The TwiceBorn

The Death Of Days

“Because she deserved my tears if anyone on earth ever did."-Pat Conroy

Alora could hear her own breath, harsh and ragged, against the soft backdrop of the morning.  There was a nip to the breeze that feathered along her damp cheeks, a whisper of cooler weather to come, and something about that imminent arrival of change brought about a fresh bout of tears.

Peasants would be bringing in their final crops, wood would be laid by for fire, and fur and meat gathered for the snows ahead and she suddenly wanted to be selfish, to be mean and hateful and make Islinn be whatever it was she wanted her to be. But she no longer had the capacity for such force. 

“You can’t stay with me.” Alora whispered.

And that’s truly what it all came down to.  And she had finally spoken it out loud and put words to all the restless thoughts she’d had in her past, all the nights she’d lain awake and wondered how everything had turned out the way it had.  She’d never thought of herself as being lonely or wanting companionship of any kind but now that she’d experienced it she didn’t want to do without it.

 But to choose what she felt was best for someone else…instead of what she simply wanted to do…was new and not something she liked.  But whatever had come over her, picked her up and given her a good shake and Islinn a good scare was still there, humming merrily below the surface and this realization only deepened her sorrow.

Islinn was hers, whether she liked the slave connotations of it all or not, the fact remained the same.  Islinn belonged to her and she would see to her own.    It was something she hadn’t done before when it came to her clan but now…she would see to her own even though it would take her heart back to a place she’d never thought of  as being so desolate before.

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At first, Islinn wasn’t sure she had heard right.  She didn’t know what she had expected the other woman to say but that wasn’t it.  As the words sank home, Islinn forgot about the dull weighted throb of her nose and the blood taste in her mouth, forgot everything about what had just happened and came face to face with the thundering realization behind the words Alora had uttered.

 She would be free.  

 It was something she’d thought of incessantly when she’d been with Behrin, mostly late at night as she listened to him sleep and felt him still tacky on her thighs…she had listened to faraway dogs bark in the night and the grumble of shifting horses and think of what all she would do, and where she would go.

And now here it was, that moment, but strangely she didn’t feel that grim determination she’d always had before, the one that would allow her to simply walk away without looking back.

What will I do?

  She could perhaps make her way back home somehow but there was nothing for her there.  Her association with The Twiceborn was probably already making the rounds of the Inns and taverns and on the off chance she could find a position as a scullery wench, the odds were good Behrin’s men would show up to bring her to heel.

Of course…there was always Winnie.

A horrified giggle threatened to break free and only by supreme effort was Islinn able to hold back laughter.  If she started, she was afraid she might not be able to stop.

“And where am I supposed to go?”  She finally managed to ask.  Alora shook her head and waved a vague hand.

“I can drop you off anywhere Islinn, with more than enough coin for you to make your way.  Where ever you want to go.”