| Fantasy Fiction posted September 24, 2020 | Chapters: |
...3 4 -5- 6... 
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Mara and Aallotar bond in the cave.
A chapter in the book Within the Bone
An Offer
by K. Olsen
| Background Mara has fled Sjaligr injured, for the moment, after bringing a prophecy of doom to her father from the troll Kalevi. Meanwhile, in the far south, the darkness promised by Void has arrived. |
Mara knew well that she was being watched as she brought the flint and steel together, showering her char cloth and tinder with expertly struck sparks. Aallotar had moved back against the cave wall like she feared even the promise of flames, but her golden eyes followed every movement of the huntress’s hands with relentless curiosity.
“You really don’t use fire, do you?” Mara said, surprised. How did Aallotar eat food or stay warm? Winter in the mountains was always brutal, enough to drive even great bears into hibernation to escape the cold.
“No need,” Aallotar said, cocking her head slightly as she watched. “It is a thing of mennskr.”
“I promise you that it infinitely improves meat,” Mara said. There was no way in hell that the wildling had grown to her present height and musculature without eating animal flesh, which meant she’d probably eaten it raw. It was a concept that made Mara wince internally. “You should try it.”
Aallotar shifted uncomfortably as the fire caught, slowly growing to consume the tinder before licking at the kindling that Mara had found. “I…”
“I promise it won’t hurt,” Mara said, flashing Aallotar a winning smile. “Trust me on this.”
“When you go and fire is no more?” the wildling said pointedly. “If I like and cannot have again?”
“I can teach you how to do this,” Mara offered. “Then you won’t even need me.”
Aallotar shook her head. “Only mennskr can use.”
“Anyone can wield flame, so long as they understand that it is a fine servant and a deadly master,” Mara said, carefully bringing her little fire together. She had waited until she had Aallotar’s permission for the fire to make it, but the wildling still seemed intimidated by it. She smiled more softly at Aallotar. “If it makes you feel better, I promise I won’t hurt you with it. It’s just a tool.”
“I...suppose.” Aallotar sounded dubious, but her posture relaxed slightly. She watched the flames with pensive eyes.
Mara worked away diligently until her makeshift hearth was burning well, but the fire itself was still small. She glanced over at Aallotar often, bruised jaw aching as she gave the wildling a crooked smile. There was something wonderful about the way Aallotar returned the expression shyly. Not that Mara lingered on such a thought long. She knew how this would end, no matter how much Aallotar seemed to want someone around too.
Aallotar stayed at a distance for a good ten minutes before approaching the small fire like it was some wounded predator that could lash out at any distance. “It is warm,” she observed as she drew closer, a hesitant smile forming.
“I should hope so,” Mara said with amusement, turning her attention now to the trout she’d caught on her evening venture out with Aallotar now that her face was tended to. There was only one fish, but it was one of the largest she’d ever caught. She’d cleaned it already, so now it was only a matter of cooking it. Mara’s cooking was always rough and ready, but she did a fine job if one wasn’t grading on appearances. She laid out a plate from her pack for the fish as soon as it was roasting away.
Aallotar reached for the fish, to save it from the fire, but Mara flicked the back of her hand just hard enough to dissuade her. “I—”
“Trust me,” Mara said gently. She didn’t know why or how Aallotar never learned to use fire, but she wouldn't shame the wildling for it. Particularly not since Aallotar was the closest to a friend she’d ever had. “This will make it better. I even have sea salt for it.”
“Are you from the seaside?”
“No,” Mara explained, carefully arranging her fish over the fire on a forked, green stick spit. “My father’s hall is to the southwest. We’re almost a month’s travel through the mountains from the coast, but we trade with the cities along the fjords. My roots are in the stone still.” She flashed Aallotar a smile. “Though not so much as you.”
“Mine is the wild,” Aallotar acknowledged.
“Have you ever seen a city?” Mara asked curiously.
The wildling shook her head. “I stay far from mennskr lands,” she said. “I do not go more south than the Sylfr River. All that is north of river-waters and west of the Great Rift is ours.”
“It’s surprising how few stories there are of this place,” the huntress said as she settled in more comfortably, watching the fish roast with careful attention. “At least, those that at all resemble the truth.”
“Stories require survivors,” Aallotar said solemnly. “The hunting grounds here hold many the bones of mennskr who tried to trespass during the ancient days.”
Mara looked over at the wildling. “You haven’t hurt me. The opposite, in fact.”
Golden eyes suddenly looked away from her. “You are not like them.”
“How so?”
Aallotar shrugged, but did not indicate that she intended to elaborate until Mara’s hand caught her wrist. The wildling’s eyes widened slightly as she looked down at the grip. The contact came as a surprise.
Mara held gently enough that Aallotar could easily pull away. “You can talk to me.”
“I cannot explain,” Aallotar said hesitantly. Mara could practically see the words burning up inside the wildling’s throat, but she kept them behind pressed lips. It left Mara with a similar opinion about her odds of success at pushing as the brief exchange about the beast did. There were some things about Aallotar’s life that the wildling was not about to share.
Mara wanted to know, particularly since some of it seemed to be about her. At the same time, however, her fear of Aallotar reacting poorly to the intrusion nipped her curiosity in the bud. Her face already ached from Gareth’s blow. It would be better not to earn any other abuse or worse. “Alright,” she said with a sigh, letting go of Aallotar’s wrist. She flashed the wildling a smile when those golden eyes seemed concerned, anything to ease the sudden tension. “Keep your secrets.”
Aallotar shifted to sit beside Mara so close they were almost in contact, bumping her shoulder gently into Mara’s. “Thank you,” she said in a low voice.
Mara felt her cheeks heat up. It was strange and wonderful to be thanked by anyone, particularly for such a tiny thing. “I do owe you, remember? That means I have to be nice.”
The wildling laughed at that. “No,” Aallotar said in her strange, clumsy way of speaking. “It means you catch for me a deer. Nice is extra.”
The huntress grinned at that. “I think I can manage that.”
“Can you?” Aallotar teased. “When we met, you had trouble so doing.”
Mara turned to look at the wildling, pursing her lips. “Was that a jab at my skills in hunting?” she demanded, barely able to keep the smile off her face. Gaius had left something of an impression on her, so when teasing, she did so straight-faced.
Aallotar’s eyes widened slightly, and she immediately went to apologize. “I did not mean—”
The huntress softened immediately. “I wasn’t actually upset, Aallotar,” she said more gently. “Just going to tease back. It was a joke.”
Aallotar’s face reddened with embarrassment at that. “I am not wise with faces,” she admitted.
“The peril of living alone, I suppose. I’m not angry or offended, I promise you,” Mara said. There was something about the way Aallotar’s eyes reflected the firelight that didn’t seem normal, a hint of glow to them. “How long have you been alone out here?”
Aallotar shrugged and gave Mara a small, almost apologetic smile. “Many turnings of the seasons,” she said. “I would make my own way.”
“I can understand that,” Mara said, touching her face gingerly with her fingertips. “When I’m back in Sjaligr, all I can think about is getting away. The woods are lonely, but no more so than living surrounded by...that.”
“Why do you stay?”
Mara’s expression turned rueful. “A good question,” she said, carefully adjusting the fish where it was cooking. The smell was already wonderful.
“An answer you do not have?” Aallotar said gently.
“Something like that,” Mara admitted. “I guess it’s mostly that I don’t want to upset my mother. It doesn’t help that no matter where I go, I’m marked forever by what I am and people hate it as much as they fear it. It’s like leprosy of the spirit.”
“I do not hate,” Aallotar said. “Nor fear.”
Mara smiled faintly, though she tried to ignore the current of warmth through her soul at those words. She knew it wouldn’t last, but the words were still sweetly spoken. “It’s things like that that really make me wonder how sane you are.”
“That was joking,” the wildling hazarded, though she wasn’t certain.
Not exactly, Mara reflected, but instead of voicing that, she flicked Aallotar’s hand lightly. “Why do the nice ones all have to be crazy hermits living in the woods?” she teased.
Aallotar’s expression could only be described as pouting. It was, in Mara’s estimation, adorable. “Not crazy.”
“I suppose we’ll see,” Mara said. She leaned back against the rock shelf to her back with a surprising comfort around a stranger. It was easier to talk to Aallotar, maybe just because the wildling didn’t really know who she was or what she was capable of. Ignorance was probably the best explanation for Aallotar’s kindness at this point.
The wildling looked over at the fish to watch it cook. Now and then, she pulled in a deep breath to enjoy the aroma. “It smells good,” she murmured after a few more minutes.
“It’ll taste even better, I promise,” Mara said. “Just don’t wolf it down. It’ll be hot and you might burn yourself.”
Aallotar looked over at her, head turning almost sharply. “I will not,” she promised after a second’s hesitation.
The fish came out even better than Mara had hoped, looking every bit perfectly cooked because of her constant fussing with it. A sprinkle of sea salt and the addition of a few wild herbs both as it cooked and afterwards turned it from a simple mountain trout into a meal to remember. Mara felt immensely proud of her cooking skills in that moment, particularly since it was going to be Aallotar’s first experience with roasted fish. Possibly with roasted anything.
“This might be hard to eat,” Mara said with a grin as she watched the meat of the fish fall apart at pressure from her knife as she divided it into two halves, giving Aallotar the larger one. The wildling was bigger and her gaze was downright ravenous after being inundated with the smell, so Mara figured generosity was in order. She’d barely had the patience to let it cool a little, waiting only at Mara’s insistence. “I never do this well. Aamu would be proud.”
“Aamu?” Aallotar said, looking at her section of fish with fascination. She used her fingers to pick up a chunk, but it fell apart immediately, which meant she had to catch it in her hand.
“She taught me about the woods,” Mara said, grateful for a fond memory. “Tough as hickory, charming as a thorn bush, but with a good heart. She spent more time in the wilds than anyone I’d ever met until you.”
“I think I would like her,” Aallotar said with a smile.
“She went to the Aurora four winters ago,” the huntress said, sorrow touching her voice for a moment. She smiled all the same, fondness still mingled with sadness. “In her sleep. Death was a little too scared of her to knock on her door while she was in a state to answer it.”
Aallotar reached out, putting the hand that wasn’t holding fish on Mara’s shoulder. “Gentle ends for gentle souls are Death at her best,” the wildling said. Her next words were a soft request. “Tell me about her?”
Mara nodded, grateful for the comfort and the opportunity. She’d grieved Aamu alone, with no one to speak with about the old woman. “Only if you eat your fish.”
The wildling nodded and ate from her palm without hesitation. It was entirely ungraceful and not at all proper, but Mara grinned when Aallotar’s eyes widened and she let out a hum of approval. The smile across the wildling’s face was broad and delighted.
“Well?” Mara prompted with a laugh. “Is it better than catching it out of the river with your hands and teeth?”
Aallotar beamed despite her earlier hesitation. “Much!” She poked Mara gently in the ribs. “I will eat much. Tell me of Aamu.”
Mara used her knife to lift fish to her mouth. She’d eaten this way so many times that it was easy to do so without losing the fish. Aallotar continued mangling her half with her fingers, which was more endearing than offensive. “What do you want to hear?” she asked.
“Tell me of Aamu and fish. How did she catch them?”
“Most of the time? She used a line and a hook,” Mara said between mouthfuls. “No need for a pole, just gnarled fingers making the hook and its bait dance. She snared only the most cunning of fish, even in the dead of winter, fishing through the ice. I used to think it was magic, but she would always slap me whenever I asked her for the incantation.”
“She did not use magic?” Aallotar guessed.
“Never. She always said it was because sound scares the fish away, and she had a glare worthy of a death-knight for any girl raising too much racket moving through the brush on the banks,” the huntress said fondly. “She thought magic was too important and dangerous to use doing every little thing. It was one thing she didn’t like about Sjaligr. She lit her fires with flint and steel, scrubbed her floors with a brush, tended her gardens by hand, even dug her own cesspit with a shovel. Anything she could do by hand, she did, and she taught me how.”
Aallotar nodded thoughtfully at that. “She was wise.”
“She learned to be,” Mara said, voice taking on a quieter tone. “Aamu was gifted in death-magic. She knew all about the price of spells.”
The wildling’s eyes widened slightly. “Powerful, evil magic.”
“Some people just have the gift for it. Aamu was one of them. It wasn’t like she studied it or sought its power, but she knew that if she wasn’t careful, she could disturb the rest of the dead with a thought. Aamu never intentionally raised any corpses, but when she was young, my age, she had a lover who was killed in a battle. Grieving, she went to find him on the field to bury his body and make certain his soul could pass on.”
“And he rose,” Aallotar whispered.
Mara nodded. “She said it was the most horrible thing she had ever seen. She put him back to rest, but she had to strike him down to do it. I think it soured her on magic.”
“As it would anyone, enduring such a thing.” Aallotar’s golden eyes grew sympathetic at even the thought. “Such a pain.”
“She was never afraid to speak of it,” Mara said. “It always surprised me, confused me, how she could just go to such a terrible place. She said it was important to remember, to tell. There is always a price, a danger, to magic. Woe to those who forget that, she would always say.”
“And she taught you such wisdom.”
Mara laughed. “I made her.” When Aallotar cocked her head curiously, Mara smiled. “I was her little shadow for a full season before she officially taught me anything. Everything she did, I followed her for. She couldn’t be rid of me. We were both very, very stubborn. She gave in eventually and started to actually explain and show me things instead of watching helplessly as I tried to copy her and failed. She always said, My respect to the little wildflower that digs its roots into rock.”
“She saw herself in you.” Aallotar looked up from her fish, giving Mara a smile. She was almost finished with her part of the meal already.
“I hope so,” Mara said. A connection to anyone was a pleasant one, but particularly to Aamu. “Though she was braver than I am. She didn’t tolerate anyone giving her grief without giving them a piece of her mind. I can’t say I live to that example.”
Aallotar smiled. “How old was Aamu when you knew her?”
“Sixty-six winters,” Mara said.
“And you are now?”
“Twenty.”
The wildling shrugged. “So in forty-six winters, you will fear nothing and be as wise as her.”
Mara laughed at that and shook her head. “If I make it to her age, it’ll be a damn miracle,” she said. She studied Aallotar. “How old are you?”
“Many,” Aallotar said with a shrug. “In wilds, who tracks?”
“You must have at least a guess,” Mara said.
“Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six,” Aallotar said, not entirely certain which of those it was.
“You’re more of a spinster than I am,” the huntress teased.
Aallotar furrowed her brow as she cleaned off her hands with a broad burdock leaf. It was a surprising show of restraint, not using her tongue to catch the last of the fish. “Spinster? What is word?”
“Most girls in Sjaligr are married at sixteen,” Mara explained. “Some make it to seventeen before they are, especially if they’re highborn. It gives the fathers extra time to find the best match. Only one or two in a single village make it past eighteen without marrying.”
Aallotar pointed at herself. “This does not marry.”
Mara laughed, trying to imagine Aallotar in a wedding dress. The image was amazing, all that woad and wildness clashing with a fine garment and the manners expected at such an occasion. “Probably for the best,” she said with a smile. “I don’t think you’d like being a housewife.”
“Nor would they like my cave,” the wildling said with amusement. “You are married?”
The levity that Mara felt faltered at that. It was a bitter sore spot, knowing that even if she found someone foolish enough to want to bind himself to her, her father would never consent or pay a dowry. She sighed. “No. It’s...not for me.”
“Not in Sjaligr,” Aallotar said. Her voice was understanding.
Mara leaned back against the stone, letting the touch of cold soothe her. Many of her best memories were of winter-time trapping and adventures with Aamu, so she appreciated the chill even when it was a little uncomfortable. “My father told me he would forbid it,” she said. “I never told my mother, but I think he’s afraid of what might happen if I ever had children.”
“Why?” Aallotar said with a frown.
“I think one empty, soulless, cursed thing in his family line is far more than he’d like already,” Mara said softly. “I don’t want it either, honestly. It’s hard enough for children to grow up in Sjaligr as part of my family. Doing so with my blood in their veins? They would be lucky to live to see a winter.”
A silence passed over the pair of them, broken only by the little snaps and crackles of the fire. Aallotar studied her, face illuminated by the flickering of firelight. After a long moment, she spoke. “Mara?”
“Mm?”
The wildling took a deep breath, then looked at the huntress with her strange, reflecting eyes. “You should stay,” she said more firmly.
Mara offered her a small smile, though she doubted Aallotar would mean it for much longer. "Thank you," she said. "You're probably right, but..." She let the words trail away, feeling terribly foolish. What could she say? That for all its cruelties, Sjaligr was her home? "I'll think about it."
A howl split the quiet of the distance, barely audible in the cave, and Aallotar froze.
“You really don’t use fire, do you?” Mara said, surprised. How did Aallotar eat food or stay warm? Winter in the mountains was always brutal, enough to drive even great bears into hibernation to escape the cold.
“No need,” Aallotar said, cocking her head slightly as she watched. “It is a thing of mennskr.”
“I promise you that it infinitely improves meat,” Mara said. There was no way in hell that the wildling had grown to her present height and musculature without eating animal flesh, which meant she’d probably eaten it raw. It was a concept that made Mara wince internally. “You should try it.”
Aallotar shifted uncomfortably as the fire caught, slowly growing to consume the tinder before licking at the kindling that Mara had found. “I…”
“I promise it won’t hurt,” Mara said, flashing Aallotar a winning smile. “Trust me on this.”
“When you go and fire is no more?” the wildling said pointedly. “If I like and cannot have again?”
“I can teach you how to do this,” Mara offered. “Then you won’t even need me.”
Aallotar shook her head. “Only mennskr can use.”
“Anyone can wield flame, so long as they understand that it is a fine servant and a deadly master,” Mara said, carefully bringing her little fire together. She had waited until she had Aallotar’s permission for the fire to make it, but the wildling still seemed intimidated by it. She smiled more softly at Aallotar. “If it makes you feel better, I promise I won’t hurt you with it. It’s just a tool.”
“I...suppose.” Aallotar sounded dubious, but her posture relaxed slightly. She watched the flames with pensive eyes.
Mara worked away diligently until her makeshift hearth was burning well, but the fire itself was still small. She glanced over at Aallotar often, bruised jaw aching as she gave the wildling a crooked smile. There was something wonderful about the way Aallotar returned the expression shyly. Not that Mara lingered on such a thought long. She knew how this would end, no matter how much Aallotar seemed to want someone around too.
Aallotar stayed at a distance for a good ten minutes before approaching the small fire like it was some wounded predator that could lash out at any distance. “It is warm,” she observed as she drew closer, a hesitant smile forming.
“I should hope so,” Mara said with amusement, turning her attention now to the trout she’d caught on her evening venture out with Aallotar now that her face was tended to. There was only one fish, but it was one of the largest she’d ever caught. She’d cleaned it already, so now it was only a matter of cooking it. Mara’s cooking was always rough and ready, but she did a fine job if one wasn’t grading on appearances. She laid out a plate from her pack for the fish as soon as it was roasting away.
Aallotar reached for the fish, to save it from the fire, but Mara flicked the back of her hand just hard enough to dissuade her. “I—”
“Trust me,” Mara said gently. She didn’t know why or how Aallotar never learned to use fire, but she wouldn't shame the wildling for it. Particularly not since Aallotar was the closest to a friend she’d ever had. “This will make it better. I even have sea salt for it.”
“Are you from the seaside?”
“No,” Mara explained, carefully arranging her fish over the fire on a forked, green stick spit. “My father’s hall is to the southwest. We’re almost a month’s travel through the mountains from the coast, but we trade with the cities along the fjords. My roots are in the stone still.” She flashed Aallotar a smile. “Though not so much as you.”
“Mine is the wild,” Aallotar acknowledged.
“Have you ever seen a city?” Mara asked curiously.
The wildling shook her head. “I stay far from mennskr lands,” she said. “I do not go more south than the Sylfr River. All that is north of river-waters and west of the Great Rift is ours.”
“It’s surprising how few stories there are of this place,” the huntress said as she settled in more comfortably, watching the fish roast with careful attention. “At least, those that at all resemble the truth.”
“Stories require survivors,” Aallotar said solemnly. “The hunting grounds here hold many the bones of mennskr who tried to trespass during the ancient days.”
Mara looked over at the wildling. “You haven’t hurt me. The opposite, in fact.”
Golden eyes suddenly looked away from her. “You are not like them.”
“How so?”
Aallotar shrugged, but did not indicate that she intended to elaborate until Mara’s hand caught her wrist. The wildling’s eyes widened slightly as she looked down at the grip. The contact came as a surprise.
Mara held gently enough that Aallotar could easily pull away. “You can talk to me.”
“I cannot explain,” Aallotar said hesitantly. Mara could practically see the words burning up inside the wildling’s throat, but she kept them behind pressed lips. It left Mara with a similar opinion about her odds of success at pushing as the brief exchange about the beast did. There were some things about Aallotar’s life that the wildling was not about to share.
Mara wanted to know, particularly since some of it seemed to be about her. At the same time, however, her fear of Aallotar reacting poorly to the intrusion nipped her curiosity in the bud. Her face already ached from Gareth’s blow. It would be better not to earn any other abuse or worse. “Alright,” she said with a sigh, letting go of Aallotar’s wrist. She flashed the wildling a smile when those golden eyes seemed concerned, anything to ease the sudden tension. “Keep your secrets.”
Aallotar shifted to sit beside Mara so close they were almost in contact, bumping her shoulder gently into Mara’s. “Thank you,” she said in a low voice.
Mara felt her cheeks heat up. It was strange and wonderful to be thanked by anyone, particularly for such a tiny thing. “I do owe you, remember? That means I have to be nice.”
The wildling laughed at that. “No,” Aallotar said in her strange, clumsy way of speaking. “It means you catch for me a deer. Nice is extra.”
The huntress grinned at that. “I think I can manage that.”
“Can you?” Aallotar teased. “When we met, you had trouble so doing.”
Mara turned to look at the wildling, pursing her lips. “Was that a jab at my skills in hunting?” she demanded, barely able to keep the smile off her face. Gaius had left something of an impression on her, so when teasing, she did so straight-faced.
Aallotar’s eyes widened slightly, and she immediately went to apologize. “I did not mean—”
The huntress softened immediately. “I wasn’t actually upset, Aallotar,” she said more gently. “Just going to tease back. It was a joke.”
Aallotar’s face reddened with embarrassment at that. “I am not wise with faces,” she admitted.
“The peril of living alone, I suppose. I’m not angry or offended, I promise you,” Mara said. There was something about the way Aallotar’s eyes reflected the firelight that didn’t seem normal, a hint of glow to them. “How long have you been alone out here?”
Aallotar shrugged and gave Mara a small, almost apologetic smile. “Many turnings of the seasons,” she said. “I would make my own way.”
“I can understand that,” Mara said, touching her face gingerly with her fingertips. “When I’m back in Sjaligr, all I can think about is getting away. The woods are lonely, but no more so than living surrounded by...that.”
“Why do you stay?”
Mara’s expression turned rueful. “A good question,” she said, carefully adjusting the fish where it was cooking. The smell was already wonderful.
“An answer you do not have?” Aallotar said gently.
“Something like that,” Mara admitted. “I guess it’s mostly that I don’t want to upset my mother. It doesn’t help that no matter where I go, I’m marked forever by what I am and people hate it as much as they fear it. It’s like leprosy of the spirit.”
“I do not hate,” Aallotar said. “Nor fear.”
Mara smiled faintly, though she tried to ignore the current of warmth through her soul at those words. She knew it wouldn’t last, but the words were still sweetly spoken. “It’s things like that that really make me wonder how sane you are.”
“That was joking,” the wildling hazarded, though she wasn’t certain.
Not exactly, Mara reflected, but instead of voicing that, she flicked Aallotar’s hand lightly. “Why do the nice ones all have to be crazy hermits living in the woods?” she teased.
Aallotar’s expression could only be described as pouting. It was, in Mara’s estimation, adorable. “Not crazy.”
“I suppose we’ll see,” Mara said. She leaned back against the rock shelf to her back with a surprising comfort around a stranger. It was easier to talk to Aallotar, maybe just because the wildling didn’t really know who she was or what she was capable of. Ignorance was probably the best explanation for Aallotar’s kindness at this point.
The wildling looked over at the fish to watch it cook. Now and then, she pulled in a deep breath to enjoy the aroma. “It smells good,” she murmured after a few more minutes.
“It’ll taste even better, I promise,” Mara said. “Just don’t wolf it down. It’ll be hot and you might burn yourself.”
Aallotar looked over at her, head turning almost sharply. “I will not,” she promised after a second’s hesitation.
The fish came out even better than Mara had hoped, looking every bit perfectly cooked because of her constant fussing with it. A sprinkle of sea salt and the addition of a few wild herbs both as it cooked and afterwards turned it from a simple mountain trout into a meal to remember. Mara felt immensely proud of her cooking skills in that moment, particularly since it was going to be Aallotar’s first experience with roasted fish. Possibly with roasted anything.
“This might be hard to eat,” Mara said with a grin as she watched the meat of the fish fall apart at pressure from her knife as she divided it into two halves, giving Aallotar the larger one. The wildling was bigger and her gaze was downright ravenous after being inundated with the smell, so Mara figured generosity was in order. She’d barely had the patience to let it cool a little, waiting only at Mara’s insistence. “I never do this well. Aamu would be proud.”
“Aamu?” Aallotar said, looking at her section of fish with fascination. She used her fingers to pick up a chunk, but it fell apart immediately, which meant she had to catch it in her hand.
“She taught me about the woods,” Mara said, grateful for a fond memory. “Tough as hickory, charming as a thorn bush, but with a good heart. She spent more time in the wilds than anyone I’d ever met until you.”
“I think I would like her,” Aallotar said with a smile.
“She went to the Aurora four winters ago,” the huntress said, sorrow touching her voice for a moment. She smiled all the same, fondness still mingled with sadness. “In her sleep. Death was a little too scared of her to knock on her door while she was in a state to answer it.”
Aallotar reached out, putting the hand that wasn’t holding fish on Mara’s shoulder. “Gentle ends for gentle souls are Death at her best,” the wildling said. Her next words were a soft request. “Tell me about her?”
Mara nodded, grateful for the comfort and the opportunity. She’d grieved Aamu alone, with no one to speak with about the old woman. “Only if you eat your fish.”
The wildling nodded and ate from her palm without hesitation. It was entirely ungraceful and not at all proper, but Mara grinned when Aallotar’s eyes widened and she let out a hum of approval. The smile across the wildling’s face was broad and delighted.
“Well?” Mara prompted with a laugh. “Is it better than catching it out of the river with your hands and teeth?”
Aallotar beamed despite her earlier hesitation. “Much!” She poked Mara gently in the ribs. “I will eat much. Tell me of Aamu.”
Mara used her knife to lift fish to her mouth. She’d eaten this way so many times that it was easy to do so without losing the fish. Aallotar continued mangling her half with her fingers, which was more endearing than offensive. “What do you want to hear?” she asked.
“Tell me of Aamu and fish. How did she catch them?”
“Most of the time? She used a line and a hook,” Mara said between mouthfuls. “No need for a pole, just gnarled fingers making the hook and its bait dance. She snared only the most cunning of fish, even in the dead of winter, fishing through the ice. I used to think it was magic, but she would always slap me whenever I asked her for the incantation.”
“She did not use magic?” Aallotar guessed.
“Never. She always said it was because sound scares the fish away, and she had a glare worthy of a death-knight for any girl raising too much racket moving through the brush on the banks,” the huntress said fondly. “She thought magic was too important and dangerous to use doing every little thing. It was one thing she didn’t like about Sjaligr. She lit her fires with flint and steel, scrubbed her floors with a brush, tended her gardens by hand, even dug her own cesspit with a shovel. Anything she could do by hand, she did, and she taught me how.”
Aallotar nodded thoughtfully at that. “She was wise.”
“She learned to be,” Mara said, voice taking on a quieter tone. “Aamu was gifted in death-magic. She knew all about the price of spells.”
The wildling’s eyes widened slightly. “Powerful, evil magic.”
“Some people just have the gift for it. Aamu was one of them. It wasn’t like she studied it or sought its power, but she knew that if she wasn’t careful, she could disturb the rest of the dead with a thought. Aamu never intentionally raised any corpses, but when she was young, my age, she had a lover who was killed in a battle. Grieving, she went to find him on the field to bury his body and make certain his soul could pass on.”
“And he rose,” Aallotar whispered.
Mara nodded. “She said it was the most horrible thing she had ever seen. She put him back to rest, but she had to strike him down to do it. I think it soured her on magic.”
“As it would anyone, enduring such a thing.” Aallotar’s golden eyes grew sympathetic at even the thought. “Such a pain.”
“She was never afraid to speak of it,” Mara said. “It always surprised me, confused me, how she could just go to such a terrible place. She said it was important to remember, to tell. There is always a price, a danger, to magic. Woe to those who forget that, she would always say.”
“And she taught you such wisdom.”
Mara laughed. “I made her.” When Aallotar cocked her head curiously, Mara smiled. “I was her little shadow for a full season before she officially taught me anything. Everything she did, I followed her for. She couldn’t be rid of me. We were both very, very stubborn. She gave in eventually and started to actually explain and show me things instead of watching helplessly as I tried to copy her and failed. She always said, My respect to the little wildflower that digs its roots into rock.”
“She saw herself in you.” Aallotar looked up from her fish, giving Mara a smile. She was almost finished with her part of the meal already.
“I hope so,” Mara said. A connection to anyone was a pleasant one, but particularly to Aamu. “Though she was braver than I am. She didn’t tolerate anyone giving her grief without giving them a piece of her mind. I can’t say I live to that example.”
Aallotar smiled. “How old was Aamu when you knew her?”
“Sixty-six winters,” Mara said.
“And you are now?”
“Twenty.”
The wildling shrugged. “So in forty-six winters, you will fear nothing and be as wise as her.”
Mara laughed at that and shook her head. “If I make it to her age, it’ll be a damn miracle,” she said. She studied Aallotar. “How old are you?”
“Many,” Aallotar said with a shrug. “In wilds, who tracks?”
“You must have at least a guess,” Mara said.
“Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six,” Aallotar said, not entirely certain which of those it was.
“You’re more of a spinster than I am,” the huntress teased.
Aallotar furrowed her brow as she cleaned off her hands with a broad burdock leaf. It was a surprising show of restraint, not using her tongue to catch the last of the fish. “Spinster? What is word?”
“Most girls in Sjaligr are married at sixteen,” Mara explained. “Some make it to seventeen before they are, especially if they’re highborn. It gives the fathers extra time to find the best match. Only one or two in a single village make it past eighteen without marrying.”
Aallotar pointed at herself. “This does not marry.”
Mara laughed, trying to imagine Aallotar in a wedding dress. The image was amazing, all that woad and wildness clashing with a fine garment and the manners expected at such an occasion. “Probably for the best,” she said with a smile. “I don’t think you’d like being a housewife.”
“Nor would they like my cave,” the wildling said with amusement. “You are married?”
The levity that Mara felt faltered at that. It was a bitter sore spot, knowing that even if she found someone foolish enough to want to bind himself to her, her father would never consent or pay a dowry. She sighed. “No. It’s...not for me.”
“Not in Sjaligr,” Aallotar said. Her voice was understanding.
Mara leaned back against the stone, letting the touch of cold soothe her. Many of her best memories were of winter-time trapping and adventures with Aamu, so she appreciated the chill even when it was a little uncomfortable. “My father told me he would forbid it,” she said. “I never told my mother, but I think he’s afraid of what might happen if I ever had children.”
“Why?” Aallotar said with a frown.
“I think one empty, soulless, cursed thing in his family line is far more than he’d like already,” Mara said softly. “I don’t want it either, honestly. It’s hard enough for children to grow up in Sjaligr as part of my family. Doing so with my blood in their veins? They would be lucky to live to see a winter.”
A silence passed over the pair of them, broken only by the little snaps and crackles of the fire. Aallotar studied her, face illuminated by the flickering of firelight. After a long moment, she spoke. “Mara?”
“Mm?”
The wildling took a deep breath, then looked at the huntress with her strange, reflecting eyes. “You should stay,” she said more firmly.
Mara offered her a small smile, though she doubted Aallotar would mean it for much longer. "Thank you," she said. "You're probably right, but..." She let the words trail away, feeling terribly foolish. What could she say? That for all its cruelties, Sjaligr was her home? "I'll think about it."
A howl split the quiet of the distance, barely audible in the cave, and Aallotar froze.
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