them the honour of believing in what they're fighting for. Let them think you believe in yourself, even if you do not."
She turned to study Alennia, and the two remained silent for some time. Alennia was simply too exhausted to argue, and Armelle was assessing how safe it would be to continue with her next and final point. Finally deciding from her commander's silence that she was not going to get thrown out of the clan, she continued.
"And the last thing, is that I want you to trust me."
Alennia raised her weary eyes inquisitively to Armelle's face.
"I know that there is something going on that you are not telling me about," Armelle explained. "I saw him come to the camp a few weeks ago, and I do not know what he said, but I know that since then you have been struggling against something. I ask you to trust me enough to tell me what it is that troubles you."
Alennia stood still in shock for a moment, before recovering her suprise and replying. "You would despise me if you knew," Alennia said weakly.
"If I am going to judge you, I would have done so already," Armelle said in her ever-practical voice.
Alennia stood in silence for a moment, bringing her hands up to wipe her eyes wearily. Armelle had just decided that she was not going to be answered, when Alennia finally spoke.
"It is a knight," she said bluntly.
"What is he to you?"
Alennia brought her head up sharply. She had not been expecting that question. She shrugged lightly. "He saved my life once. I have met him a few times since then. He is an acquaintance, nothing more."
Armelle studied Alennia's ravaged face.
"Tell me," she said gently.
There was a short silence before she got her answer. "I love him!" Alennia burst forth savagely. "I love him and I don't even want to! I can't show any weakness, I have to keep my senses while deep down, where no one can hear me, I am screaming." Tears were streaming down her face at this point. Tears full of anger and pain.
Armelle stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around the woman who shuddered as she wept. Alennia stiffened as Armelle embraced her, but after a moment she relaxed, unable to fight any more.
"And him?" Armelle asked after a while.
"Oh it doesn't matter!" Alennia said despairingly. "He's a knight. An enemy. It would make it easier if he didn't care about me, because then giving him up would not be so painful."
Armelle smoothed Alennia's hair down as she cradled her.
"And now he's gone to the other side of the country, and I probably won't see him for years. Maybe never again. But something inside me won't give up hoping."
She paused and her breathing became slowly less ragged.
"The day I met him, the nightmares stopped. And now he has left me again, they have started up again!" she looked imploringly at Armelle, as if seeking an answer.
"I think," Armelle said, drying Alennia's cheeks gently. "That you are dreaming because of all the burdens you carry. And I think that if you know that I am supporting you, then they will cease and you will no longer feel like you cannot continue."
"Really?" Alennia said in an imploring voice.
Of course not! Armelle thought like saying. How am I supposed to know why you are dreaming? You only need to think that you will be better and you will be. How I am meant to know how a lover's mind works?
But she only said, "Yes, of course. Now come. Get some sleep. Then you will be able to lead your people and they will respect you for that."
Alennia nodded meekly, and complied as Armelle led her back to the camp and tucked her up under her blankets. And when she was comfortable and warm, with her eyes closed and the ghost of a smile on her face, she whispered four words, so soft that Armelle had to strain to catch them.
"His name is Tristan."