Manon's Child

Part 2

I wake with a start. I am in my tent, staring up at the dark canvas. It is still night outside, and I can just see the glow of the full moon through the thick canvas surrounding me.

I lie silently, tears of grief running down my face, like every night. Every night, I see this, over and over again. There's nothing I can do. I stand, making no sound, and dress silently. I won't disturb anyone. There's no one left to disturb.

Now the Thirteen are gone, there's nothing left.

Not for me.

I slip out of the tent into the dark night night. The cold air hits me like a wave. In the moonlight, I make my through the camp to the very edge, where the wyvern's are stabled. I was wrong, I realise, when I reach them. I still have something left - Abraxos.

I stroke his leathery snout, and he huffs into my hand. I trace the scars in it, thinking about my own. I rest my head on his soft side, and he looks at me with worry in his eyes. I laugh.

Mother hen.

He twists his neck around, resting his head on my shoulder. "What am I going to do, Abraxos?" I ask him, but of course he has no answer.

The moment passes, and I step back. With a start, I realise the sun has risen, the witches awake and packing away the camp. We've travelled a long way from Terrasen, but still have a while until we get to the Witch-Kingdom. We passed into the wastes about three days ago.

There's a cough, and I spin around to find a young witch watching us. "What?" I snap, and the witch recoils a bit. Coward.

"Bronwen wants to know when we're leaving," the witch mumbles. She bows a little at the end, nervousness filling her scent.

"We're leaving in ten minutes," I say, plucking the time out of midair. I turn, and the witch scurries off, message in head, glad to be away from the cunning scrutiny of her queen. Because I am her queen. I am the queen.

I stride back through the active camp to my tent, packing it up in a few minutes, along with all my stuff. Then, I saddle Abraxos and climb onto him, and braid my hair tightly behind me.

On top of my mount, I watch the rest of the camp packing up behind me. I say nothing, thinking. When they're all finally ready, I flick Abraxos rein and rise up into the sky, the mass of other witches rising up behind me like a wave.