Alana's Trail

Chapter 2

Just over the crest of a hill, they came upon a small settlement, likely refugees from one of the nearby provinces that had been overtaken by the blight. Given the state of their homes and admirable richness of the gardens visible from the road, Alana guessed they'd been there for months. How had she not known?

She already knew the answer to that: She'd been on the road. Her father's health had been in decline in recent months, despite the fact he really wasn't that old by regional standards. She and Aidan had discussed the situation at length the last time they were both home, debated bringing in a healer from the chapel. But by morning, she had been dispatched on a mission for her father, and she and Aidan didn't dare discuss the matter through their letters.

Making a mental note to review recent provincial surveys when she got home, Alana led the horse and wolfhound off the road and toward the settlement. She tethered Celandine at the first post she found, and continued on with Senna. Older residents bowed and moved quickly out of her way as she made her way between the houses. Wherever these people had come from, some of them at least knew something of Westvale.

"Lady Moorhawk," a small, round woman approached her. "What a delightful and unexpected surprise. I am Eden Bowman. Welcome!"

The problem with refugee settlements was that they were off the record, and so she settled on a neutral, "Thank you."

"We had no idea Thornwood knew we were here! This really is just so exciting." The woman started walking further into the settlement. Alana followed her. "I'd offer you food and drink, but you no doubt are aware we've just experienced an earthquake." She gestured toward a couple of wooden benches sitting just beyond the fire pit. "But I can offer you a place to sit for a bit."

"That would be lovely, but since I'm here, how are you?"

"We're still standing. All except the buildings we set up when we first arrived. But we're managing." A couple of structures near the center of the settlement were half-collapsed, and a number of the people looked shaken as they tried to help each other remove debris and strengthen buildings that had taken a beating.

"So I see," Alana watched as a small girl carried a pile of broken boards over to a growing pile. "How can I help?"

The woman laughed. "A Moorhawk, through and through. I think we have things under control for now, but we'll make dinner in a bit. Perhaps we could enlist your help with the children. You can tell them about the province."

"I can do even better," the ranger smiled, the woman's affirmation warming her heart in a way she hadn't expected. "I can tell them tales from the road. I travel often for my father."

"They would love that. Thank you, Lady Moorhawk." She headed off in the direction of the gardens.

Alana sat there and watched the people for a moment, and then pushed herself off her seat. "Stay," she quietly ordered the wolfhound, who sat tall, almost like he was guarding the bench Alana had been sitting on. She walked over to where a handful of people were sorting out the last of the debris from the fallen buildings. "Can I help?"

Most of the group didn't recognize her, and a man offered her a handful of broken dishes, "You can put those over on the garbage pile."

Another man grabbed his arm just as he was handing over the dishes, "That's Lady Moorhawk. You can't do that."

"She offered to help," the first man dumped the dishes into Alana's waiting arms. "It's just behind those buildings across the pit."

"I saw it when I came in," Alana assured him and headed off.

She wasn't more than a few steps away when she heard the first man whisper, "Besides, the locals say she was like us once." And Alana's heart broke. Even here among the refugees, her status was a compelling topic of conversation.