VIOLET DAWN

Chapter 1

Several Years Later, The Outskirts of Inverness...

The winds swept angrily through the Scottish mountains. The darkness, interrupted by a capricious moon, grew thicker. All the creatures of the great Highlands were quiet, waiting for the storm to come. All was still, except for one lone violin.

The girl stood by a camp fire, her skirts pushing against her bare legs as her arm dipped up and down, dragging a bow over taught strings. Her music grew louder, challenging the angry weather, daring the waiting snow. Several gypsies sat on logs nearby, the flickering lights playing across their eyes, the energy thrumming through their veins.

Then the girl moved, her feet stepping to the rhythm, her body twisting to the haunting melody. The high notes sent shivers down the backs of the listeners; this was a song of passion and heartache.

A man stood, his violin joining the girl's in the frenzied game. He moved towards her, but she moved back. There was no place for anyone else in her grief stricken world and she told him so with the angry notes that tumbled off her instrument.

Then a tambourine sounded from the other side of the fire and the girl flung her hands over her head and began to twirl. Other gypsies stood their instruments and bodies ready to join the fray. The shadows danced swiftly across the frozen grounds, unconscious of the freshly falling snow.

The Seer watched the scene from a nearby tree, her mouth curling into a semblance of a smile. Dressed in a red and green cloak, her crystals dangling from her neck and wrists even now in the dead of the night, the Seer was a woman of infinite wisdom and mystery.

No one knew where she had come from, no one knew where she was going and it was impossible to tell her age. The Seer never spoke unless she wished to, never asked questions for she knew all the answers, and for the last thirteen years she had taken care of the girl for reasons known only to her.

"Violet!"

The girl came to a stop, her skirts falling into place as she tilted her face towards the origin of the sound. The gypsies around her continued their revelry, their souls too caught up in the dance to notice her stillness.

"Come here, child," the Seer called in the ancient tongue of Romany.

"Yes, Seer?" Violet held her violin loosely, steam radiating from her aching arms as she approached. She spoke the language of the gypsies as flawlessly as she danced the Romano Kheliben: the dance of freedom and existence.

"You are leaving us." The statement brooked no argument, so Violet did not argue. Her nose was picking up unfamiliar scents; scents that made her realize she did not have much time.

"Alone?" Violet asked trying to be brave, because she knew the Seer would want her to be. The older woman had told her many times that she could not allow her blindness to weaken her. She had to balance it out by being smarter and more courageous than others.

"Yes."

Violet's fingers tightened around the scratchy wool of her skirt as she took a deep breath. She could smell the bodies dancing behind her, the owl on the nearby tree, and the water from the stream up ahead. Then came those unknown smells once more...horses, wood, paint. It had to be a caravan no, two. They were coming up the road, kicking up dirt, pouring soil and grass and dead leaves into the frosty air.

"Are they Gypsies?"

"No, but they will take you where you wish to go. Now take another breath."

Violet tilted her head. The Seer had taught her to see without her eyes, she had said one day Violet would get around better than people with sight. And now it had become so; she did not fear the darkness anymore. Snowflakes caught on her eyelashes as she took a breath. Soil, leaves, trees, stream, horses, wood, paint, hay and what was that other smell? Something sweet. Perfume, from a woman. And powder, rouge, leather...old leather and metal. Lots of metal.