A chilly blast and the sound of torrenting water jolted Genista awake at the river side.

Genista had fallen asleep just outside of the plains village. The horse had seemingly found its way back to its home town, and had thrown her against a burial mound by the river before it bolted away. Little herbs cushioned her rest, their delicate blue leaves sprinkling throughout her white hair as she turned in her restless sleep. She must’ve been thrown onto Fern’s grandmother’s burial mound, she thought.

Her ears still rang with the cacophony of rushing water. Her sleep was grim and shallow, and she still felt exhausted as the dawn sun rose over her. Her dreams had been empty and fleeting, but the last moment was flooded with a vision of a violent wave ripping through the forest and erupting into the plains village down the river bed.

A gentle voice and the warm southern wind welcomed her as she woke. “Genista. Welcome back,” someone said gently. Genista rubbed her eyes, and the blurry, pale figure next to her came into focus. Eira was sat at the foot of the burial mound, their cold hand placed softly on Genista’s leg. “I thought you’d gone home?” they asked.

The herbs crinkled as Genista sat up. She looked around. A large, fresh burial mound protruded from the ground a few meters to the north, guarded by tall oak trees. Fern was still sound asleep on top of it, pink herbs tangling into her red hair. Aeron had joined her in the night, and both slept soundly in each other’s arms above their dead matriarch.

Genista turned back to the mound she was on - the one she’d mistaken for Afon’s. It was fresh too, but a lot smaller. Genista had left a small indent in the dirt where she’d been sleeping, and white and blue herbs had started to grow there overnight. Genista’s eyes jumped as she looked back to Eira and behind them. Ako sat tensely on the riverbank. He was still, his arms clutching around his knees, his hands wrapped tight around a hammer. Ako’s blue eyes cut deep into Genista, painted with grief and tinged with a slight highlight of terror, determined to defend himself or his partner if she acted up.

Genista looked away from him. “I’m sorry for what we did to you all,” she whispered to Eira.

Eira sighed. “I appreciate your apology, Genista.” They withdrew their hand and placed it on the mound, running their fingers through the new herbs. “And thank you for growing these. I’m sure our son would appreciate it.”

Genista looked down at the mound. She’d recognised it was smaller than Afon’s earlier, but now she realised just how small it was - the size of a newborn child. She looked up to Ako in shock. This was the child she’d seen in his eyes when she’d imprisoned him. He was buried here.

Genista shuffled back from the mound out of respect. “What happened to him?” she asked Eira.

Tears welled up in Eira’s eyes. “He starved. We were all starving.” They sniffled. “I was thirsty, and hungry. I couldn’t make enough milk for him. He cried and cried and kept crying until he couldn’t anymore. I tried so hard for him but I just couldn’t do it-“

Ako approached and cradled Eira as they broke down. “It’s not your fault,” he said through a gentle kiss on their forehead. Eira wailed into his chest.

Their wails broke Genista. She looked across the river, towards the vast, rolling yellow plains. The southern wind blew a warm embrace over the four of them. Genista noticed that the village behind her didn’t make the usual sounds that she’d come to know in home tree. No children squealing as they played. No elders or warriors chanting. No clang of metal as blacksmiths made new weapons. The silence was deafening.

Eira calmed in Ako’s embrace. “No child deserves to die,” they whispered, snot sniffling in their nose. “They don’t deserve to die at all, let alone like Frost did. In pain, in hunger. So young.” Genista turned back to the two of them. Eira’s tears of sadness had now given way to a torrent of fury, sending a pang of guilt through Genista. “None of us deserve this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Genista cried.

Eira shook their head. “No. I don’t mean what your people did.” They pointed to the dead river. “We don’t deserve that.” They then gestured to the shrivelled berry bushes and the drying forest. “Or those. See, your people are suffering too Genista. We are all suffering. No wonder we’re all angry at each other.”

A sudden rush of frantic footsteps and loud yawns interrupted their serious conversation. “Oi!” Fern shouted as she ran over. She skidded to a halt right behind Genista. “What are you doing back so soon?” she panted.

“I was about to ask the same,” Ako scowled.

Genista looked at the two of them and stuttered. “I- the horse brought me back last night. I needed to return it, but it ran off into a village.”

Fern threw her axe down and sat between Genista and Eira, raising an eyebrow. “A village? Like another one that’s not ours?”

Genista nodded. “It’s north of the forest. I’ve never heard of it before.”

Eira’s eyes narrowed as they cast a glance back at the river. “Is the river dry there too?” Genista nodded again. “What else do you remember about it?”

A dull pain reverberated through Genista’s skull as she recalled the previous night. “It was empty. No - it was dead,” she corrected herself. Her stomach lurched. “The village was destroyed. Skulls were piled up in their well. No one was there.”

Eira grimaced. “Sounds dangerous,” Fern said with a flicker of awe in her voice. But her grin faded as she added, “You’ve got to be careful.”

Genista gave her a bewildered look. “Yeah, it wasn’t nice.” She looked back to Eira. “I think it’s been abandoned for decades. There are no signs of life. But…” Genista paused, reflecting on the weird metal posts she’d seen, the wheel in the river, and the faint light in the distant north east.

“But…?” Fern prompted.

Genista turned around and looked towards the north at the treeline. “But they were advanced? There was metal and glass everywhere. The buildings were big. The river had all kinds of broken… machines in it? And the clouds to the north east glowed.” Genista lowered her gaze towards Afon’s burial mound. Aeron had awoken too, and was now curiously investigating the newly vibrant tea tree that sat at the head of the mound.

Eira let out a low hmm. “Do you know how to get there?”

“What?” Genista asked.

Eira stood up. “The river is dying.” They pointed over the forest and towards the northern mountains. “It flows from the north. If we can find safe passage along the route, we could track the river and investigate its origin point to see what’s going on.” Eira’s heart filled with curiosity.

Ako grabbed Eira’s hand. “My love,” he whispered desperately. “Please don’t say you’re going.”

Eira turned back to him. Their curious eyes locked with his teary ones. Eira’s heart sank, heavy with burden and duty to their devastated village. Fern noticed that Eira struggled to get their next words out, which wasn’t like them.

“We can go,” Fern chimed in. Genista, Eira and Ako looked to Fern with surprise.

”Who’s we?” Aeron approached the group, stuffing a fresh harvest of purple herbs and teal tea leaves into his satchel for further research. He glanced at Genista. “You don’t mean you’re going with this one, do you?”

“Aeron…” Eira’s tone was soft, but stern. “Be gentle. She’s just a girl.”

Aeron huffed. He walked to the other side of Frost’s burial mound and sat next to Ako, placing his satchel on his lap.

Fern picked up her axe. “I mean I could go aloooone,” she said with a cheeky smile, spinning the axe in midair.

“No,” Genista interrupted. “No. You don’t know the way. And you won’t get safe passage through the forest.” She stood. “I’ll come with you. I can show you the way.” Fern beamed and wrapped Genista in a tight hug. Genista looked over Fern’s shoulder to Eira. “You’re coming too, right?”

“I-“ Ako’s hand clutched tighter to Eira’s. They scrunched their nose. “I can’t Genista. I’m sorry,” they said sadly. “My husband is here. My son is buried here. I can’t risk putting myself in danger. I’ve got to stay here to help my family and village rebuild.”

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Fern let go of Genista as Eira approached them. They ran their fingers through both Fern and Genista’s hair. “Your father won’t say anything, but he’ll be terrified if you go,” they whispered to Fern. “And you, you’re strong, but you put others before yourself. You will hurt yourself if you keep doing that. And you don’t need to do that for me or my village,” they said to Genista.

Fern let out a soft stomp. “Come on Eira. Let me have some fun for once,” she moaned in protest.

Genista looked down. “I promise I’ll look after her Eira. I owe her that much, for healing me.” She looked back up to Eira. “And I’ll look after myself too. I promise.”

Eira drew them both into a tight, long hug and inhaled deeply. “This world is not fair, especially to young girls.” They clutched them tighter. “But you’re both so strong. It’s very brave what you’re doing. I wish I could do the same. But I believe that you can figure out what’s going on and make things right.”

Fern pulled away first. Her beaming smile gave way to sadness as she looked from Eira to Aeron, whose expression was blank. “Will you be okay if I go?”

Aeron exhaled softly. He ran a hand through his red locks. “You don’t need my permission, Fern. If you think you can help the village, then you do what you think is right.” He stood up and approached his daughter, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I will be worried sick about you,” he whispered, “but this village needs food and water. You know that, and I’m proud that you want to help. You are much, much braver than me - you must’ve got it from your mother.” He placed a kiss on her head. “I love you so much, and your grandmother would be so proud of you too.” Aeron grunted as Fern returned his hug with the force of a vice grip.

As they continued to hug, Eira walked past Genista and beckoned her to the other side of the river. They both sat on the cracked riverbed beneath the shade of a crisped berry bush.

Eira placed their hand on Genista’s thigh. “While I can’t come with you, I will try to stay in touch and help you out.”

Genista looked up to them curiously. “How?”

Eira looked up to the dried bush, then down at the shadow it cast on the ground. “My father taught me this. The others would get scared if I did this around them.” They raised their hand to the sky, blocking out the sunlight and deliberately letting out certain rays onto the shadow below. “Do you recognise this?”

Genista’s jaw dropped. “You know shadowlanguage?”

Eira held their pale hand to the sun, staring at their veins as the light shone through their skin. “My father called it starspeak. He said his people - our people - are fluent in it. They live in a dark, northern land where the sunlight barely touches them.” They lowered their hand. “They use the starlight and their hands to communicate throughout their home over long distances. I was hoping you could do the same.”

“I can!” Genista exclaimed in excitement. She fluttered her hands through the sunlight, but all that did was turn them red, and she couldn’t make any legible shadows. “I mean, I can do it under the moon. Can we communicate that way?”

Eira sighed. “We can find a way to, I’m sure of it.” They looked at Genista, more seriously this time. “Do you have dreamsight too? It’s another way my people can communicate, sometimes.”

Genista’s brow furrowed. Her head suddenly felt heavy, her ears ringing with the sound of rushing water. But she shook her head anyway. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Hmm. Well, all I’ll say to you is, trust your instincts. Your mind can process a lot of thoughts while you’re in deep sleep. It could help guide your thinking and foresight.” Eira stood and helped Genista to her feet. “You can stay as long as you need to before you go.” Genista looked back at the others. Aeron and Ako were mostly laughing as Fern swung her axes around, but intermittently cast suspicious looks Genista’s way. Eira looked back at them too. “Or, as long as you want to…”

Fern let out grunts and huffs as the axes flipped around her. She spun one of them through the air as Eira and Genista approached them, catching it with a grunt. “Let’s start getting you ready to go,” Eira said. “Aeron, Ako, please go find Deryn and collect some tools and weapons for the girls. I’ll take them to the town square to ask for more supplies.” Aeron gave a dutiful nod and Ako rolled his eyes as they got up and made their way to Deryn’s stable.

Rubble and dust crunched under Eira’s boots as they escorted the girls through the street and onto the cobblestone. The town square was a shadow of its former self. Every building around was a burnt out husk - timber beams and metal hinges swinging from splintered walls.

But villagers had set up tarpaulins and makeshift stalls to barter what little they had left, as if nothing had changed. Their stall were made from the any rubble that was still structurally sound, and any wood that couldn’t be used to make stalls was now being burnt in ovens and campfires. The air was heavy with the smell of burning wood, but began to be tinged with a scent of freshly baked bread, preserved berry jam, and a new meaty smell that made Eira’s mouth water. “Let’s go girls,” they said with a clap of their hands.

The three of them made their way around the stalls to gather supplies. Eira saw Fern haggling with the baker, jokingly offering her axe for everything in the stall before snatching it back with a giggle. Eira themself made their way to the source of the delicious smelling meat. They were surprised to see it coming from Deryn, who was grilling something at the butcher’s stall. “I didn’t know you could cook, Deryn,” they teased.

Deryn pursed his lips. “He’s no use to me now. Better put him to good use while his meat is still fresh.” Eira’s heart sank as Deryn pulled up what appeared to be a leg from the horse he’d euthanised during the raid. As he sent a bloodied, rusty butcher’s knife through the thigh, Eira felt as if it had cut deep into their heart. Deryn wrapped up his last batch of preserved horse jerky and handed it to Eira. “Aeron said they’d need something to eat. I’m sorry, it’s all I can offer.”

Eira thanked him, collected the food, and went to find the girls. Genista had gathered a massive haul of food, with the villagers she’d helped during the burials offering her many jars of preserved berry jam. Fern approached the two of them with a pout, seemingly empty handed. But then she pulled open her jacket to reveal a bunch of stolen bread. Genista stayed put as Fern ran off with a laugh, with Eira chasing after her commanding that she return the loaves.

The gentle clop of hooves approached Genista from behind. Her heart filled with joy as Ako walked up to her with a horse, his face blank. But then he kept walking right past her, taking the horse with him. Genista felt a strong pang of sadness. She was trying to help him, to help his village. The other villagers understood her, but he didn’t want to put their history aside to help her. She let out a little stomp, ran around the corner and collapsed behind a shop. As she carefully placed her jars of food on the floor, she began to cry softly into her arms.

She felt a soft, warm gust on the top of her head. It must’ve been the northern wind, she thought. But usually it spoke to her, calling her its “vicious warrior” - and it certainly didn’t smell like hay.

Genista looked up. The horse that had brought her to back the village nuzzled into her face. She let out a little giggle, and hugged its face. She thought that the horse would’ve gone back to its owner by now, but maybe they’d succumbed to injuries during the raid. She looked into the horse’s big brown eyes, now filled with joy in the sunlight rather than the terror it felt in the darkness. “Do you want to come with me too?” she asked it.

Fern approached her giggling. In one hand she was pulling the reins of Ako’s horse, and in the other she was buttoning up her jacket. Eira followed quickly behind her, panting. “Give the bread back, Fern,” they commanded.

“I’ll trade in some herbs for it, don’t worry Eira.” Aeron came around the corner too, a few tools in hand. He approached Fern’s horse and tied the shovel he’d used to bury Afon to it. “This might be useful to dig things up in the river,” he said to Fern, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Genista recoiled in shame as Aeron turned to her. He held out a long, pockmarked hammer to her, handing her the handle. Genista took it from him slowly, with thanks. “Just don’t use it on me,” Aeron half-joked.

Genista replied with an awkward laugh. “I think we’re even,” she said, rubbing the back of her head.

Deryn ran around the corner to join them. Fern squealed as he picked her up, dropping the reins. Deryn’s muscles tensed as he hoisted the heavy girl onto her horse. “I just got this horse today. Treat her nicely, she’s very young.” Deryn handed the reins back to Fern. “You can name her too.”

Fern let out an “ooh”. She ran her short olive fingers through the horse’s thick, white mane. She leant down on her neck, listening to her heartbeat and breath and feeling the warmth radiate from her thick skin. Fern looked to Eira. “Can I please call her Frost?”

Eira’s face cracked with sadness, then they smiled. “Yes. Of course you can.” Eira approached Fern and the horse, cradling both in their arms. “I think that’s a beautiful name.”

Fern smiled, then looked to Genista. “What are you gonna call yours?”

Genista was surprised. She didn’t realise she’d be allowed to name the horse since it already had an owner. She scratched its neck, and it let out a gentle huff. Her mind raced to find a name with a meaningful origin. She thought of her father, of Brama, of Ifor - but none of their names felt right. Her mind filled with the northern wind brushing through the forest leaves, but felt that the horse deserved a name that reflected where it had come from. And in that moment she got it. “I’m going to call him Islwyn.”

“What does that mean?” Fern asked.

“Beneath the forest.” Genista stroked Islwyn’s muzzle. “So he always knows where he comes from.”

Deryn approached Genista and offered her a hand up. “That’s very kind of you, to give him a name that reminds him of home.” The horse puffed, and lowered his neck so that Genista could get on. Deryn latched a satchel onto Islwyn’s saddle and loaded it with Genista’s jam.

Fern, Aeron and Eira approached them. Fern let out a shiver of anticipation as she clutched Frost’s reins. “So what’s the plan Genista?” she asked.

Genista turned Islwyn to the forest. “The abandoned village lies beyond the northern edge, down a road called Hiraeth. But first I need to get you through the forest. And you will need permission.” Genista grimaced.

Eira stood between them, placing a hand on each horse’s neck. “Who will grant you permission?”

“My fath-“ Genista stopped herself. Then hesitated, her heart filling with dread. “Probably my brother…”

Fern beamed with optimism. “Great! I’m sure you two get along well. This should be easy.” She went to kick Frost to speed, but then pulled her to a stop, jumped off and ran to her father. Aeron and Fern pulled each other into a tight hug. “I promise I’ll be safe,” she reassured him.

Aeron ran his fingers through her hair. “I know. I don’t think anything in this world could stop you even if it tried. I love you so much.” He placed a kiss on her forehead, then whispered into her ear. “Go kick some forest people ass for me,” he joked.

Fern giggled then jumped back on the horse with Deryn’s help. Eira stood back from the horses. “Be careful you two. Look out for each other. You will need each other’s help, as you have already. But we believe in you.”

The horses whinnied as Eira gave them a smack on their behinds. Genista turned their small convoy towards a burnt out hole in the forest, leading Fern into what was once her home, but with her father dead and her flight in disgrace from his funeral, was now sure to be a foreign land.