The axe came down and got stuck. Kiara cursed once, then more as she was battling with the piece of wood. After a good deal of time and effort, the axe broke free. But there wasn't even a moment of triumph. The panting and pain in her arms and back were far too concerning.
She rested for a minute catching her breath. Her eyes drifted to the piles of firewood around the chopping block, then up at the sky. It was still early afternoon, though with all those thick grey clouds it felt more like evening. Either way, this was taking far too long.
Maybe the axe got dull, she thought and felt the blade, only to immediately wince. Blood started flowing from a tiny cut. Frowning even more, she stared at it. One second passed… two seconds… three… It kept flowing.
"Mmm, excuse me?"
A couple moments later, the blood ignited and disappeared as the wound closed.
"Thank you," Kiara muttered but not at all relieved.
Thunder came from a distance and she raised her axe. It went deeper this time. She struck a couple more times and the wood finally split in two.
A few minutes later, both halves were chopped as well.
Kiara wiped the sweat off her face, then struck the axe into the chopping block, only for it to fall on the ground. She sighed and put the axe on the block. Then, grunting and groaning, she arranged the firewood on the drying rack. By the end of all of this, her back was killing her. But she smiled seeing the stacks of wood.
Wind blew making her shiver. She wrapped her coat around herself tighter and turned up the collar. Though that hardly helped. The work left her drenched in sweat.
Hot tea and a steamy bath, Kiara decided. She rushed to the storage shed and picked an armful of wood, then brought it into her hut. It was a single room, not divided by any walls or curtains. Already small as it was, it felt outright tiny with all the furniture. The bed, the table, the various cabinets. And, of course, the hearth. A fireplace up to her chest, almost as wide as her arms spread.
Kiara made up the fire and moved her tin bath to the middle of the room, then ran to the well and back pulling along a bucket. Working up even more sweat. Her whole body ached and demanded rest. At one moment, she stared at the water heating in the fireplace. Still only lukewarm. But if she were to reach out and…
She pushed her hand down as it was rising. No. This was not necessary. She could get by with the old ways and she would.
However, the temptation remained and it kept being stirred up by the cold that had taken root in her body. The blazing fire just couldn't weed it out, no matter how close she got. And so her inner voice whispered, reminding her of her power, her nature. Of the flames no cold could survive. If only she let them burn.
With a shake of her head, Kiara looked away from the fire. Her gaze glazed over the pots and pans hanging around the hearth. Then it slipped to the ledge above where a kettle and a few jars stood.
Along with some wood figures.
Two swans recognized only by their necks. A blur that was meant to be an eagle. And a beautifully crafted owl. The voice of temptation fell silent as images flashed before her eyes, and a wailing came in its stead. But that was fine. For her, heartache was far easier to manage.
Finally, both the bath and the tea were ready. Kiara took off the sweaty clothes with great relief. She immediately shivered, even though the hut was well-heated. That accursed cold… She had to hold herself back getting in or she could've knocked the tub over rushing to warm up.
A long sigh escaped her lips. She leaned back and stretched out her legs. The water was scorching, yet her skin didn't turn red. At least, that side of her nature didn't change. If she wished, she could bathe in lava. Now that would certainly chase off the cold. But luckily, there was no need for such extremities.
Not yet, she thought somewhat bitterly.
She looked herself over, then felt her arms and legs. Just as firm and toned as they had been for centuries. And yet chopping wood had been taking more and more time.
While her body had been getting tired quicker and quicker…
Thunder stopped her from sinking deeper into thought. She glanced at the window and saw a downpour. Thankfully, she didn't have any more work outside today. Although, knowing the weather this time of the year, it would rain many more times over the coming weeks.
Kiara sighed and looked at the record player in the far corner. Music usually helped her lighten up. But this wasn't one of those fancy devices activated by voice. Though… she knew all the songs by heart, didn't she? She picked one at random and played it in her head. Then, with a happy smile, she hummed the melody and sipped her tea as the cold was melting away.
It took her body a good while to warm up. Reluctantly, she got out, before the water ran cold. Still humming, she dried off and put on fresh clothes, then sat in front of the mirror. The face in the reflection was youthful, with no hint to the old crone within. Except, perhaps, for the eyes. Their color that once resembled dawn. Now, however, it appeared to have lost its shine, turning to dusk.
She started brushing her hair and leaned closer. Was there any grey among all that orange and teal? Seemingly no, but it certainly wasn't as lush as it used to be.
With a sigh, Kiara checked on the hearth. The fire wasn't exactly dying and yet she still gave it some wood. The flame puffed up. Oh, if only it was that easy for her.
Outside, autumn celebrated its reign with rain and cold. A party she would rather avoid. But there was still a bath waiting to be emptied and she hadn't gotten so weak to leave things for another day. So, she scooped the water with the bucket and headed to the door.
But when it opened, something scurried inside. There was a small thud, then a patter of hooves. A big pouch lay at Kiara's feet. The intruder, however, ran behind the tub. She followed a trail of mud and water to the fireplace and found a small creature, all wet and shivering. It resembled a deer, though small as a fox, with green fur and long fluffy tail. Its branch-like horns almost touched the flame.
"Nemu?" Kiara muttered surprised and quickly moved her away. "It's too dangerous, girl. Stay here."
The kirin whined in protest, eyes big and sad, like she just had gone through something traumatic.
"Oh, it's just rain, princess. Give me a minute and I'll dry you right up."
Kiara grabbed a towel and let it soak the water in, then squeezed it over the bucket. Nemu kept looking miserable all throughout the process and even when she was all dry, wrapped in a warm cloth, like a baby. While the poor thing stayed in the rocking chair, Kiara cleaned the floor and only then picked up the pouch Nemu had brought. It was dry both inside and outside even though this wasn't some modern waterproof bag. Nor were there any runes. Just silk tied up with a string, and yet water simply slipped right off it.
"Seems like you got all of it instead," Kiara said and petted Nemu on the head. "To think Mother would send you out in this weather… What a monster," she added with a chuckle.
A lightning flashed in the window and thunder followed suit. Kiara smiled. Nature had a knack for dramatics.
Kiara opened the pouch and took out a smaller one. It was filled with tea leaves. She hummed happily pouring everything into an almost empty jar. A few more days and she'd have run out. Now that would've been a disaster.
The only other thing in the pouch was yarn. She studied one ball, then put it back in and left the pouch on the bed.
"Thank you for the supplies," Kiara said kneeling before Nemu. The kirin's eyes were closed. "Not going to hurry to your mistress? Well, I won't chase you out. I am not heartless."
This time there was no lightning. But the rain hammered on the roof harder.
Kiara sat down in the chair and put Nemu on her lap.
"So, since you are staying… how about a story?" she whispered.
There was a whine – slightly curious, it seemed.
"It's… not exactly pretty. Certainly not like that fairytale Clive came up with. But… I just want to ramble to someone. May I?"
Nemu wheezed quietly. Kiara smiled and scratched behind her ear.
"Last chance to run away… No? Well then, here is the tale… of the Great Wanderer…"
Once upon a time, a wanderer walked the earth. Born of fire, to serve the mother of all like a knight for a lady. Yet given no order, no purpose. "Listen to your heart. Do what it wishes, what feels right to you," was all the Wanderer got. And so, she set out to find her calling.
The time granted her was limitless. Fire roared within her, lashing at her enemies, healing her wounds. Even bringing her back from death. A blessed gift that guided her, that seeped into everything she did.
She was a dancer striking sparks out of people at festivities. A priestess keeping flames in their hearts. A songstress whose voice rekindled passions. A warrior burning down the wicked.
Once, awed by her powers, people even proclaimed her a goddess. Other times they would brand her a hell spawn. Though, deity or pariah, she had her fill of sorrow. Those she trusted would turn on her, making her run from a place she called home. But not before blood was spilled.
Often by her own hand.
The Wanderer learnt to hide her nature and never stay anywhere for long. However, keeping people at arm's length was beyond her. Strangers would find a way into her heart through sympathy, concern, kindness. Despite knowing full well the cruelty people were capable of, she could always see the good in them. There was this seemingly endless well of optimism and hope in her.
But if humanity excelled at anything, it was its ability to disappoint. What beauty and innocence people had they would quickly sully with their own hands. They never learnt from the mistakes of the past and always looked for new ways to tear each other apart.
Her heart bled for the lives lost in idiotic squabbles over land, food or pure ego. Yet she was powerless. Of course, she cut into any injustice she came across – but the real issue was in the minds of people, in their hearts. Their nature. When she talked about it, they called her a fool. When she fought for a change, she became a tyrant.
Little by little, everyone took from the well – and far too often her good will was splashed over the ground.
Her purpose felt further than ever, the place she belonged to – nowhere to be found. The rare talks with Mother didn't help. Why had she been born with all this power if not to help others? There had to be a way.
And at one point it looked like she found her answer.
This world was the Mother's domain. But there were pathways to other realms. Countless adventurers and fools dared to go there seeking fame and glory. Very few returned, bringing some bizarre wonders and even stranger stories. They spoke of giants with many arms and snakes with many heads. Of creatures that looked human, yet had animal ears and tails. Of men with lower body of a horse and winged women covered in feathers.
All tall tales, people believed.
Until these creatures came to their realm.
Some were beasts venturing into a new hunting ground. Others appeared more human, with cruelty and greed to match. They came to raid and pillage, mucking the world further with hatred and despair. In response, warriors rallied up to defend their homes, to protect the precious peace and innocence that still remained. But the victories were rare and costly. The invaders possessed might and powers beyond any ordinary person.
The only one who could rival them was the Wanderer and she didn't sit idle. This was her home too. Imperfect, yes, with its fair share of dark and ugly corners. But still home. And for bringing more pain and anguish to it, she put these creatures to torch and sword. No hesitation – and only a speck of regret. Though alien, they were living beings too. But they chose their path.
She flew around the realm throwing herself into any skirmish she could find. Descending from the sky, burning the invaders, then just as quickly flying off. The word quickly spread and a legend was born. Monster slayer, protector. Firebird. She paid little attention to the stories, focused on her task. The calling she believed to have found. The reason for her power, for her existence.
But, beasts and raiders aside, there were also other visitors. Simple travelers and explorers, led by pure curiosity. Ironically, they would end up causing the most mayhem, as their words brought bigger forces to this mundane realm. Through trial and error, they found a way to communicate with humans and their beliefs started seeping into the minds of people. The gods these creatures worshipped, the magic they wielded. Little by little, the knowledge grew and spread. Tempted by power, many built altars and shrines for these foreign deities. First in secret, then out in the open, daring and even proud. They offered sacrifices and performed ceremonies to reach the gods of other realms and learn the secrets of magic.
The gods were eager to answer, eager to come to this new land and snare new worshippers for mere crumbs of knowledge. But even that much was enough. People started using magic against monsters and invaders. Since then, the raids grew rarer and rarer. Perhaps, the creatures were afraid to anger the gods, now that people of this realm worshipped them too. Or it was all the gods' ploy to sink their claws into this new land.
One way or the other, magic took root on Earth. Weather and elements fell under people's will. Curses became more than mere words. New horrifying diseases plagued the lands.
Humans were staying true to their nature and there was no rest for the Wanderer. She kept on carrying out her new found duty patrolling the realm. But now she hunted not only invaders but her own people as well. As her faith in humanity was waning. Drying out.
And then the fools dared to do the unthinkable. In pursuit of immortality, they created monstrosities and raised the dead perverting life itself. That was when she snapped. Everything was put to torch – shrines to the conniving gods, books and scrolls of spells, the pitiful abominations.
As well as their creators.
She swept through the realm and, amidst chaos and mayhem, others took action. Those who hated magic, be it out of fear or envy, rallied people on a crusade, to cleanse their home of any and all sorcerers and witches. Making no distinction between those who cursed the innocent and healed the injured.
Everyone was put on the pyre.
Focused on her mission, the Wanderer was deaf to the rumors of these hunts. Perhaps, willingly at times. She knew she had to destroy the foothold of the gods in her home, to banish them. Only then life would be safe. This was her purpose, her oath.
And yet, the closer she was to the end, the sadder Mother would become.
But she couldn't allow herself to wonder why…
In the end, magic was all but eradicated from the lands. Most of the gods returned to their domains. The very few still lingered, their followers hidden to practice in secret. Even the paths to other realms either disappeared or got blocked off by an act of nature.
Only then did the Wanderer saw it… the ruins… the ash… the pyres and the charred remains…
The well dried to a puddle and her purpose was no more.
Kiara woke up shivering. The fire was fading, leaving the hut barely lit. She hurried to get the wood and almost slipped on the towel crumpled at her feet. Confused, she looked around and saw the door slightly open. The cold slipping in…
She slammed into the door shutting it.
"If you can open it, you should also close it," Kiara grumbled. "Damn princess…"
Once the fire was burning bright again, she walked up to the window. Outside was pitch black and quiet. No rain, no thunder. The nature had laid down to rest after its fit.
Kiara got to her bed. The yarn balls were scattered all over the blankets and the pouch was nowhere to be seen. She juggled one pondering. Lately, her hands had been getting cold so easily. And her neck. So, gloves, a scarf… maybe a hat, too… The way she was now, she could use all of these.
She settled back in the chair, with needles and yarn and started knitting to its steady creaks. Keep busy, stay sane. Such was her way of life.
For however long her flames could last.