Iaine searched around her hut for the necessary treatments. Two days later and the child had still not awakened from his state. The druids had not attempted to rouse him yet, allowing his body to heal…at least as much as it could. Cigfa and she had spent several hours huddled around young Pelles's frame. The wolves had torn at him so badly that one leg was nearly ripped off. They had been forced to finished the job themselves.

Care for the boy had been assigned to Iaine and Mozenrath, who, according to Cigfa, deserved a chance to see what his rescue had brought about. She had to admit, he seemed adamant about caring for Pelles, though most of what he did was assist the two women. Men, at least in her opinion, were not as suited to healing as women. It wasn't that they could not heal. It was simply not in their nature. Young males were always convinced of their invincibility, adult males of their superiority. Older men ignored the injuries and those near death did not want to admit how close they were. Besides, the healing Druids had been women successively for the past six generations. It was tradition.

Still, Iaine felt pity well up for young Pelles. She recognized him immediately from the little, tight nit group of village orphans. A child who no longer had their birth parents was by no means short of kin. They were simply adopted by the village as a whole, fed and clothed and disciplines and given lodging until they because old enough to take up a trade. Then it was the responsibility of their new master to see to a boy's welfare. Pelles had been taken up by the herdsmen just last year and had show promise, unlike the other boys who snuck off to eat sweet clover to bath in the stream, by sticking to his duties and keeping a close eye over the herds. Now, with a leg missing and his left arm broken, there would be few who could take him on as apprentice. Theirs was a very physical life, most days were filled with hard, vigorous activity.

Pity he was not born Druid. Iaine thought as she crossed the village to Cigfa's hut. As a Druid he would not have to worry about battle or hard labor, most of his time would be devoted to studies. Perhaps, if puberty had not lowered his voice unpleasantly, she could talk to Kilydd about taking Pelles on as apprentice bard. If they boy was not Druid it would matter little, he could still take up as a musician in some nobles court.

Iaine pauses as she drew the door flap aside and saw Mozenrath bent over the youth, his lips pressed firmly to Pelles's. Suddenly he drew back, took another sip from a steaming bowl and pried the boy's mouth open again, massaging the throat until the brother went down. It was a tedious and time consuming process, but as he had yet to awaken from his accident, it was the only way to keep him fed.

Iaine felt her chest twinge a little. The scene touched her deeper than she cared to admit. She had not considered Mozenrath to be the kind of person willing to put such care into another human being.

Remember who he was. Her mind warned her strongly. The tales of his cruelty reached even this island. You heard the stories, you saw proof of them when that strange necromancer kidnapped you.

The man that was is not the same as the man that is. This voice only made the twinge in her chest burn hard. Iaine looked in at Mozenrath again. Look at what he has become Iaine, his past is exactly where it belongs. Her thoughts swam as she realized Mozenrath was looking at her. She did not flinch but walk inside quickly and began to set herself to work at Pelles's wounds. "How is he doing?"

Mozenrath looked her over for a moment, feeling strange, then answered softly. "He's doing better. At least he's stopped trying to fight in his sleep. I checked his leg this morning, no odd smells but there is some strange coloration near the knee you might want to look at."

Iaine gently unwrapped the bandages and nodded. "A minor infection. I'll need your help in making a compress and salve. But it's nothing to worry about." She took her bag and removed crushed marigold and hemp. "Here, grind that up together and soak it in a small cup of water. I'll smooth it out later." She began setting about making a comfrey compress for the leg.

A few moments passed in silence as they worked on the young boy. Suddenly, Mozenrath turned and put a hand on Iaine's shoulder. "I'm sorry. You know…for… well…for the obvious."

Iaine chuckled under her breath. "You were being male, it's a common enough mistake if you swell between the legs." And, if Savern didn't fib, you swell quite a bit. She hushed herself and turned away to avoid letting Mozenrath see the blush. She heard an embarrassed cough from him and chided herself for being so coarse. "And I was being female, a common enough mistake…"

"If you swell at the chest." Mozenrath muttered, unsure of how she would take his jibe. To his surprise, Iaine let out a strong, clear laugh and turned back around to face him. He grinned back and suddenly felt stronger. "Truce?" he said shortly.

"Truce." Iaine agreed. "Druids have better things to do than argue amongst themselves." She wrapped the young boys wound back up and made sure to press it firm. "Speaking of which, now that we are no longer avoiding each other, you still have lessons to continue."

Mozenrath nodded and they waited until Cigfa returned to take charge over Pelles. Iaine put her things back in the hut and they headed off for the river. She preferred teaching him by the cool waters, they helped her keep her head and thoughts grounded. This time of year, the waters were positively stunning. Huge blankets of white coated the banks, giving away the foot prints of wildlife. The river itself was a sheet of glass, fish just barely visible beneath it as they swam to stay alive. The sun hid behind a veil of clouds, letting the world shine with a blue silver glow.

Mozenrath looked over at Iaine. Her skin was the color of oak trees and her hair was like a bonfire rising from the woods. And, of course, her eyes. Those hazel green eyes that held a spark of the Otherworld. Now that he thought about it, she looked a little different from the others of the tribe. Both her mother and father looked altogether human, even Tristan, with his wisdom that seemed near divine at time, did not give off the same aura as Iaine did. He would have to ask her about her ancestry one day.

Mozenrath and Iaine sat down together beside the willow tree, speaking of the changes of the natural world. The lessons had changed since from when Mozenrath had first begun. It used to be a great deal of listening, keeping his mouth shut and being smacked around for his smart mouth. But now it seemed as though he was being actively asked for his opinion. It seemed more like holding a deeply philosophical conversation than actively being taught anything. But he was learning to ask questions, if not interpret the answers.

Not long into the lesson, Essus walked by, with Savern wrapped tightly around his arm. He made himself conspicuous by his overdone attempts to ignore them, for when he saw Iaine and Mozenrath sitting (if truth be told) a little closer than normal, he grimaced and snapped away from them, almost dragging Savern with him. If she seemed bothered by his possessive behavior, neither could tell, for the wench held a secretive smile on her face.

"Why does he despise me so?" Mozenrath asked absentmindedly. "What did I ever do to him?"

"Other lives maybe." Iaine sighed. "Sometimes, people are great enemies in their lives before this one, and they never quite get over the enmity. But, if I had to hazard a guess in this age…I'd say he sees you as competition." She dared not say too much of what Tristan had confided in her, official decisions had not yet been made. But she could let the light shine on him a little. "It's no secret that since you showed Druidic potential, Tristan has not paid as much attention to the supposed 'future Chief Druid' as he might like. Besides, there are…certain things…that Essus would like very much to have and can not possess."

"If he's Chief Druid potential, why can't he have them?" Mozenrath asked, not quite picking up the hint.

"Because…" Iaine said in a cold voice. "He would not deserve nor appreciate them."

Mozenrath turned, very slowly, to meet Iaine's stunning eyes with his own elegant gray ones. "And…are you saying that I deserve these things?" A twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips gave him hope.

"Maybe…maybe not." Iaine hummed and swung her hair over her shoulder.

They fall so gently to the ground
And say so much yet make no sound.
I reach out toward the brilliant sky.
I've lived enough. Now let me die.

To Be Continued…