CHAPTER 76

Loneliness was a poison, Katarina decided as she opened her eyes. When there weren’t any people around, the mind turned inward in a strange cannibalism. Her dreams, once faintly remembered ephemeral things filled with nonsensical happenings quickly forgotten, had gained a sudden and stark vividness in which other people played starring roles since she was cast into the wilderness for her survival training.

Katarina was a tall, athletic girl in her late teens, with a severe, aristocratic beauty and sharply defined features and pale skin. In truth she looked like she’d be more at home in an elegant dress, loftily issuing edicts with her white hair in a towering coiffure and ordering a well appointed and trained retinue rather than slogging around the woods in a dirty man’s shirt and ill-fitting leather breeches, her hair in a dirty, wrist-thick braid that hung to her waist, but she had chosen and been chosen; now it was her duty and responsibility to prove she could survive in the wilderness on her own for a month.

The air was cold in her hut; the fire had gone out. She uncurled herself from the tight fetal ball she’d rolled into at some point during the night.

Her hut was small and low to the ground; she could only move around on all fours, and even then there wasn’t much room. While it was uncomfortably claustrophobic inside, it also didn’t take much to heat through the night.

She’d made the hut by trimming off large fir boughs and layering them over each other in a dome shape at the base of another fir tree that had huge low-hanging branches. Once the dome had been completed, she’d coated the outside of her dome with sticky river mud, filling in the gaps in the dense cover of needles. The shelter was windproof, mostly waterproof, and even kept out most of the bugs.

She eased herself out of her bedroll and poked at the coals; there were a few still glowing. She fed them tinder and twigs until a small fire bloomed and took the chill out of the air.

Her dream had been of her childhood. She’d been about ten, and she’d just been introduced to Frederika. She closed her eyes, and in her mind’s eye she could recall her dream perfectly:

The two girls sized each other up carefully without saying a word.

Their extreme similarity only heightened their differences. Frederika was pale and slender, willowy with strikingly violet eyes and waist-length silvery-white hair the color of cornsilk that reflected her albino heritage. She wore brilliant white silk that only furthered the sense of colorlessness. Standing at an equal height to her was the green-eyed Katarina, who was just as slim, though she was toned with muscle from constant exercise. Her own hair was solid white, the white of bone, of alabaster. Katarina’s skin was ruddy from the sun and nicked and scraped and scratched.

Devon watched the two of them curiously as they carefully scrutinized each other. They sized each other up quietly for some time, neither saying a word to the other, not breaking eye contact.

"You two could be sisters, you’re so alike." Devon marveled, breaking the silence. As if on cue, the two immediately turned to him and disagreed.

"She’s not my sister." they replied in unison and both looked at each other with surprise.

"Frederika." The albino girl greeted by way of introduction.

"Katarina." the other girl replied.

Now she was sixteen, and Frederika was hundreds of miles away, in the city of Darnell. Katarina guessed that at this point Frederika would be settling down to a morning meal. She frowned. That was unrealistic. Frederika was a sensitive girl; likely she would be worried about Katarina, would skip her meals and stay in their shared room, worried.

Would Rika pray for her? She snorted wryly. Likely Rika had a constant litany of prayers for Katarina running through her head at all times. Had her instructors told Frederika that she was away on a Witch Hunter outing? If not, Frederika would be beside herself with worry, perhaps even in tears at times.

She cupped her hands around her tiny fire for warmth in the early-morning chill, and began to tick things off on her fingers.

First; food. Food was a priority. She paused, and scratched that out. Prayers were the first priority; then food. Realistically food came first; She’d been praying to the Goddess since before she was even old enough to understand, and as far as she could guess, not one thing had changed as a result. Either the Goddess wasn’t listening or Katarina wasn’t putting as much faith into her prayers as she should have.

It had been a week since she’d dropped into this particular part of the forest, and Katarina still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of breeches. She’d done well for herself for shelter; that was certainly easy enough; she had a fire that was easy to maintain, and she had crafted some tools she figured she might need.

Hunting however, was difficult. The river near where she’d landed had yielded up a boon of cattails, which she’d used for her snares and she packed her bedding with the fluff from the dead stalks. Cattail roots, starchy and rich with nutrients, had become her staple because unfortunately, nothing had wandered into her snares.

Katarina took a couple of hours to carefully consider which hunting implements she should try crafting as she slathered more river mud over the interwoven pine boughs of her shelter, reinforcing the structure. Her pack didn’t hold much at all: a single canteen of water, a bedroll, and a hatchet.

She was a fair hand with a bow, however she didn’t have any particular skill in making them. She was also lacking in glue and other materials, so she ruled that out. She could make a spear, she reasoned. That was certainly easy enough to do. She nodded to herself. A spear would do fine, though she hadn’t been able to scout any game.

There was a stand of slender saplings down near the river’s edge; there was a game trail there that convinced her to turn many of the saplings into snare traps. She could take one of the unused saplings and turn it into a spear with no problems.

"But first, my devotions." Katarina muttered, and settled down in front of the fire. One of the disciplines of the Church was to meditate and clear the mind before beginning devotional prayers, so Katarina began sorting through her thoughts and half-formed ideas, the constant nagging hunger, the ache of loneliness.

Katarina took a breath, and her mind seemed to clear, and she began her devotion with a simple prayer for Rika; that the petite girl would rest easy, not skip too many meals, and that her worries might be assuaged in some way.

"And lastly, I know I’m not supposed to pray for myself, but if something could wander into my snares sometime soon I’d definitely appreciate it. Eating nuts and seeds and cattails is fine, but..." She trailed off, and then grinned. "Meat." She breathed, and nodded. "Amen."

She got up and picked up her hatchet; she’d need it to chop down the saplings for her spears. As she strolled across her little clearing, she wondered how her classmates were doing. Were they surviving? She’d lasted a week, they surely had done that much.

She’d explored the clearing where she’d landed; it wasn’t very large. There was a small river that she could swim across in a few minutes not far from her little camp in the old pines. There was a short cliff with a fifty foot drop straight to the water’s edge further down the river, afterwards the river seemed to meander through low-rolling hills. On either side of the clearing were sheer cliffs that plummeted into the valley meadow in which she’d landed. Sheer cliffs to either side, and a river between, creating a triangular area where she dwelled.

The area had apparently at some point in time been home to volcanoes; chunks of pumice and obsidian were in relative abundance. In fact, Katarina happened across a small boon; a plate-sized sheet of obsidian that she’d carefully wrapped in her bedroll and carried back to camp. If at any point she actually caught some meat or fish, she’d have something with which to fry her food on.

As she approached the river, she heard a successive series of crashes followed by some animal shrieking in panic. Katarina broke into a run.

A young deer struggled in several of her snares, one over part of its face, one had wrapped around a foreleg, the other had snared a rear leg and hoisted it into the air. The deer thrashed and bleated in terror, droppings scattering everywhere like black pearls.

"Thank the Goddess." Katarina breathed, eyebrows raised in shock, mind racing.

Within a moment she’d realized she’d have a whole nest of problems. She’d never field-dressed an animal, though she’d witnessed her instructor do it. If she butchered the animal here, she’d lose it for future snares; other deer would avoid the place for the smell of blood. If she took it back to camp and butchered it there, other predators- wolves and bears and the like- would come sniffing around for meat. She let out a sigh.

"I wanted you, but now that i have you..." She remarked to the deer, whose thrashings were gradually becoming weaker. She let out a sigh, clenched her jaw, and swung as hard as she could, twisting the hatchet at the last moment so that the side of it crashed into the deer’s skull. The deer went limp immediately, and Katarina nodded.

Quickly, she cut down a couple of saplings, and disentangled the deer from her snares, not wishing to waste downtime braiding cattail reeds into rope again. She picked up the deer and staggered under its weight.

"Come on, Katarina." She panted. "Everyone knows how strong you are." She chided herself. "It’s only about a year old."

She staggered with the deer’s body for a short while, groaning and cursing her weakness, before she remembered her saplings she was going to turn into spears. She shouldered off the young deer and shook her head.

"You’re an idiot, Katarina." She snarled. "Make a fucking travois!" She cursed, and returned to the river’s edge to collect her saplings, and after a few minutes of agonized frustration, she took the cattail ropes from her snares as well.

When she returned to the deer, it was sitting up. Upon her approach it struggled to its feet, but Katarina struck it with her axe again, felling it a second time.

Katarina managed to tie it to the saplings and dragged it much further down the river, where she hoisted it up into the branches of a tree, head-first.

She reached into her shirt and pulled out her knife, and hesitated. It seemed wrong to take the deer’s life without some benediction. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and prayed to the Goddess for her blessing.

She raised the knife, and prepared to make the cut, when a voice called out to her.

"You might want to step clear; it’s gonna go a gusher." They warned.

Katarina whirled, seeking the voice, hatchet and knife raised defensively.

A dirty boy eyed her carefully. He was wrapped in leathers and dirt was grimed into every surface. He gestured at the deer.

"You cut its throat and it’s gonna go a gusher." he repeated calmly. He set his spear down carefully, and tucked his hands behind his head nonchalantly.

"Who are you?" Katarina demanded.

"Ancha." He replied simply. "I live round here with my family."

"How came you to speak Anglish?" Katarina asked, and he laughed. "My mum taught me." he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You gonna do it, lady?" he asked unselfconsciously. Katarina nodded, and he nodded back. She approached the deer again, and he piped up again.

"You gonna gut it?" He asked, and she nodded.

"All right. You know how?" He asked, and she nodded again.

"Should probably take off your ..." he gestured to the sleeves of his own outfit. "Blood goes everywhere." He warned helpfully.

Katarina shrugged out of her coat, and after a long moment of debate, out of her shirt as well.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

She picked a spot just below the breastbone, and plunged the knife in and dragged it down swiftly.

Like he warned, blood and viscera splashed out vigorously.

As it drained out, Katarina armed sweat from her brow. "Worst parts’ over." She muttered, and Ancha laughed. "No it taint." He argued with a grin. "Now you’s gotta haul all the guts and waters outta there." He eyed her strangely, peeking out through his touseled mane of black hair.

"You done this before, lady?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"I kin help." he offered, and She shook her head.

"I don’t know you, Ancha." She replied, and he shrugged. Suit ya’self." he replied dismissively.

She let out a breath, and dug into the cavity.

"This is a test." she explained. "I have to do it myself."

He shrugged noncommittally.

"You goan use the guts?" he asked, and she let out a slow breath. "I don’t know how." She replied after a while, and he laughed at that.

"Iff’n you just want the meat that’s fine." he advised. "If you want the hide, you’ll need the brains." he encouraged, and she nodded. That’s how some leather was made, she’d been taught.

"If you want more, you can use some of the guts to make water bags and the like." he advised.

Katarina shrugged uneasily. "I’m near a river." She replied, and he laughed. "Ayup." he replied. "Should I dump the guts in the river for you?" he asked, and she nodded.

He helped advise her on how to skin and butcher the beast, telling her that it was the responsibility of the children in his family to do such things.

A few pointed questions from her side and she learned his ‘family’ was actually a collection of some double dozen families of people that had left the cities and farms of the Anglish empire and had taken to living in the woods. He didn’t know the why of it; they’d decided that before he was born.

Suspecting heresy, she probed further and learned that they worshipped the Golden Lady, which was a relief for her. While she was just an unranked Witch Hunter neophyte, she was still technically a member of the Church of the Golden Lady, and was expected to respond accordingly to such threats. The thought of having to kill a child sat in her stomach like a queasy lode.

He eyed the sky. "I needin’ to get back to me mum." he advised, and after a long minute of consideration, invited her along. She eyed the sky herself, and shook her head. "Tomorrow, maybe." She replied and gestured towards her camp. "I live yonder." She offered, and he nodded.

"Can i have some of yon meat?" He asked, and she nodded. They divided up the deer between them, and parted company.

That night, Katarina dined on an enormous deer steak and spent the evening scraping the deer’s hide and repeatedly rubbing the brains of the animal into the hide, curing it into leather. What she could use it for, she wasn’t certain at the moment, but she was expected to survive in the wilderness for a month, by herself, with only the wits and resources she had at hand, so she had stretched the deer’s hide over a hastily assembled frame of aspen saplings and more of her depleting supply of cattail-rope, and scraped the hide, then ground in the mixture of brains into the hide with a wide, flat stone that seemed suited for the task. She scraped and ground, over and over and over until her back ached with the effort and her arms seemed leaden bars.

The next morning’s breakfast was a hearty repast, and Katarina spent the time again considering hunting implements. She had a spear, and now she had a wealth of bone for needles and fishhooks. With leather she could craft herself a sling, though she doubted she could do anything useful with it. She considered a spear-thrower, a tool once demonstrated to her by a wiry, grim-faced and grizzled survivalist with a missing eye. A spear thrower was just that, a long wooden spline of wood with a curved backstop that used the power of a full-armed swing and leverage to launch a three-foot dart of wood with lethal force. She marked that in her mind as a possibility for later, but for now...

She stood up. Follow the river north, and see about these worshippers of the golden lady the little boy had mentioned to her.

She had her hatchet and her knife, she had a spear, and was fortified with meat.

She found their camp only a few miles from her valley. There were perhaps three hundred assorted men, women and children, obviously families. Some men had the watchful gazes that reminded her of soldiers, but they dressed no differently than the others, though they fingered swords and strung bows.

A young woman came to greet her.

"Welcome, stranger." She greeted simply. "I am Aleima." she paused. "Do you bring violence to our camp?" She asked, and Katarina shook her head. "No." She paused, and then added, "I’m Katarina."

The woman gave her a long, considering look. "You look like..." She paused. "Out of place."

Katarina gave her a puzzled frown. "I don’t follow."

"Are you perhaps from Nauders?" Aleima asked curiously. "You certainly have the hair for it."

Katarina shook her head. This was familiar territory. "I’m from Darnell." She replied. Aliema nodded, a doubtful expression on her face. "You are a strange one."

Katarina was going to ask what she meant by that, but the woman simply overrode whatever she was going to say by spreading her arms open at the waist, and giving a slight bow. "Welcome to our camp."

Katarina nodded at that. "I appreciate the welcome." For some reason the woman’s face flickered at that, but she gestured to Katarina in a come-along way, and led her deeper into the camp.

"What are you doing out in these woods, Katarina?" She asked curiously.

"I was about to ask the same of you." She replied. Aleima paused, turning back to face her. She clasped her hands at her waist and eyed the taller woman pensively. "We’re here because we choose to be." She replied evasively. "Put another way, we’re all... lost, and trying to find our way."

Katarina gave her a puzzled look. "Lost? How can so many people-" She began, but cut herself off, trying to figure out what the woman was saying. She looked around the camp. Were it not for the leather and hide tents and huts, she might have been standing in a small town. People moved here and there, but purposefully. She could see a pair of men haggling over a pair of what looked to be pheasants. She could hear the ring of metal on metal, the sound of a smithy.

"You don’t..." She paused. "You don’t seem that lost, to me." She began cautiously.

"Indeed." Aleima replied with a chuckle. "Let’s set that aside, and go see the Mother."

Katarina opened her mouth, and decided it’d be more prudent to keep her mouth shut. "All right."

She was led through the small village of leather-and -hide buildings until she arrived as a somewhat larger tent. Outside was a wooden pole with a small wooden plaque affixed to it. Aleima moved with the surety of long practice and picked up a short wooden peg, roughly the size of a pestle, and rapped it against the wooden plaque.

"Come in." An older woman’s voice called, and Aleima turned to Katarina. "This is Mother Karolina’s place. She should be able to answer your questions." She paused. "For safety’s sake, can I ask that you leave your spear and hatchet here with me before you see her?"

Katarina eyed the other woman carefully. Aleima seemed to be a little older than herself, perhaps in her twenties.

"It’s not much of a spear." Katarina replied with a wry twist to her mouth, but passed it over. The hatchet was harder for her to give up; it wasn’t a weapon to her, for her it was a means of survival. It meant a chance at food and shelter. It was too useful as a tool for her to consider a weapon. Her hand lingered on the hatchet, but she tugged it free and handed it over.

"I-" she paused. "Please don’t lose that. I ..." She trailed off. "I need it."

"As a weapon?" Aleima replied, her tone making it less a question. Katarina shook her head. "As a tool. It’s too useful to waste as a weapon." She replied honestly. Aleima smiled. "I like that answer. ‘It’s too useful to waste as a weapon’." She repeated, and then handed it back to the younger woman. "I shall remember your words." She gestured to the tent flap, but Katarina stopped, and pulled her knife from her boot and handed it over to Aleima.

Aliema blinked in shock, apparently she hadn’t noticed it earlier, but accepted the blade with grace. "Thank you, Katarina."

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-Now this is interesting.

-Please let me work, Inquisitrix. You wanted me to ease her through this. Please stop butting in.

-....fine. Continue.

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Katarina stepped into the tent, where an older woman was working at some sort of loom, weaving rough fibers into a square.

The woman glanced at her, and focused her attention back to her work.

"So you’re a newcomer, then?" She asked. "Sit, sit." She urged. "Let me finish this row, here. Where are you from?" She asked. "Nauders?"

Katarina made a noise in her throat. "I’m from Darnell." She replied.

"Strange." Karolina remarked, and twitched her elbow. "Sit, sit." she urged. "I’ll pour tea for you in but a moment. I have to finish this row, first."

Katarina took her seat, a short wooden barrel. "And why strange?"

Karolina glanced again at the young Witch Hunter neophyte, just a quick glance, and then refocused her attention on the loom.

"You have the hair of a Nauders girl, you speak like an Anglish, but you have the accent of..." She paused briefly in thought. "Either Einsamkeit or Begeirde. So yes, strange." The woman replied. "There are no judgements here, girl. We’re all families here. From Tannit, Begierde, and Einsamkeit. Can you not be honest with me?"

Katarina blinked. It had been... she paused in thought. Kow long had it been since she’d considered her home to be anything but Darnell?

"I was born in Begierde, but taken to the Alstroemeria as a child." Karolina’s hands froze for a moment. "As for my hair, it’s coincidence that it resembles Nauders." she added.

"You were taken to the Grand Cathedral in Darnell?" She asked, a note of caution in her voice. Katarina nodded at that. "To train as a Witch Hunter."

The old woman’s eyebrows shot up. "You’re an Apprentice?" She asked. "Are you the Wolf’s?"

Katarina shook her head. Who or what was ‘the Wolf’?

The woman finished the row in her weave, and straightened, briefly putting her hands on her hips and leaning back so that her back popped. She let out a comfortable sigh of relief, and moved to the fire, where she retrieved a short staff, topped by a curling hoop that flowered into a lily.

"I am..." The old woman paused for a moment. "Prelate Superior Karolina Balthis, of the Church of the Golden Lady." She announced, and sat down by the fire and leaned her crozier against her shoulder. "I oversaw the bishopric of Tannit." She paused, and looked up at the young Witch Hunter neophyte. "If you’re not the Wolf’s Apprentice, what are you doing out here in the wilds?"

Katarina scratched the side of her nose. "I’m taking my survival test."

The woman’s eyes lit up at that. "Ah. I see." She lowered her head in thought. "I’ve heard of it through hearsay. A test of your ability to survive in the woods." Katarina nodded, and tapped her thumb against her hatchet. "That’s right."

"And are you?" The woman asked curiously.

"Am I what?" Katarina replied, puzzled.

"Surviving, of course." She replied with a small smile.

Katarina took a breath. "I have a shelter. I know how to hunt and forage for food. I know how to make most of my own tools. I know a little about herb medicine, and I’ve earned my symbol."

The Prelate raised her eyebrows at this. "You’ve earned your symbol? How’d you manage that?"

Katarina shrugged. "My roommate is training to be a priestess. I just... sort of picked it up."

The older woman laughed at that.

"If I recall correctly, you’re not to... it’s a solo test. You face it alone." Karolina asked, and Katarina nodded.

"Well, then it’s good that I didn’t give you any tea, then." The woman replied companionably enough. "That would break the rules, right?"

Katarina thought back, and worked it over in her mind. She nodded begrudgingly.

The Prelate’s eyes twinkled. "Can you trade?" Katarina once again went over the rules. She was expressly forbidden from working together with any of her classmates. It was a solo test; she could not accept help from anyone.

Katarina’s brows furrowed in thought. "There’s no rule expressly forbidding trade, though I don’t believe the rules took into account your community, here."

The older woman nodded at that. "As the current highest-ranking member of the Church of the Golden Lady, I will rule that trade between us is not forbidden, provided it falls within the boundaries of a fair and equitable trade between both parties." She paused, and grimaced. "I’ll probably have to write that out. If you survive, you’ll need proof that this was done under my authority." She stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry, and then extended her hand. Katarina clasped it, sealing the deal.

"So, Miss Katarina, what do you have to trade?"

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-I’d wondered where Karolina had disappeared off to-

-Excuse me.

-....You know, I’m not used to being spoken to in this fashion.

-You know, Confessions are usually private and confidential. This is highly irregular.

-Let’s both agree to try to avoid stepping on each other’s toes, then.

-Yes. Let’s.

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"The question has been asked, Katarina lon Pavlenko: Do you stand ready for what comes?"

-What was that?

-I didn’t, i just-

-Shit, she’s waking up-

No! She tried to shout, but her throat was clotted with some thick, cloying substance. She forced herself up, but her eyes didn’t seem to be working right. Everything was a blurry smear of colors that shifted and pulsed and lurched

-Fuck! Grab her-

Everything faded to black again.

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"Which is more important, Katarina?" She asked. "To serve the Goddess, or to serve the church? Here we have decided to serve the goddess. The church has many rules and laws, but can one easily discern whether they come from the lips of the Goddess, or from the lips of the church?"

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-That bitch, I swear I’ll-

-Inquisitrix! Please!

-Fuck!

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"Remember us in your prayers to the Golden Lady, Katarina." Aleima urged, and Katarina nodded.

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"The question has been asked, Katarina lon Pavlenko: Do you stand ready for what comes?"

-This again?

-Hush.

Wherever she was, it was cold, so cold. Somewhere, under her, beneath her, behind her, above her, just at at corner of her vision, just out of sight, the terror of the storm. Somewhere above her, in front of her, the light. It was a brilliant, warm, comforting light, the light and warmth of the sun. She reached-

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-Shit, we’re losing her. Get the mage in here.

-I told you, we shouldn’t- this is wrong, High Lady Inquisitor!

-Do it-!

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Searing pain suffused Katarina’s being.