One day, all of that changed.
I always took Fairbird with me when I fetched water. When she was little, I could strap her to my back and carry her as well as the heavy skins. At four years old, she was too big for me. Curious as a pouncing puppy, she would scamper off after the smallest butterfly—impossible to keep a hold on! So I would tie a string to my waist and another to hers, and lead her thus down the hill to the stream.
The stream flowed just past the outskirts of the village to the gorge, where it dropped into the river far below. I dared not take my water from any streambed near Redclay, however. I did not wish Fairbird to see how the other women feared her. Therefore, twice a day we would make the long walk down to where the stream ran to the gorge. There was a bank where I could fill the skins and also look down to the rushing water below us.
It was a grand sight, that river running beneath our feet, cutting the ground so deeply. It must have been about its task of carving the land for hundreds and hundreds of years, since before the Beast became our god. I loved to watch that white water, charging and roaring and powerful. I would hold Fairbird and stand on the edge of the gorge, looking down that long way. The river wound through the rock, then vanished into the wild forest that grew below.
One midsummer evening, when the sky was beginning to cool from the harsh heat, I took Fairbird to our customary watering place. She was tired and petulant that day, flinging herself to the ground and signing “No!” more often than I liked. I often wondered if I had given our mother nearly as much trouble! I was tired and harried by the time we reached the stream at the gorge edge . . . which is why, I believe, I did not see the boys.
They must have known I came this way. I had never thought to vary my route or habits, never felt the need for secrecy. I was the Eldest’s daughter. I was ignored and shunned, but I never feared for my safety.
The moment I saw them, five great lads—only just too young to make the rites of passage into manhood and join the warriors—my stomach sank with foreboding. They sprawled on the banks, hot and irritable, some of them dripping from a recent watery brawl. Their dogs lounged nearby, scuffed from fighting one another but docile for the moment. Their ears pricked when they saw me, and their barks alerted their masters.
I drew up short at once, standing there as still as a hunted doe, my waterskins clutched under each arm, my sister tied to my waist.
Five pairs of eyes turned to me.
Just at that moment, Fairbird decided to make one of her dramatic falls, flinging herself to the ground. She tugged me off balance, and I nearly fell myself, dropping one of the skins.
The biggest of the five boys laughed. “Look what we have here,” he said. “The blight!”
“A pretty blight,” said another with a look that made me shudder. “Prettiest blight I’ve ever seen.”
A third slapped this lad on the shoulder saying, “Don’t kiss her, Killdeer! You’ll break out in boils, so they say!”
“And is that the little sacrifice?” a fourth boy asked, pointing to my sister. There was cruelty in his face.
I dropped the other waterskin and hastened to pick up Fairbird. She was too far gone in her sulk to realize the danger before us. She wrapped her arms around my neck and wept silent tears into my shoulder for some grievance I still don’t know. My attention was fixed on the second boy, who had gotten to his feet. He wasn’t the biggest of the bunch, but I knew him by reputation: Killdeer, the son of one of my father’s warriors. He was a sullen-faced youth who hated his father with such a grim passion that many wondered how long it would be until one of them killed the other. But I scarcely cared about that. What mattered to me was what he had done to his dog.
All the village boys are given dogs the year before their manhood rites. These dogs will later follow them into battle and are as much a part of a warrior as his right arm. My father, as Eldest, had several great lurchers that accompanied him everywhere. I loved these dogs. In the winter months, it was my duty to care for them. They were such powerful animals, with fiercely loyal hearts. And they loved me. I was, in their eyes, as much their better as the Eldest himself, and they obeyed me, and I learned their ways and handling.
I would have loved to have my own dog. A wild fancy for a woman.