Life passed as normal after the Brynja left, and within a week I again began my nightly wanderings. My dreams eventually filled with normal thoughts like those of flying and of living a life without my oddities. I was at peace.
Spring became summer, summer became fall, when the Brynja came again I purposely hid in the forest and did not come out until darkness had fallen. And so life passed, in continuing normality and perpetual boredom.
But soon, my path through life would tumble off a cliff. For that winter, a plague struck the village in which I lived. My limited contact with others spared me, but my mother, both of my brothers and many of those in town were stricken and died. My father fell ill, but slowly recovered and my sister, Jara, the oldest child in the family, remained well. By spring, one in three houses stood empty, and not a single house was free from loss. I hid in the forest while the fevers raged, returning home only to offer what comfort I could as those around me died. I ate, slept and lived in the woods behind my home. I became entirely independent; I sought no companionship other than that which I could glean from the moon and trees. At the tender age of ten, I learned to use solitude as a cloak from the sorrows of the world.
That spring my father had recovered and Jara was quickly married to Vovra, a man more than twice as old as me, though only four years older than my sister. I believe the hope was that they would have children before my father died, for though he had recovered from the illness that had struck our town, his health steadily declined.
Vovra, according to the customs of our town, took Jara to live with him and his parents in their home. Jara seemed happy, but I had not been close to her for many years. I did not come to the wedding. There was no place for me there. What was left of my family was already forgetting me.
That summer, more than a year after my first encounter with both Silver and the women of the Brynja, things changed.
Vovra took my sister and left the town of his birth. My father succumbed to old age and passed away in the middle of a stormy night and the Brynja came to me the second time.
I was almost eleven when they came back. Fear of illness had kept them away until two weeks before midsummer. It was only coincidence that I ventured to the village on that day, by this time most people there had forgotten I existed, for I only visited when my wandering brought me near. Perhaps the nostalgia that plagues me now was visiting me then, for they found me in my father's house, sitting on the hearth stone with my knees hugged to my chest. Tears were running down my cheeks, but I remained lost in my thoughts, remembering what it had been like to live with other people. To be truly happy.
Sezjah was back, along with another woman, somewhat older than she was, with pale skin, deep green eyes, strong arms and long fingers.
I did not notice them until they stood before me, and then I only gazed at them. No spoken words had passed my lips in months; I had almost forgotten how to speak. And so they were greeted with silent stares and blinking.
Sezjah murmured to the other woman, "This is the one my brother marked, Rhian. He says I may have her, until she's older at least. Isn't she intriguing?"
Rhian shrugged and replied, " I don't see why you want her, her eyes are nothing extremely special and she doesn't look like she knows how to talk. Besides, she's filthy. Are you sure she's not dull-witted? " She peered into my face with a disdainful look upon her face.
Sezjah grinned at that. " She's been through a lot, and I hear she hasn't been living in the village so of course she's filthy. But...she's mine." With that the two women scooped me up and walked out of the hut with me in their arms. I did not resist but even if I had, I doubt it would have gotten me anywhere. The hands that held me were strong and kept me tight. I felt neither the will to struggle nor the interest to ask what was going to happen to me. I just sat in their arms, gazing blankly at the ground.
Rhian and Sezjah carried me to their sisters, exchanged pleasantries and dumped me onto a cart. I could have left, but I did not, for now curiosity had taken the place of nostalgia and I was interested in this turn my life was taking. I had no idea what to expect as the cart rumbled off and I caught my last glimpse of what had been my home.