I can’t believe I’ve managed two days outside of the Wúduwésten. When the group reached the edge of the forest, the troop hadn’t stopped and, without thinking, Elewýs had followed them. No one had questioned her presence, for which she was thankful, but it seemed too easy.

Milde’s gory splint had been replaced with wood from the forest. A large multi-coloured bone poked out from Milde’s pack, she’d kept it as a souvenir. Milde hummed a tune to the clop of Anggret’s hooves.

“You’ve perked up,” said Leth. “Any chance I could have my horse back?”

“Oh we can’t have that,” said Milde. “You’d be the same height as Elewýs. You’d do nothing but trouble her with questions.”

“I don’t mind,” said Elewýs. “It’s not like I have a great secret to hide.”

“You’re not going to be able to hide anything lovey,” said Milde.

Elewýs smiled, “Don’t be so sure. I have excellent camouflage.” She tapped her green, brown and blue patched skin.

Milde smirked.

“It’s not fair,” said Péton. “If I wanted to look like that, it would take hours to get all the makeup off afterwards.”

“I think you’d look good in makeup,” said Milde.

“Don’t be daft,” said Clæfre. “You’d be rubbing up against the wrong tree if he did.”

“What do you mean?” said Elewýs.

Leth cleared his throat and the two sisters burst out laughing. Sir Wulfslæd’s poker face twitched. As the long march progressed and their supplies diminished, the knight had removed all of the armour on his arms and legs, and tied it to the back of Leth’s horse, compromising with a mere hauberk and coat-of-plates.

“Did I say something wrong?” said Elewýs.

“You’re doing fine,” said Péton. “Don’t take those two too seriously. You’ll only chase your thoughts into a circle.”

Elewýs glanced over her shoulder. Her mother still hid at the back of the troop leading the pack mule.

Should I try and talk to her? Does she know who I am? Is it possible to forget the name of your own daughter?

“Big storm coming,” said Cempa. “What do you want to do, Sir?”

“Surely you don’t fear a little rain, Cempa?” said Sir Wulfslæd.

“I fear anything I’m powerless against. Nature is one of them.” Cempa unrolled the wool-lined, waxed canvas blanket hanging from beneath his pack and wrapped it around his shoulders, “Which is why I have this.”

“You always look so smug in that thing,” said Clæfre. “Every morning I wake up cold and damp while you flaunt your dry clothes. It wouldn’t hurt to share, you know.”

“I’m not that lonely,” said Cempa.

“Hey!” said Clæfre.

Leth tapped Clæfre’s shoulder. She whipped round.

“What?” said Clæfre.

Leth jumped back, “I might be able to help.”

Clæfre looked him up and down and raised her eyebrow, “Really?”

Leth frowned and tapped his staff, “Everyone stay close, otherwise this won’t work.”

A strong wind tugged at Elewýs’s feet. Mésia drew nearer, pack mule in tow. A twelve foot column of grass and grit laden air rose from the top of Leth’s staff. Thunder rolled in and it began to rain, but none of the rain fell on the troop. To Elewýs, it looked as if they were beneath a great glass dome threaded with strands of silver and decorated with tiny stones and grass.

“Whatever you do, don’t touch the dome or the column,” said Leth. “They could shred you.”

Milde laughed, “That was smooth, Leth.”

Clæfre folded her arms, “I guess you can help.”

“Thank you, Letholdus,” said Sir Wulfslæd. “You can put your blanket away Cempa. It’s too early for a snooze.”

“Bugger,” said Cempa. He re-rolled his precious blanket.

“I didn’t know you could do this,” said Elewýs. “It’s amazing!”

Leth scratched the back of his head and shrugged. He never took his eyes off the column of air rising from his staff.

“This sort of magic drains the area quickly,” said Leth. “We should keep moving or the spell will end and we’ll get wet.”

The troop continued their march. Elewýs edged to the back of the troop while ensuring her head didn’t brush the top of Leth’s air dome. At long last, she walked beside her mother.

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“Hello,” said Elewýs.

Mésia grunted.

Elewýs lowered her voice, “Heudebrant and Menghenyld are dead, so is your granddaughter, Hunig. She was three years old. You’d have liked her.”

Mésia stared straight ahead. It was the first time Elewýs had spoken of their deaths. Speaking about them made it real. Elewýs felt her eyes grow heavy and her cheeks swell.

“I had a fiancée too. His name was Eormenric. He was a good man, as was his father, Fustrendel. Our wedding would have taken place on the winter solstice.”

Elewýs blinked several times. She’d been so uncertain about the marriage. Now she’d give anything to see Eormenric again. Elewýs enjoyed being loved, but she didn’t expect to find it from the woman beside her.

“I’ve dreamed about the moment when I would see my mother again every day. I would often gaze in the direction of Éaggemeare from the treetops at the forest’s edge, hoping to catch a glimpse of my home. It turns out I was looking in the wrong direction.”

Mésia’s face twisted in a cruel smile, “At least you know your place.”

Elewýs froze.

“Watch out!” said Leth.

Elewýs ducked and Leth backed up a few steps.

Mésia laughed, then whispered, “Don’t lose your head, girl.”

“That was close,” said Leth. “You’d best walk next to me.”

Elewýs rushed to the centre.

“You alright, lovey?” said Clæfre. “You look like you’ve had an awful fright.”

“I’m fine,” said Elewýs.

Milde snorted, “You don’t look it.”

“Don’t bother my patients,” said Péton. “There’s more to wounds than the eye can see.”

“I am your bloody patient,” said Milde. “Why don’t you ask me how I’m feeling?”

“You stopped complaining three days ago,” said Péton. “I assumed you were cured.”

“I knew it was quiet for a reason,” said Clæfre.

“I thought it was the three bottles of healing accelerator she drank,” said Péton.

“Three!” said Cempa. “What sort of monster are you, that stuff makes me feel funny.”

“I’m glad you’re both feeling better, because those things are ten sceattas a bottle,” said Leth.

Milde’s eyes widened, “Does that mean I’m fixed on the inside now?”

“There are so many ways I could take that one, I don’t know where to start,” said Clæfre.

Leth sighed, “You’d better be, we’re out of medicine.”

“What’s next, Sir?” said Péton.

“Escort our guests home, pick up Weard, and travel to Tégemýðe,” said Sir Wulfslæd. “Then I hope to acquire an audience with the King.”

Escort me home? Elewýs began to panic. Do I even want to stay in Éaggemeare? What will dad say? Is he alive? Maybe I can visit Tégemýðe. It would be preferable to staying with mum. What would I do after that? I can’t follow Sir Wulfslæd about forever. Elewýs slumped. My predicament is the same today as it was when my whole life was vaporized.

Was the safety of those walls, the comforting nature of Fustrendel, and the Galdorcwide nothing but an illusion. Why did a people who’d survived for hundreds of years disappear in an instant? I searched all the homes for answers and found nothing but ashes.

Milde stood on her stirrups and whispered in Elewýs ear, “Cheer up, we’re almost there.”

Elewýs stopped staring at her feet and followed Milde’s gesture. They were a couple of hours away. It was difficult to discern details through the dome, but the earthworks, skewed buildings, and greenery seemed off somehow. Elewýs felt a savage twist in the pit of her stomach, she didn’t recognise her home at all.

Mésia rushed to the front, “Something’s wrong.”

“We can’t do anything about that now,” said Sir Wulfslæd. “The smoke rising from the town is white, so I doubt it’s that serious.”

Elewýs stumbled onwards. It took a huge amount of effort not to cry. For once, she was grateful for her height, it made it difficult for people to watch her feelings flashing across her face.

There was nothing Elewýs could do as the moment of truth marched closer with every mile. Dread welled up inside her. A part of her thought it was absurd, but it was rare for events to proceed as she imagined.

Elewýs was too lost in her own doubts to notice when the rain stopped and Leth’s dome disappeared with a patter of pebbles. She heard none of the excited murmurs of the troop as they traversed the last mile.

A ragged rabble of lean inhabitants, led by a smiling young man with shoulder-length blonde hair, waited for them at the village entrance.

“Ahoy there, pretty boy!” said Clæfre.

The young man waved, “Welcome back. Who’s the lovely lady?”

Elewýs realized the young man was talking about her.

Oh wow, he actually sounds genuine.

His appearance matched the description of Weard, one of the soldiers the troop had left behind.

The crowd backed away from Weard as the troop approached. Elewýs sighed. At least one person had made an effort to greet her. Before anyone could answer Weard’s question a man shot from the crowd, shouting at the top of his voice.

“Elewýs!” The man ran at her with arms outstretched. He was malnourished and his hands were half black with dirt, thin curly brown hair bobbed beneath a firm straw hat with a wide brim. He wore a coarse, knee length brown tunic and his feet were bare.

It took Elewýs a moment to recognise him, “Dad?” she said. He barrelled into her, his face smacking into the base of her sternum. His arms barely made it around her waist. She was being hugged.

“You’ve grown,” said Hoff, between sniffs and bouts of sobbing.

Milde swayed in the saddle, clutching her stomach, trying in vain not to ruin the moment.

Cempa glared at Milde, “Didn’t you hear what Hoff said? Mésia must be her mother and she never said a thing!”

“I know, I know,” said Milde. “But do parents ever say anything else?”

Cempa sighed, then chuckled, “I can’t argue there.”

Elewýs gave up on trying to follow their hushed conversation. She knelt and embraced her father. Several minutes of quiet, awkward voices passed as the news whipped through the loitering residents.