The rising sun woke Ferene. A large window let a stream of light in, no small amount of it hitting her in the face. She considered turning over and ignoring it, but remembered that she was in a strange new place. Pushing herself to her feet, she strapped her short sword to her belt and pulled on her boots, then slung her cloak over her shoulders. After moving her armor and her larger sword to a spot near the door, she stepped outside.

In the reddish light of the rising sun, Ferene got a better look at the village. A collection of some thirty or more log houses, not much different than the one she had spent the night in. A few of the residents were already awake, and gave her odd looks. One thing that stood out is that all of them were armed in some way - visible clubs, knives, or axes hanging from belts, a few with bows and quivers on their backs, even one carrying a half-length pitchfork. Very unlike the farmers Ferene had seen in the past. She frowned, feeling a sense of unease.

Completing a circle around the town, Ferene found herself back at Hallac and Yarrow’s cabin, where the woman was outside, apparently waiting for her.

“Come on inside if you want breakfast.” She said, and limped back inside without waiting for a response. Ferene followed.

Elsham was setting wooden plates on the table, which was no longer pushed to the side, with the cot moved to the side to make space. On the other end of the room, Hallac stood at a wooden counter, obscuring whatever he was making, but Ferene could smell hot bread.

Yarrow sat at the table, gesturing for Ferene to do the same as Elsham finished setting four places with a bowl, plate, and cup before walking over to Hallac. The two men walked over to the table, carrying a plate of bread and a large serving pot, both with steam rising from them.

Breakfast was bread and boiled oats, which Ferene was thankful for. Though plain, the bread was airy and soft, a nice change from the hard, dense travel squares that Grathen gave her.

Ferene finished her meal and stacked her dishes before standing up and grabbing her armor from where it had been piled next to her folded cot. Slowly, she started putting it on.

“Going to run off already?” Yarrow asked.

“I told ya she wasn’t staying here.” Hallac interjected.

“She could at least help out a bit, in exchange for food and lodgings.”

Ferene fumbled at her pockets, finding the coin that Varrot had given her. She stood up and placed it on the table, drawing the eyes of all three of them. “I want to buy supplies.”

“Issat gold?” Elsham asked, reaching out to touch it. Yarrow immediately grabbed his hand.

“You won’t find enough coin in our whole village to split that.” She said,

Hallac tapped the table twice. “What kind of supplies do ya want?”

“Dried fruit. Tired of travel bread.”

Hallac laughed. “Don’t think I can getcha any dried fruit, but Shalla should have jam. She can probably spare a jar or two.”

“First we feed her and now you want others to give up what they have?” Yarrow protested.

“We have ta look out for people when we can.”

Yarrow frowned, but didn’t respond further. Elsham looked from the coin to Ferene, then back at the coin.

“Keep yer money, lass.” Hallac said. Ferene pocked the coin again. “I’ll take ya to Shalla, we can talk to her about what she has, then ya can be on ye way.”

“Plenty of work to do around here, wouldn’t even take that long.”

“Tell me.” Ferene responded. Her urgency was only in her mind - she wanted to get to Ettsgras, to Velan, Taradira, and Tullund, but she didn’t need to rush. She had pushed herself before, a short delay wouldn’t make much of a difference, and these people were providing her with food and supplies.

Yarrow immediately looked up, her shock clear on her face. She immediately hid it, considering for a moment. “Take Elsham here to the fields. He’ll show you the way.”

The young man glanced at the woman, then nodded. As Ferene took off the armor pieces she had managed to put on, he finished his meal and took both his and her dishes away. When he joined her near the door, he eyed the sword on her waist a moment before pushing open the door and walking outside.

Unlike the rest of the people in the village Ferene had seen, Elsham was not armed in any visible way. He led her away from the log structures, stopping at a flimsy-looking shed where he grabbed two shovels and handed one to her. Looking at the tool, Ferene saw that the flat of the shovel was more of a wide mesh, and with several prongs on the front.

Their final destination was a rough patch of ground beyond some more usual fields. “We gotta dig the rocks out.” He said, pointing. Ferene didn’t see anything but dirt in the direction he indicated, but she kicked at the ground, finding the dirt moderately loose.

“Where are they?”

“Dunno.” He responded. “Gotta find them.” The youth pushed the bent head of the shovel into the ground, and started dragging it along. Eventually he stopped, pushing it further into the ground, tilted it, then pulled up. A fist-sized rock rested in the bend. Elsham launched it away, using the length of the shovel to propel the stone towards the treeline.

Ferene moved beside him and started copying his motions. It didn’t take long before her shovel caught on a rock, and she pulled it out and flung it away, gently sending it around the same distance that Elsham had tossed his stone.

The two worked in silence, and after Ferene had removed several more rocks, Elsham finally spoke up.

“If ya really tried, how far do ya reckon ya could chuck one?”

Ferene shrugged in response, but the next time she pulled a rock she paused, turning to find Elsham looking at her expectantly. Turning towards where they had been throwing them, she swung her shovel with all her strength, launching the rock out of sight.

“Hope that don’t hit nobody.” Elsham said. “Yer really strong.” Giving him another shrug, Ferene returned to working the field.

Giving in to the young man’s request apparently dispelled his hesitation about her. “Whas with yer ears?”

“Father is Hatharen.”

“Dunno wha tha is. Some kinda fairy?”

Ferene frowned as she worked. “What’s a fairy?”

“Yarrow says the forest got fairies in it. They hide from people and have magic powers. If ya go out alone at night they’ll steal yer soul. That happen to yer ma?”

“Yeah.” Ferene said. She didn’t know how to explain what actually happened, not fast, not to someone like Elsham. Another Hatharen might understand. Velan might understand.

“So can ya hear more? Stuff far away? Like dogs can.”

“No.”

“Whas the point then? If they don do anythin.”

Ferene’s thoughts immediately went to her experience with Rilya, and she blushed, then pushed the memory away, scrambling to come up with a reason. “Fairies won’t take my soul since they know I’m like them.” She told him. It was close enough. The Hatharen might have left her to die, or killed her themselves, if not for her appearance.

“Thas why ya were out alone!”

Apparently satisfied with her answer, Elsham returned to silence as they continued to work. When the sun reached its peak, he called for a stop. “Gotta go back for lunch. Yarrow will give me somethin else ta do after. Prolly let ya leave.”

“Is she not your mother?” Ferene asked, curiosity getting the best of her. She didn’t know why she cared.

“Naw.” He said as they walked back through the fields. “Da was Uncle’s older brother, Yarrow his younger sister. Ma and da died awhile back.”

“My mother also died when I was young.”

“Makes sense. She din have a soul after yer da took it.”

Ferene stayed silent, and Elsham did the same. They returned their tools to the shed by the edge of the village before walking back to Hallac’s cabin, where Yarrow waited outside.

“Get any work out of her?” The woman asked as Elsham trotted over to her.

“She’s real strong. Did more’n me by double, once I showed ‘er.”

“Eat some of the leftovers and then find Tilly.”

Elsham walked inside, leaving Ferene and Yarrow alone in front of the cabin. “Thanks. I’d take you to Shalla, but my leg doesn’t work well. Head that way, find the place with all the plants growin outside. That’s Shalla. Hallac should have told her to expect you.”

Ferene walked past her, going inside to collect her things. Her armor and sword were still there. She donned it as Elsham watched between bites of bread, his curious glances no longer hesitant, instead replaced by open staring.

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“Soldier?”

“Once.”

“Merc? Bounty unter? Uncle told me bout those.”

“Something like that.” Ferene replied, slinging her sword onto her back. “Bye.”

Shalla, a short, smiling woman, had given her two clay jars, sealed with wax. One had apple jam, and the other peach. Ferene accepted them, storing them in the small pack with her bread from Grathen. After thanking the woman, she walked south, out of the village and through the fields, taking a leisurely pace. The events of the first half of the day had pushed away some of her feelings of urgency.

Ferene was almost at the treeline when she heard a horn sound behind her. Whirling, she looked back towards the village. Something was happening there, but she couldn’t tell what it was. She started running, boots slamming into the ground as she sped across the fields.

When she could make out what was happening, Ferene came to a stop. The people were fighting, awkwardly, desperately swinging weapons at other similarly dressed and armed individuals. This was not the chaos of battle, or the slaughter of innocents, but something else entirely. It reminded her of the fights she had as a child, but on a far larger scale. None of them were trained or experienced, just swinging wildly at whoever was in front of them. Ferene couldn’t even tell the two sides apart.

Drawing her short sword from her waist, she charged in. A woman in front of her knocked a man to the ground and turned to Ferene, the axe in her hand stained red with blood. Ferene swung her sword early, slashing the air in front of the woman, causing her to flinch back. Taking the opportunity, Ferene stepped forward, grabbing the handle of the axe with her empty hand while slamming the pommel of her sword into the woman’s gut. Seeing the woman drop to her knees, letting go of her weapon to hold her stomach, Ferene tossed the axe to the side.

Not knowing who were the attackers and who were the defenders, or even why they were fighting, Ferene moved through the unorganized brawl, punching and disarming whoever turned to attack her. An arrow bounced off her spaulder, and she charged the bowman, slashing the string of his weapon before shoving him off his feet.

Someone yelled to run away, and Ferene found the fighting come to a stop, one of the two sides retreating, stopping to drag a few of the ones she had attacked to their feet. She did not follow, instead standing her ground, watching those that stayed behind as they tended to their own wounded.

Sheathing her sword, she reached down and pulled the archer to his feet. He looked at her, scared, and scampered away, into the village. Turning, she found another one of her targets - the woman who first attacked her - nearby, still clutching her lower abdomen. Ferene helped her to her feet, and the woman looked around, then awkwardly started stumbling in the direction of the group that ran away. One of the defenders came over, and Ferene was about to turn away before she saw the man raise his club and bring it down on the back of the woman’s skull.

Ferene froze at the sound it made, watching the woman fall, lifelessly, to the ground. The man who killed her turned, walking towards another of the people who were struggling to get up and flee.

“Don’t!” Ferene yelled, stepping forward, but she found herself surrounded by villagers holding their weapons, brandishing axes, clubs, and pitchforks at her. “Let them leave.” She said, standing her ground.

“They’ll come back and try again.” A woman said, stepping forward. “Come back and kill more of us.”

Ferene thought about reaching for her sword, but didn’t. These were the same people who let her spend the night and gave her food. Was it right to punish them for killing the people who attacked them? “Why did they attack?” She asked.

“They’re savages. Trying to steal from us is all they know.”

“Ferene, com’ere.” A voice called out. Hallac walked out of the village, unarmed, unbloodied.

“Hallac, you missed the fighting. Again. Working in the woods on the other side again?” A man spoke up.

“Always.” He said, pushing through the crowd to Ferene’s side. “This ere’s my guest, she helped out earlier today. I’ll tell’er what’s what.”

“You do that.” The man said. “We’ll clean up here.” He frowned at Ferene.

She wanted to protest, to tell them to stop. Her sword felt heavy on her back. She wanted to draw it, to prevent the slaughter.

By slaughtering these simple villagers.

Perhaps that was what the Knights of Resh had done, in the past. Why they became feared and hated, why they died out. Perhaps that was what Ferene might have done in the past.

Instead, she let Hallac lead her away. He and his family were the only ones in the village that hadn’t been armed.

Everyone else was waiting for this to happen.

“What’s going on here?” She asked as soon as they were away from the others. Hallac remained silent, leading her back to his home. When they closed the entrance behind them, the door to the bedroom opened, and Yarrow came out. She took one look at Ferene and sighed. “Did she do it?”

“No.” Hallac said, walking to the table and sitting down. “She disarmed some of em, some o ours too, an spoke up when the executions started. I got er out.”

“What’s going on?” Ferene asked again.

“Bad blood.” Yarrow said, joining her brother at the table. “In our grandparent’s time, some of the people in the village wanted to elect a mayor, expand the village, set up trade. Others didn’t want that, they wanted to keep the village small, not be bothered by others, not deal with taxes or having a king. This place is right on the border of Ettsgras. If it grows too big, the king will claim it.

“Those that wanted to expand, to grow, were driven out. Told to make their own village. So they found a spot and did that, not too far from here. Wrong direction, though. Further into the independent lands.

“There was one bad winter and one of the two villages attacked the other, stealing food. Our people claim it was them, their people claim it was us. Ever since then this has happened again and again. Back and forth. Those out there will tally up the dead and start planning a counterattack. When I was a babe, it was only every few years. Then it was every winter. Now it’s every few months. One side will die out soon.”

Ferene looked at Yarrow, seeing her much calmer, defeated, rather than tense and irritated. “You don’t fight.”

“Ain’t gonna contribute to that. Ain’t gonna let Elsham get pulled into it. M’brother and his wife died to that. Yarrow’s sweetheart too.”

“Tell her about Elly, Hallac.”

The man glared at his sister, then let out a sigh. “Elly was m’wife. ‘Er da wanted to end the fightin, by winnin. He wanted to burn down their village. She went with him, to keep him safe. Never came back. Used to have big families livin round ere, now jus a handful in each house. Won’t stop until the houses are empty.”

“Was hoping you’d be gone before anyone noticed your gear. Shalla’s like us, doesn’t want to fight. If anyone else started talking to you, they’d want a real soldier fighting on our side. To turn things around. When the fighting started not long after you left, I was worried you’d come back and pick a side.”

Ferene fell silent, thinking. From the explanation, there was no true fault here. Not with the living. She wasn’t going to wipe out two villages of untrained people armed with sharpened farming tools.

“What if this stopped?” She asked.

“How doya plan to do tha?” Hallac asked. Ferene saw Elsham peaking around the frame of the bedroom door.

“If you could talk to them, could you convince them to stop?”

Hallac sighed. “Maybe. Who knows. They’ll kill us ‘fore we can get close.”

“I won’t let them.” Ferene said.

“They might kill you.” He responded, frowning at her.

“If I fall, run.” Ferene’s failures had resulted in people dying. Right here, right now, she wanted to do something that would make less people die. Without killing anyone. “Do you want Elsham to grow up in fear of the next attack?”

“I’m fifteen.” He protested from the door.

“I’ll go, lass, but I need ta talk to people here first.”

“Do that.” Ferene said, standing up. Leaving, she went back to the field where the fight happened. There was blood in the dirt, but someone had carried away the bodies. Taking her sword off her back, she slammed it, point first, into the dirt. With her hands on the hilt, she stood in the field, waiting. A few of the villagers looked at her and scurried away.

Hallac arrived, another man with him. “This is Rolf. He’s coming with us.”

Ferene looked over the newcomer. Likely older than Hallac, slightly taller, almost equal in height to Ferene. He had a knife on his belt. “No weapons.” She said, pointing.

“You’ve got some.” He protested.

“I do the fighting, you do the talking.”

“Fine.” He said, tossing it away carelessly. Ferene pulled her sword out of the ground, tapped it against her boot to shake the dirt off, and stowed it on her back. The two watched her, then stepped past, leading the way.

The other village was barely half a day away. It was night when they arrived, and Hallac pulled out his lantern, lighting their approach. As they got near the torchlit village, seven people came forward, holding axes and pitchforks.

“We jus wan ta talk!” Hallac said, holding his hands up. In one he held the lantern, the other was empty. Rolf did the same.

“Who is this one, then?” One of them asked.

“We saw her earlier. She came in, hittin anyone who got close, takin their weapons away.” A woman said. “What side you on?”

“My own.” Ferene said. “If anyone tries to hurt anyone else, I’ll take care of them.”

There was a pause, the seven people from the other village grouping up and whispering to each other. “You here to make us talk by force?”

“I ain’t never raised a weapon against one o yers. I want it to end. Ya don’t want to talk, I’ll stay here till I die o hunger. As the soldier says, she won’t fight if ya if ya don’t try nothin.”

Ferene stayed silent, watching the two groups stare each other down.

“You got an idea how to end it?” A woman asked.

Hallac lowered his arms. “Know it ain’t as easy as just agreein to stop. We all look at each other an see someone we lost. My brother is one, but I know if we keep fightin the son he left behind will end up just as dead. Why don’t we start by actin civil and not discussin this out ere in the cold?”

Another round of glances, ending with several of the villagers looking at Ferene. “Wha bout her?”

“If you are talking I don’t need to be there. If it becomes something other than talking…” She raised her hand, grabbing the hilt of the sword on her back. They all visibly tensed.

“Let’s sit down and talk about it, then.”

Ferene followed them into the village, finding it just like the other one. Simple log cabins, a few torches lighting the spaces in between. They were obviously on the lookout for a counter attack. Ferene found several armed villagers watching her warily, even after they were informed of the situation. Hallac, Rolf, and two of the residents went into a cabin to discuss things, leaving the other five to go back to watching. Three of them stared at Ferene.

She stared back, and waited, listening to the sounds of the wind and the crackling torches. These were not trained killers - if there was violence, it would be loud. Her watchers grew bored and wandered off, leaving her with only one - a girl who looked to be around the same age as Elsham, holding what looked like a hammer with two spiked heads. She was trembling, having been left alone to watch a hulking, armored, well-armed outsider.

“You ever swing that at a person?” Ferene asked. The girl shook her head, adjusting her grip. “You shouldn’t have to. What’s it for?”

“Breakin ground.” The girl mumbled.

“Tell me about that.”

Her eyes went wide. “Dirt too hard for shovels. Break it up.”

Ferene nodded. “People in the other village had me pulling rocks out of a field to pay for the food I ate.”

“They killed my parents.”

“You killed that boy’s parents.”

“I never killed nobody.”

“Neither did he.” Ferene shot back. The girl looked away. “That’s why they are trying to talk and find a way to stop. Before you kill or get killed.”

“You ain’t from here. You don’t know.”

“Show me the hard dirt.” The girl looked at her in confusion. “Take me to some.”

“R-right here.” She said, tapping her foot. “Ain’t no good for planting.”

Ferene stood up, and the girl stepped back. As fast as she could, Ferene reached up, drew her sword from her back, and slammed it, point first, into the ground at her feet. The tip sunk in, and she pulled it back up. The girl stared at her in terror, knuckles white as she held her tool in front of her. “Swords aren’t good for farm work. That thing won’t be good for killing. Nobody here is good at fighting, so don’t do it. Leave it to people who are.” She sheathed her sword, and the girl nodded, looking at the tool in her hands.