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The light was beginning to drain away, opening the sky up for the stars to take their rightful place. Driysa could feel a sense of unease taint the chilled air. Wolves cried out in warning, along with the rustle of trees, as if something was bringing them to life.
It was under these same stars that chaos erupted.
The chipped bucket fell out of Driysa's hand and into the greying snow, hardly leaving an indent, as a scream tore through the air like a shard of glass. Driysa would have assumed after birthing a small army her mother would've been used to the pain by now, but it seemed as though she always got more theatrical each time a child would tear its way out of her. Still, she hurried her steps towards the hut that had once been able to contain all eleven of her siblings, now no more than blackened wooden sticks and a single fire in the middle to keep them all from feeling the cold within them.
Snow and dried leaves crackled underfoot, announcing her arrival to the welcome of a newborns' cries. Driysa couldn't stand children herself; the idea of having to look after a small person troubled her to no end. If a child could not look after themselves, they were not meant for such a harsh world. She could never understand why her mother wanted so many. Glancing over, she could see the babe wrapped in a cloak, most likely stolen from the body of a dead ranger from The Wall. She almost let out a breath of disbelief. Surely such a cloak could be used for something better.
Her mother looked up at her, waves of different emotions washing over her face one after the other. Her mother only looked that way when she had children, and then the feeling seemed to wear off after five or six moons and then she had another. Her mother held the child out for Driysa to welcome, but all she could do was stare. She had instructed her uncle and father on what to do with the thing, but when she turned towards them, it was clear they'd fallen under the babes' spell.
"Meet your little brother Svedir," Her mother gleamed, once again offering the boy.
"Why should I care," Driysa rebutted, looking over at her father and uncle, "You all know what we have to do,"
A tense silence enveloped the inside of the hut, none willing to meet Driysa's cold stare. It was her uncle who first warned the family of the true dangers of the living dead, the cool whisper that followed them wherever they laid siege. That the only way to stay alive was the stay silent, to never leave a trace. Everyone had agreed with his sentiments, that was until they had to act on it. Even her uncle couldn't act on what he had once sworn everyone to do. No one could do what had to be done, no one but Driysa.
Her mother brought the babe back to her breast as if trying to protect him from Driysa. But everyone knew it wasn't Driysa the babe had to be protected from. The North had changed in a way never seen before. It wasn't safe for anyone who wasn't in Mance Rayder's army. Most of her brothers had understood that and left. Driysa now understood she should have left with them.
