(/\) 1: Attack

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Attack

Not for the first time, she found herself hating every aspect of this situation. Maybe her father more so because of his hand in placing her in it.

Who in the Gods' name ever thought this was a good idea? I am not a general. I am an herbalist.

Also thoughts she'd had more than once.

Save for the tiny little town down the slope, all was dark, so much so that if Katonah hadn't had her hand pressed against the rough bark of a nearby tree, she wouldn't have been able to tell which way was up and which was down. It had rained earlier in the day, and cold fingers of wind had pulled in a thick bank of clouds; they blocked out any stars and reduced the crescent moon to a faint smudge up above.

"Bad omen," Iseabail commented.

Katonah jumped — her large hooped earrings jangled eerily in the silence. "Gods, Old Mother, you scared me," she hissed. "I thought I told you to stay behind and tend to the wounded."

"Don't order me about, young lady. I'll do what I like. You are still my apprentice, you know." A glitter of a smile sparkled down near the ground. Iseabail was a lump of an old woman, her painfully wrinkled and crooked body covered by a massive bear-fur cloak. Outsiders often wondered how such a big attitude could be contained in such a wrinkled old figure, but that was part of the wise woman's charm. She was nearly a hundred years old, but still spoke and acted like someone half that age.

But Katonah couldn't enjoy the Old Mother's spunk tonight. The old woman's war paint reminded her only too clearly of the present situation: across her leathered cheeks was drawn a sharp white point that fanned out into two curved spears across either cheekbone. The same war paint was smudged across Katonah's face: a winged mountain, the Earth Tribe's international symbol that their ancestors felt was reminiscent of the Earth Dragon herself.

It was also a declaration of war, seeing as they were wearing it so brazenly in enemy territory.

Katonah turned back to the slope, gazing down at the town uneasily — it was mostly dark, save for the torches and braziers seated at street corners. "Tonight," she murmured, replying to the old woman's comment, "I wish I was."

"Wish you were what, lass? My apprentice?"

"Yes. How much simpler that would be."

Iseabail sighed. "Life isn't about simple, girl. And in the scheme of things, you should be honored. You're the first woman to lead the Earth Tribe into battle for many moons."

"Huh!" Katonah grunted. "Honored. I'm terrified!"

"You would be unbalanced if you weren't."

Katonah glared down at the holy woman. "You know exactly what I mean, Old Mother, and that isn't it. I'm training to be a holy woman. I have no military experience whatsoever. Asking me to lead the men into battle is akin to asking me to escort them to the abyss."

Iseabail's wrinkled mouth fell into a frown, and she pinched Katonah's arm. "Hush, child," she hissed. "Do you want to frighten the men?"

"They should be frightened! What if I—"

"No buts! No ifs! You've been given a job, lass, so do it and don't complain about it. You may not be trained in these matters, but no one can fault you if you do your best and go into battle with valor." Iseabail rearranged her bear-cloak more tightly around her — it wasn't that cold, but the bones of a woman nearly a century old were sensitive.

"Besides," she said, some of her cheer returning, "you may be riding at the forefront and shouting the orders, but we all know that you are General in name only. Ailig is taking care of most things, in terms of actual military authority."

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