Time did pass ever so slowly. The life that Fand had hoped for if Zog remained home did not happen. Her foolish prayer haunted her. If she had considered for even one moment what the Council meant to Zog before she sought intervention, but she had not. All she thought about was herself. It seemed that selfish prayers were dangerous.

This morning she stood on the porch. The sky was overcast. During the night, winter’s first snow had fallen. Footprints, Zog's footprints, blemished the snow leading to the house. Sometime in the wee hours, he had come home. She went inside and peeked in his room. Yes he was there. His breathing was heavy and the room smelled of urine. He was sleeping off another drunk. Disgust and anger filled her. Why could he not get over this? Why had he crumbled like this? He was destroying himself. She closed the door and went to get her coat. She would be late for Worship on the Meeting Hill if she didn’t hurry. Pulling her hood over her head she banged the door closed. She hoped she woke Zog. She hoped he had another raging headache.

Her skirt marred the new snow as she angrily strode across it. She did not see the clear sky or the lovely snow covered landscape. Warmed by her wrath she did not even feel the cold. Deep hurt swirled within her. Zog had not gone to the Meeting Hill since the day he was rejected. It seemed he no longer had any faith at all. His faith had once been so strong. Or had it? Would a strong faith topple over at the first real disappointment?

On the Meeting Hill she took her seat on the women's side. In front of her she saw Zolla and Pyre’s little sisters, Perty and Efje. They were eight and six years old. With a very straight back, Zolla stared straight ahead. Since Pyre’s selection as apprentice, the older woman had not looked at Fand or spoken to her. The rejection hurt. It was another loss she had not counted on the night she refused Pyre’s proposal. The cold of the stone bench penetrated her coat. It took stone awhile to respond to body heat, if it responded at all. She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering. Perty turned and looked back at her. She raised her hand in a small wave. Touched by her kindness, Fand smiled and returned the wave. Quickly, Perty turned forward, lest her mother catch her.

The service began with Gregor Zwart playing the recorder. Before, Zog had abandoned his faith, he had played the Sacred Songs on his recorder for Worship. During the week he had spent hours perfecting the notes. Like his faith, he had also abandoned his music.Through out the service Fand found concentration difficult. Her mittened hands had begun to ache with the cold. Her shabby coat, a cast off of Uncle Wert’s, did not offer sufficient protection from the wind.

For the benediction, Elder Zwar chose one of Fand’s favorites. He recited the words in the Ancient Tongue. Zog had taught her the translation. In her head she translated as Elder Zwar recited it. The last phrase caught in Fand’s mind. "Oi eue Byemels ov rov Bavarov ooi Se eyw Yeyw Yoyous kakvos." She translated,"The Keeper's word is sufficient. Through His love we have glory.” The word for glory echoed in Fand’s head, kakvos. Zog had wanted glory, had expected glory and when he didn’t get it, he became what he currently was.

The men began to sing. Fand's throat ached to join them. She knew all the mysterious words, but she could not sing them. Women's voices were forbidden. She closed her eyes. Deep inside something stirred. A warm sense of overwhelming love invaded her troubled mind. For the first time in weeks she felt comforted. For the first time in her life, she recognized this sensation as divine. The Keeper had not forgotten her.

After service as she made her way down the aisle, Wendon, Pyre's brother, offered her a ride with his family. Fand said, "I don't think your mother will like it."

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Wendon told her, "This invitation is from Father, not Mother and you know she won't cross him."

It was true. Zolla would not cross Rehn, not because he was a tyrant, but because she respected him. Fand was grateful for the invitation. She was loosing feeling in her feet and hands. She said, “All right I will.” As she and Wendon made their way to the stables they passed by a group of young men they had grown up with. Words, hissing words, in half whispers spewed into Fand’s ears. Gudden, a tall, black headed young man said, "He was after Gert, he was. Zog would have none of it."

At the mention of Zog’s name, Fand’s heart froze.

Chubby Marte enthusiastically added, "Zog the Pure staggers up to the bar and says, 'She's my whore for the night.' Then the chap slugs him."

Gleefully, Gudden said, "A fight. What a fight! Zog. I never knew Zog had it in him. You should have seen the way he—" Gudden fell silent when he saw Fand. She felt her face flush. Hot embarrassment and shame coursed through her. This must not be true. It couldn't be.

Wendon grabbed her elbow and steered her to his family's wagon. Fand was so stunned by what she had heard, Zolla's rude silence didn't phase her. Wendo helped her into the back of the wagon but she was barely aware of his assistance. The only thing that reached her was the warmth of Pyre's little sisters, Perty and Efje. They snuggled close to her on either side. Their nearness soothed her. She hadn't been this close to anyone since Pyre last held her. She missed Pyre. She missed the safety of his arms.

Perty whispered in her ear. "I am learning to read like you. Pyre taught me my letters. Mother doesn't know. I'm quite good at it." Fand looked down into the child's smiling face.

She whispered back, "I am so proud of you. Keep at it.” She wanted to offer to help, but Zolla had broken all communication with her. An invitation from her would only cause Zolla to release her wrath on Perty for asking to spend time with her.

Too soon they reached the path to home. Fand did not want to get out of the wagon or the cocoon of the girls’ kindly company. If only Zolla would invite her for dinner but that was not going to happen. When the wagon stopped Perty and Efje each gave her a quick hug and then Rehn helped her down. For a brief moment his kind eyes held hers. They were so like Pyre’s. He told her, “Good day.” Zolla said not a word and didn’t give her so much as a side glance. With a silent nod of his head, Wendon gave her a smile. The girls waved to her until the wagon disappeared behind the trees.

Slowly Fand made her way up the path. At the house the door banged open. Heedless of where he was going, Zog ran right into her.

The impact of his body hurt. He looked down at her and said, "Oh." That was all.

Fand looked up into his face. Immediately she felt sick. His face was bruised and swollen. His eyes blood shot. A long gash extended from his temple to his jaw line. Her eyes traveled down to his fists. They too were bruised and cut. Their eyes met. Zog looked away. He grunted and stepped around her. Fand shouted after him, "What has happened to you?"

He did not answer. He broke into a run and headed across the white fields.

Fand raised her fists and shook them. All at once the anger faded and she was left with a heavy sadness. Zog had been her rock. And now, now…

The front door banged open behind her. Startled she turned around. Uncle Wert stood there scratching his belly. He complained, "I'm starvin' girl. Elder Zwar were long winded again."

Angrily, Fand asked, "Have you seen your son?"

He replied, "Aye, I have. It's good for young blood to boil over from time to time."

This was the stupidest thing Fand had ever heard. "Do you know why he got into a fight?"

Uncle Wert shook his head. "No, I don't and it's none of my business."

The words burned Fand's tongue as she said them, "He was fighting over a whore."

A strange expression came into Uncle Wert's eyes and then they narrowed. He said, "I won't have you speakin' so. You will never be able to get a proper husband using language like that."

Fand exploded, "What? Your son can be with a whore, fight over a whore but I am not even allowed to say the word, WHORE!"

Uncle Wert raised his hand to her. Fand jutted out her chin. "Go ahead hit me. We both know how much good that will do."

Uncle Wert didn't strike her, instead he chucked her under the chin and smiled. "You are a fiery one. Its your Geworden blood. Ah, but I pity the man who marries you."