Bird peered down into the glossy waters of a puddle by the road, startled by the difference she saw between her reflection and the girl she'd been. Sure, some things had ceased to surprise her--the loose tumble of dark curls, falling around her face into a thick mane, the large brown eyes, copper hued skin tanned darker by the sun--but even the most minute of details caught her eye. It was part of what made her a good warrior. For one thing, the pale, blotchy scar at the base of her throat. A reminder of the injury that had nearly cost her her life.
There were, of course, the typical brown and green garments of the Demonai, and the glittering amulet of the lidless, flaming eye around her neck, but these weren't the things that drew her attention. It was, indeed, the mark on her skin, and the warrior braids that twined through her thick mane of hair. The reminders that she'd killed. Could do it again, if the need arose. Bird--Night Bird Demonai, her mind mocked her--understood the way the clans kept wizards in check; it was the way the Fells had operated since the Breaking, but lately she wasn't so sure it was the right way. Sure, they were just twists in her hair, but it was what they represented: blood on her hands. Blood she feared she could never wash away; maybe even the Maker couldn't erase those sins.
Maybe there are things that can't be forgiven. She knew, technically, that it had been self-defense and defense of the blooded queen, but the dead men's faces had haunted her dreams for many a night now, no matter how many times she dosed her tea with turtleweed. It was Dancer who had suggested she come and stay at Marisa Pines for a few weeks, thinking the familiar surroundings might ease her mind.
She couldn't really resist, not when Dancer himself and his beloved Catfire would be visiting as well, taking a much-needed break from diplomacy in Fellsmarch. The Demonai warrior quirked a half smile at the thought of her cousin and his streetlord lover. Well, former streetlord, as Cat would tell him teasingly over and over. She said that, Bird mused, but still wore a Ragger scarf in her hair and another tied round her wrist. Clearly the life was hard to give up.
At least Raisa and Han seemed to be doing well. They sent letters up from Fellsmarch often, keeping their friends updated on all the happenings in the flatlands. Bird appreciated it, though the tales of their exploits made her wonder about her own; what were the Demonai going to do now that the queen of the Fells was married to her own High Wizard? As happy as everyone had been for them, it was unclear how a marriage that violated the Næming could bring anything good to the table.
Her own clan seemed to be on the brink of collapse now, what with Nightwalker dead, and at her hands, though Elena Cennestre had pardoned her before her fellow Demonai. Though..she sighed and stood up, skimming her hands through the water to break up the reflection. At least they hadn't gone to war with Arden, thank the Maker, but..
Again and again her thoughts skittered back around to the dead men. How had she ever thought she could be a warrior without killing? How pathetic, feeling sorry for killing jinxflingers.
But..Hunts Alone is a jinxflinger. Bird worried her lower lip between her teeth, starting to gather her gear and saddle her pony back up. Her mind felt clouded even without the turtleweed, and she had the overwhelming urge to get to Marisa Pines. Willo will know what to do.
Swinging up onto the shaggy beast with practiced ease, Night Bird spurred the animal on, feeling something like peace wash over her as she rode on toward Hanalea, not out of haste but simply for the joy of it. The feel of the crisp mountain wind brushing through her locks and cooling her skin was indescribable, far fresher than the tainted air down in the flatlands. Certainly better than the coal-choked smoke of Delphi, which was now only a vague memory from her travels down to Oden's Ford.
The sight of the mountain peaks rising in the distance, resting places of the dead and sainted queens, always brought her a measure of comfort, though now she wondered just how much of that feeling came from the knowledge that wizards were not allowed in the Spirit Mountains.
The warrior froze up, though, when a small noise caught her attention, and whipped around to find the source, but she grinned when she saw it.
Dancer and Cat sat on Dancer's pony, Wicked, and both wore eager smiles when they spotted Bird. Granted, Cat didn't know Bird as well as Dancer did, but months of communicating through letters had gotten their respective personalities across to each other well, and there was one main thing they could agree on..
Blades are quicker than jinxes.
Still, there was an air of awkwardness that surrounded them, even now that they knew the Fells were (mostly) in a state of peace. Dancer kept glancing rather incredulously at his cousin's Demonai getup, while Bird rolled her eyes. It wasn't like he hadn't known, he was there to see her be named a Demonai, after all, but she figured he had expected her to drop that when Han and Raisa got married. Sporting reminders that she'd been trained to kill wizards when a wizard was now the royal consort was maybe not the best idea, his eyes said, but Bird just gave him her best stone-faced look. Cat watched the exchange with some amusement, toying with one of the blades she kept tucked away in her clothes.
It was Bird who attempted to break the silence first, tamping down the urge to greet her cousin in rapid-fire Clan. As much as she wanted to get along with Cat, the anxiety that had already been worming its way through her mind demanded she get out of this situation as quickly as possible, but she knew the former Ragger wouldn't appreciate the alienation such a language barrier would cause.
Drawing a breath, the Demonai warrior tossed her wild mane of hair back and flashed a smile at the pair, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's good to see you back in the Spirits, Dancer, Catfire," she croaked in Common, feeling swamped by emotions. After all, the mountains held a lot of memories for her, both good and bad. Bloody bones, when was the last time we visited the mountain home just for pleasure? She imagined Dancer felt much the same.
"We'd best get a move on," Cat cut in, tucking her blade away for the time being. "There's no telling what sort of coves we might run into in the dark, and I don't much feel like bein' hushed or shoulder-tapped tonight." Bird bit back the urge to laugh at how easily Cat slid back into the thieves' cant she'd no doubt grown up speaking, shedding her court manners like a snake discarding an old skin.
"Right, we'll head straight for Marisa Pines Pass then," Dancer responded, blue eyes crinkling with amusement at Cat.
Cat, for her part, stood up taller and fished through her clothes, moving her body blades around so she had plenty of knives at the ready.
Bird gave a terse nod to her cousin and took the lead, fidgeting with the Demonai talisman that bounced against her chest at every movement.
As the sun crept closer to the horizon, where it would no doubt set over Westgate down in the Vale, she tugged a shadowcloak free from her bags and tossed it to Dancer, who caught it and passed it to Cat.
"Dancer can glamour himself up and I have Demonai garb on, so we can blend in, but I figured you might need that," Bird explained briefly to Cat. After a short break wherein they stopped to eat and refill their waterskins at a small creek just off the Dyrnnewater, the former streetlord of Ragmarket had pulled the cloak around herself, letting the magicked fabric settle against her and make her less obvious to onlookers.
But as much as Cat might have been itching for a brawl (to Bird's knowledge, anyway), they didn't encounter anyone particularly alarming on the way to Marisa Pines, just traders and other average people heading to and from the Spirits. At least they didn't cross paths with any of the usual hollow-eyed refugees from Arden or Tamron--Bird always felt especially useless when her eyes would land on a struggling family, or worse, an orphaned child, and would be reminded that all the effort she put in to join up with the Demonai hadn't enabled her to help anyone who truly needed it.
Even seeing other people who made the mountains their home put her ill at ease, because her interests had never aligned perfectly with those of the clans. Bird scowled and pushed the thought aside. Damned flatland politics cluttering up my mind.
At least the beaten path to Marisa Pines was familiar: the towering lodgepole pines, half the namesake of the camp; the yipping and barking of dogs as they scrambled up to meet these newcomers; the wide-eyed children, who greeted them with eager, curious smiles.
It was Dancer who dismounted first, clearly wanting to find his mother and let her know the group had gotten to the camp safely. Bird suppressed a pang of sadness seeing how he took Catfire's hand and pulled her along, recalling a time when Nightwalker would have done the same for her. She distracted herself by getting ahold of Wicked and leading him into a stall, making sure he had everything he needed before she hurried after the others into the broad expanse of the Matriarch Lodge.
The matriarch in question was deep in conversation with her apprentice, Bright Hand, when the small group entered, but Willo halted her speech as she spotted Dancer, Cat and Bird. Her usual serene smile appeared on her face.
"Dancer, Catfire, Night Bird, how wonderful to see you three. Please, come share our fire and all that we have." The traditional clan greeting brought a small smile to Bird's face, surrounding her in familiarity, and a quick glance at Dancer showed a similar expression. They sauntered up to a cluster of sleeping benches by the hearth, and slid them into a small circle by the fire, while Willo, reading the hunger in their faces, doled out bowls of stew from the common pot.
Cat seemed almost shy in the presence of the matriarch, overly swift to help her with whatever small task she was doing, almost as if she mistook Willo for someone much weaker than she was. Bird remembered a time like that in her own life, before she had come to realize that Willo's serene, relaxed persona tended to hide her real strength. Still, the calm smile Willo sent her way seemed to put the former streetlord a bit more at ease, especially when the matriarch was reminded that Cat was Dancer's girlie (her words, not his) and Hunts Alone's old friend.
Although Willo had always claimed the city drained her magic, it was clear Cat's wild tales sated some curiosity of hers, as pretty soon the two were chattering away like starlings, while Bird and Dancer looked on with some embarassment.
"I've never seen her this...animated," Bird quipped, leading Dancer to snort with laughter.
"Really? Of course, I'm forgetting that you weren't there to see every argument she had with me about me being a wizard, or with Hunts Alone about his vocation, or with Elena Demonai about, well... everything.. Or when she absolutely tore Gavan Bayar to shreds during the council meeting on Gray Lady.."
"Alright, Dancer, I get it," Bird huffed with a roll of her eyes. "Point taken; Willo can be scarier than the Breaker when she wants to be." And we never do anything together anymore, she added silently.
The chattering died down from across the circle, and there was a stifled snicker.
Hearing Elena Demonai's name come up again put her on edge, but Bird pushed her braided hair back out of her face and tried to keep her expression neutral as Cat and Willo slowed their conversation.
"So," the matriarch began, and Bird resisted the urge to wince. Sweet Hanalea in chains, this will be hard to talk about. "What brings you back to the Spirits?"
Dancer spoke first, and Bird could've cried with relief at that. He tsked, beaded braids clattering together. "You know how the flatlands are..too crowded, too.."
"Busy?" Cat offered. Dancer wrinkled his nose.
"Not exactly. It can be just as busy up here on market days. But of course, Catfire's never even seen the clan markets."
The streetlord in question shrugged. "Yeah, so I don't really know what it's like. What about it, copp--"
Bird shot her a warning look, but she was smiling. "You haven't lived till you see the markets, Catfire. Especially the Falling Leaves Market, that's when we've got the best hard cider this side of the Indio--"
"Yeah, and I seem to recall you got sick all over yourself and Hunts Alone had to clean you up," Dancer teased, to which Bird stuck her tongue out.
"You need to stop worrying so much, Dancer Cennestre," she mocked.
Willo just sat patiently, waiting for them to stop bickering, though she was, truthfully, glad to see them all smiling again. The months leading up to Queen Raisa's coronation had taken a toll on seemingly everyone in the Fells, not least these three, having taken the initiative to protect the blooded heir.
It was Bird who drew most of her worry now--the Demonai warrior had nearly died defending the queen during a botched assassination attempt by Reid Nightwalker Demonai, the former patriarch of Demonai Camp, whom Bird had idolized ever since her renaming. Certainly she'd been traumatized to learn the truth about him, and after all the distance that had increased between her, Dancer, and Hunts Alone, the girl was no doubt feeling a bit bereft.
But she wouldn't call her on it, not until Night Bird brought this concern to the healer herself.
"Anyway, we just came to visit. Dancer thought.." Bird looked at the floor, fidgeting with the Demonai emblem that hung around her neck.
An unexpected hand came to rest on her wrist, halting her nervous movements and sliding down to hold her hand. Dancer? No, he was fidgety too, turning his amulet over in his hands. And Willo wasn't close enough, which could only mean...Cat. Bird felt her throat tighten and stubbornly blinked back any tears. It seemed totally out of character for the brash, battle-hungry Ragger to show this kind of emotion, and yet..
"Dancer thought it would be good for me to spend some time back in the mountains. I..I think he's right, I feel..safe here." Her cousin smiled encouragingly at her, and Bird felt her eyes tear up all over again.
"Of course, Bird. I'm happy to let you stay as long as you need; I could always use extra hands in the lodge after all."
"I'd like that, Willo. Thank you." The sincerity in her own voice startled Bird; she couldn't remember the last time she really spoke her mind. After all, Nightwalker never listened to her, unless she was bolstering his ego.
"Enough of this sappy scummer for me, I'm going to go look around," Cat huffed, but her face softened when she saw Dancer. "If that's okay," she amended, and Dancer took her hand. "I'll come with you; I can show you all the places where Han and I used to hang out."
Bird felt the facade drop when they left the lodge, as if a veil had been lifted. The men in the mountains, kidnapping Clan children. The flatlander mercenaries they'd had to kill at the foot of Fellsmarch Castle. And worst of all--
"Bird?"
The warrior jolted out of the memory, dropping her stew. Broth sloshed over her moccasins as she stooped to pick up the shards of clay, a small hiss of pain escaping her as they bit into the skin of her hands.
"Here, let me help." Willo glided over with a length of cloth, wiping up the spilled food and brushing the pieces of the bowl into a small pile. Bird gave a tight smile and moved backward to one of the sleeping benches, digging through her pack to find something to use for bandages.
"Bird," the matriarch repeated, almost chiding as she went looking for actual bandages. She tsked as Bird came up empty handed and strode over to the stubborn Demonai, grasping her wrist firmly and wrapping the bandages around her bleeding knuckles before she could pull away.
Silently, the girl turned her attention to her stained shoes and scrubbed at them, refusing to meet the woman's eyes.
It wasn't so much that killing the flatlanders had disturbed her at the time. It was more so that after Nightwalker, everything changed. How could she know that all these men were guilty of what the clans assumed? And even if they were, how could she know they weren't misguided? How much innocent blood stained her hands?
She'd been wrong before, when Reid Demonai took her in. He called me his bed partner, she reminded herself grimly. And then the bastard tried to get in bed with Briar Rose. And tried to kill her when she wouldn't marry him. It's like Hanalea's story a thousand years later and nothing's changed.
Unable to get the remainder of the stain out, Bird shoved her moccasins on, frustration making her movements jerky and sharp. "I'm going up to Old Woman Creek," she proclaimed with little fanfare. "I need..." She shook her head. I don't even know what I need anymore.
"Be safe," Willo responded, more of an afterthought than a warning. Something in the warrior's demeanor troubled her more than she had expected. The Demonai gave a cursory nod and, slinging her pack over her shoulder, ducked outside, leaving the plants and herbs strung from the ceiling swaying in her wake. Willo only shook her head in reply.