Stranger Skies
The Witch's Name
The next day saw an excursion to the market for the entire family. Scoas needed new seeds to start indoors in preparation for the approaching planting season; Natai needed new sewing supplies, flour, and other kitchen staples they couldn’t provide themselves on the farm. Brinna was in search of more yarn so she could finish Silva’s sweater and Alaev was just tagging along to help his dad and perhaps see some of his friends.
The purpose of this trip was twofold for the former goddess of the wild wolves. One, she needed new clothes and Natai had generously offered to buy her some. She promised the woman she’d pay her back but Natai would hear nothing of it.
“We’re hardly destitute and giving charitably, when one has the ability, honours the gods.”
You have no idea, thought Silva but she argued the matter no more. She vowed to herself that she’d find a way to pay them back, even if secretly.
The second reason she was excited to go into town was the opportunity for observation. She knew very little about the Minae. She was curious about their way of life, how they dressed, what they did for a living. She wanted to know all about the marvelous variety of these humanoids, as much to learn how to fit into their society better as for her own naturally inquisitive nature. Realizing that was proof enough to Silva that she was still a wolf in her soul, no matter her outward appearance.
The farmstead lay not far from Heartpin Town, about halfway between the Steelmint Forest and the road that led west to Heartpin and east to Whitewight Coast, and, if one then turned south, to Daetus City. Daetus was the home of Duchess Innis, and the capitol of Min. Alongside the road to town flowed Heartpin River, which led to Birch Lake in the west and Latenip Sea in the east. To the north and east lay two more towns of Min, Fallwoman Shire and Solai Parish — and the Eronenian Mountains, forming the high border between Min and Thaen.
Brinna had told Silva all of this quite avidly on their trip from the farm.
The newly-made mortal woman could not ride a horse; she sat in the wagon. Brinna had elected not to ride so she could keep her new friend company. Scoas, Alaev, and Natai all rode horses.
It was not that Silva could not figure out how to ride a horse, probably, nor that she feared mounting an equine. She had been perfectly willing.
It was that the horse in question, upon a single whiff of Silva, promptly reared up on its hind legs, whinnying a very clear NO NO NO NO WOLF GET HER AWAY FROM ME NO NO NO.
She apparently could still understand other animals, even if she couldn’t change form. Equally clearly, they certainly recognized her as wolf.
She told the family it was just as well, that she feared horses anyway. Could she ride in a wagon, perhaps? They readily agreed and did not try to match any other poor equine with her, which was good, for she knew each one would react the same way. Or perhaps attack her. Horses did that sometimes, when faced with wolf.
So she rode in the wagon, which was pulled by long leads from Alaev’s sturdy pony. The pony looked and smelled old and did not seem to notice Silva’s wolf scent. Scoas and Natai’s horses were skittish around her and the two adults rode further ahead of Alaev and the wagon. They left about an hour before dawn, for the days were short in winter and the ride would be an hour long.
This placed Silva in the perfect spot to watch a Minae sunrise. She sat facing east, with a clear view of the sun as it crept over the horizon, waking the land to a new day.
It was gorgeous. She saw all the colours now she was Minae, instead of the usual wolfish range of blues, yellows, and greens. The sunrise was a brilliant red with streaks of orange, yellow, and violet. As the sun climbed up through the cloud cover and stretched its fingers over the land, the radiance of the colours faded somewhat, though they were still far more brilliant than the colours of Terran or Cetian skies.
The entire sky of this world was a red-violet and the clouds ranged from orange to blue, bright to dull. The violet sky seemed to warm everything on the ground — even the stark white snow.
Were she a wolf, this sky would have been a medium grey shade, with the reds of the sunrise darker grey, almost black. She wondered if the wolves of this world saw colours differently from her Terran or Cetian cubs.
Apparently it was common enough in Min for folks of either gender to cover their hair, usually for religious reasons, though sometimes just because they wanted to. Before leaving the farmstead, Brinna had suggested Silva wear something on her head. Her green and white hair was so unusual it was bound to raise unnecessary questions. She readily agreed, and wrapped her hair in a gorgeous piece of purple wool, letting parts of the fabric wrap around her neck and shoulders, too. It had the added benefit of keeping her warmer. She was still very thin from her brush with fatal withdrawal and this body chilled so easily.
The rest of the family wore knit hats, no doubt made by Brinna, to keep their heads warm, and scarves for their necks. Each had a woollen coat to keep out the cold, along with mitts and boots. They’d lent Silva extras and she sat wrapped in a cocoon of wool. She buried her face in the fabric and breathed in the smell of sheep happily. She would miss chasing the little buggers.
Market was bustling despite the early hour and cold weather. The clouds remained in the east and the rest of the sky was clear. A slight wind chapped exposed skin and weaseled its way into the nooks and crannies of one’s woollen winter armour. Despite the brilliance of the sunrise, Silva found herself wishing it was overcast so it would feel a bit warmer.
The people of Min didn’t seem to mind. They milled all over market, talking, laughing, haggling with merchants. The market was a mostly outdoor affair, although some stores had real buildings instead of brightly coloured tents. It was in the center of Heartpin Town, across from the Town Hall. The roads of Heartpin were packed dirt, wide enough for four horse teams pulling wagons to pass. Market, however, allowed no horses within its vast square, so they parked their beasts of burden and the wagon just outside.
Brinna had to hurry to the yarn merchant, she said, for he always sold out of the best yarns quickly, so Silva went with Scoas and Natai on their rounds.
First they visited the tailor, a merchant who had his own building, where Silva was fitted for new clothing. She had never been so happy to be poked and prodded by a complete stranger; it was as if her winter coat were growing in again and she could look forward to being warmer in the coming weeks. Her new humanoid body was so thin-skinned, she felt she should ask for her clothes to be made as warm as possible.
When the order was done, it included three pairs of pants, two skirts, a warm dress, three long-sleeved undershirts, and two pairs of long, thick underwear. The tailor assured her the clothes would be ready in one week, which was eight days in this country, and all made from flax, cotton, or wool. She was impressed by so quick a turnaround.
Next came a quick trip to the cobbler, who took measurements of Silva’s feet, which were quite large. He’d have two pairs of boots made for her within a week: they made plans to pick those up with the clothing. The final stop in the journey to outfit Silva was the rucksack store, a small place that smelled strongly of leather. Silva felt all the rucksacks hanging from the walls, sniffing and trying on each one, trying to decide which one she wanted the most. Finally she chose a cowhide one: the animal had been old when it died and there was no fear on its skin. The rucksack reached the full length of her back and fit comfortably against it, with wide, soft-edged straps for her shoulders. It didn’t bump into her head awkwardly and there were several extra pockets on its outside.
All in all, it was perfect. Scoas and Natai seemed more than happy to buy it for Silva, even though she could tell it cost a lot. She promised herself again that she’d find a way to pay them back.
As Natai headed off to the cloth merchant, Silva elected to tag along with Scoas and Alaev to the seed traders.
On the way over, Silva noted something odd. There was a man and his wife, obviously with child. The man — not the woman. She whispered to Scoas, asking him about it.
“I forget, you’re not from here,” he whispered back congenially. “Is it different where you’re from?”
She nodded. Regardless the existence of non-binary genders and transgender people, many of the Terran worlds she’d seen or heard of had organized their mainly binary gender systems around who begat children and who bore them. Bearers were usually classified as women and begetters as men. This was the first instance she’d heard of, or seen, where it was opposite.
“Well, it’s usual enough here. I carried both Alaev and Brinna myself.” Scoas smiled at her, his beard and mustache moving with his lips. He gestured to another part of market with his eyebrows. Silva turned and looked, and saw another couple: the woman was with child and the man had a sling tied to his torso. A wool-clad little leg dangled from between the sling and the man, and she could see the face and head of a toddler poking out, looking at everything. “We often carry the babes after birth, too, though Natai certainly did more than her share.”
Silva nodded. It was more complicated than she’d originally thought. She found herself wondering about genital arrangement and mammary glands. Were the young fed differently in this place? As far as she could tell, her genitals, at least on the outside, were similar to those of a child-bearing Terran or Cetian and she definitely had teats, small as they were, two of them, as did most humanoids she’d encountered. At a cursory glance, there seemed little to no difference between the teats of men and women here in Min.
Silva had no idea what her inner reproductive organs looked like. Were there lingering effects of her trying to change mid-fall to this planet, as with her hair colour? Should she be classified male, here in Min? How was reproduction achieved here, anyway? She thought of the star she’d seen on her own forehead and on Natai, Brinna, Enendoa, and other Minae women she’d seen at Market. If that was the criterion for the separation of the sexes here, then she was meant to be female in Min, which left her questioning if the rest of her body fit to Min’s classification of “female” — if there was such a classification.
Normally a wolf’s nose could smell who had what, which was why the idea of non-binary gender usually confused her lupine children. But for whatever reason, her sense of smell betrayed her in this area. They all just smelled…Minae. She couldn’t denote gender identity via her olfactory senses any more than she could determine reproductive structure. Maybe all the bodies were the same.
Fascinating as this new, completely un-Terran development was, it might be rude to ask more questions. She’d stow her wondering for the time being. She could be patient, after all, and besides, they’d reached the seed traders’ area of Market.
The first trader they saw was D’ssah, a Gssn’lthari and a friend of Scoas.
“D’ssah, meet our cousin Cait from Fallwoman Shire.” They had decided, before leaving the farm, on Silva’s cover story; telling people she’d fallen out of the sky would have been unbelievable and perhaps dangerous if believed.
D’ssah was almost eight feet tall, and as wide as Scoas and Natai put together, plus a little more. He smiled at Silva-Cait — at least, she thought it was a smile. D’ssah had a snout-like mouth, filled with vicious-looking fangs and a forked tongue that flicked in and out quickly, as if trying to whip the air. His skin was scaled like a snake’s, coloured in varying hues of green. Two slits formed nostrils above his muzzle-like mouth and large, black eyes blinked at her with vertical eyelids.
D’ssah had no hair but his skin fanned out to create an impressive hood that framed his head. He wore a thick, fur-lined jacket not unlike Silva’s old parka and around his waist was a pleated skirt. Instead of legs, a long snake’s tail protruded from the bottom of the skirt and curled up behind him on the ground. He swayed slightly as he balanced on his tail and the very tip of it flicked back and forth as if it were keeping time.
He looked like a cross between a Terran man and a very big cobra.
D’ssah extended a long arm; his thick, strong, scaly hand clasped Silva’s in greeting. She expected his skin to be cold and slimy; instead, it was warm, dry, and smooth as polished glass. She had no idea if all snakes, or snake-people, felt the same; she’d never held a snake before.
“Pleasssed to meet you, Cait. How are you enjoying your ssstay in Heartpin?”
She smiled at him. “It’s very nice, thank you. The people here are lovely.”
“Minae people are open to ssstrangersss of all kindsss,” D’ssah said. His eyes regarded her shrewdly. “Even thossse who are from very alien placesss.”
She swallowed nervously. Did D’ssah know the truth of her past? How would he? For some reason, the thought of her true, non-Minae nature being exposed turned every instinct in Silva to flight; her senses urged her to turn tail and run.
But D’ssah said nothing more on it. Instead he turned and gestured to another snake-person in his booth: smaller, and without the hood D’ssah had, this Gssn’lthari had scales of a vibrant blue colour and wore clothing very similar to D’ssah’s. “My lifemate, J’th. She isss my heartsss’ diamond.” At the sound of her name, J’th had slithered forward to stand beside her mate; now she looked away and smiled in a way that said she would be blushing if she could. D’ssah addressed his mate directly: “J’th, meet Ssscoasss’ cousssin, Cait. You two might have much to talk about.” He then slithered off with Scoas, the two men talking about plants and seeds.
J’th looked at Silva and when their gazes locked a bolt of recognition shot through Silva like lightning, though she knew she’d never seen this woman before, in either life.
J’th opened her mouth slightly and leaned in close to Silva, forked tongue flicking out and tasting the air around the wolf goddess. Silva stood still and waited, feeling no fear.
When J’th leaned back she smiled. “Cait isss not your True Name, isss it?” At Silva’s stunned affirmation, J’th nodded. “I thought ssso. There isss another name, hidden, never ssspoken on thisss planet. It isss not your True Name, either, but it wasss.”
Silva found her tongue buried under the rubble of shock. “Do you…are you…like me?” Another deity, made mortal, in this place? That couldn’t be coincidence.
J’th nodded only slightly. “A bit. I wasss alwaysss of Gssn’lthari people. My True Name isss from Gssn; J’th isss the lie.
“But my people do not need me anymore. And my new life…it isss good. I am not unhappy.”
A snake goddess who had lost her godhood on her own planet? What would cause so many people to stop believing so wholly?
Silva had so many questions for the fellow ex-deity. They swam in her head and overwhelmed her; she grasped at the one that seemed most important. “I’m…looking for someone. That’s how I got here. Do you know about…him?” She tried to say the correct pronoun but it came out wrong. The Minae language did not appear to allow for more than two genders.
“Another like you? A god from another world?” J’th was whispering now and she sounded surprised.
“Somewhat like me. He was last seen here. Mortal.” Silva whispered too, though there was no one near them. Still, Minae had good hearing. She didn’t want anyone to catch their conversation.
J’th shook her head sadly. “I am sssorry. You are the firssst I’ve met.” Deep down, Silva had expected this answer. She tried in vain not to let her disappointment show. J’th placed a scaly hand on Silva’s wool-clad arm. “Do not worry. You will find your friend.”
She felt like crying. “How could you know that? I don’t even know what tomorrow will bring, or how long I have here.”
Prophecy. The word came unbidden into Silva’s head, and the final s sound hissed across the landscape of her mind. “I did not lossse everything when I fell,” J’th said out loud.
Silva wanted to stay with J’th and speak with the snake goddess forever. Another deity turned mortal! She had never imagined she’d find someone else who’d been through the same thing. Not even Etan.
“Cait, are you ready?” Scoas called from outside the booth.
“Almost!” she called back, not turning way from J’th. She was scared the woman might disappear if she looked away. “Will we speak again?”
J’th shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Your journey isss ssstill long and hard and jussst beginning. Mine is almossst over. Our pathsss will not crosss again.” She patted Silva’s arm. “I am glad I met you, Lady of the True Woodsss. And thisss world’s deep fursss are glad you are here.”
This last part was spoken so softly that Silva almost didn’t believe she’d heard it. J’th had already turned back to her work in her lifemate’s booth and Silva knew in that moment that it was true—she’d never see J’th again.
Dashing away tears, she turned and went to rejoin her new mortal family.
The rest of the trip to market was almost uneventful and Silva wished it had been.
After the family had finished their shopping, they decided to stop in at the local tavern to have lunch. It was midday already and they were all hungry. Going home to eat would have put off lunch for almost two hours in travel and preparation time; so this seemed the best option.
The tavern was the haunt of local hunters and the walls were covered with their trophies — the heads of dead animals. Feeling queasy, Silva noted elk, deer and even a moose-like creature. As a wolf, she had revelled in the joy of the hunt but she’d never understood the mortal humanoid imperative to decorate their dens with dead trophies of their kills. It showed a lack of gratefulness for the animal that had given its life for the hunter’s. Worse, using the trophies as a marker of strength, prowess or machismo encouraged killing for sport.
There was a huge difference between the thrill of the chase and killing because you could. Wolves killed only for food; never out of murderous joy. Humans seemed a far different animal.
But she knew that these people did eat the animals they hunted; meat was a large part of the diet on the farm and she could smell it cooking in great abundance here in the tavern. They apparently also used most of the animal’s body, to judge by the frequency of furs and leather as fabric choices. That, at least, was a far cry from some Terran societies she’d seen.
She kept her distaste for the heads on the walls hidden. It was obvious no one else had any problems with them. She didn’t want to mark herself an outsider any more than she already seemed.
Packed with people, the tavern was awash in scent. The smell of sweat was strongest, followed by the smells of food on tables and in the kitchens. She could smell the must of ale, the spice of cider, the roaring fire, old wood soaked in the tavern’s history, and, underneath it all, the faint scent of death and fear. She looked at the animal heads on the walls again. She knew exactly where that smell came from.
She tried to ignore it. Resolutely she sat at a booth with her family; when the server took their order, she just asked for what Brinna was having, mutton with potatoes and bread pudding. It was what she wanted, anyway. The smell of her clothes had given her a craving for sheep.
They sat and chatted for a while, about nothing in particular. Brinna showed off her yarn purchases; Silva felt growing excitement for her sweater and another sort of emotion for Brinna bloomed in her chest. She didn’t know what this other emotion was — some odd mix of tenderness, gratitude, and a desire to see the young woman happy. Silva had never experienced such feelings for anyone before. She filed them away under “things to ponder later” and turned her attention back to the conversation.
Natai had bought some gorgeous cloth from the clothier and this she showed off with great relish. Scoas chatted about the various seeds he’d found and speculated that next summer’s crop would be excellent. They were expanding their repertoire of things to grow; he had high hopes for what the farm might produce in the next year.
Soon Silva realized she needed to answer the call of nature; she asked Brinna to point her towards the privy. Excusing herself politely, she headed down the hallway in the direction Brinna had indicated.
Heart’s Blood Tavern had indoor plumbing, which, according to Scoas, made it a rare building in the town. The toilets were composting toilets, however, so the scent of human waste combined with peat overwhelmed Silva’s sensitive nose. She entered the stall and did her business quickly, trying to ignore the pong of the room. There was one sink and a small mirror of that same polished stone. While she washed her hands, she noticed she was more fleshed out than she had been the day before. Minae food worked quickly.
She turned to leave and stopped dead, horror making her veins run ice cold. Above the door was another animal head, someone’s idea of decor.
Its muzzle was posed open in a silent snarl, its ears flattened back on its head, and it was made to look vicious around the eye’s epicanthic folds — but this was all a lie. She reached her hand up to touch the soft fur. It was too high up. She couldn’t reach.
She’d found her first Minae wolf.
The scent of fear and death hit her then; it had been masked before but now that she gazed upon the source it was so clear she reeled. She ran back into the stall and vomited what was left of that morning’s breakfast.
This wolf had died in fear and pain and she hadn’t been here to help.
She hadn’t been able to help so many of her children on Terra, too. The mortal humans had shot them from planes, poisoned them, hunted them near to extinction. They had been saved from that fate only by dint of constant fighting, fighting by Silva herself and her one or two human followers, mortals who knew about her existence, who wanted to help save her children, who themselves often lived with wolf-hybrids. Silva had petitioned the Twins to save her cubs: they finally listened and moved all the wolves off-planet. She doubted they would ever have done so, had it not been for the strengthening arguments of a few other gods who had a soft spot for wolves. The Morrigan, Hecate, and Odin were the big three who had argued on Silva’s side. Had she ever properly expressed her gratitude to those deities?
On Tau Ceti, the wolves had been placed far enough away from human settlements to be relatively safe. But when human populations expanded, as they invariably did, would that safety eke away?
If she never got home, the Cetian wolves might meet the same fate. And this time she wouldn’t be around to stop them from going extinct completely.
She shook with helplessness and fear. There was nothing she could do. She was trapped here in mortal form, and her children might all die. The thought made her sick again.
When finally she exited the bathroom, after having rinsed her mouth thoroughly, she felt scrubbed out, hollowed, empty. A gourd left in the rain after All Hallows Eve; burned on the inside, destined for the compost heap to rot away in ignominy.
She tried to hide her distress when she got back to the table. Their food had arrived by that point and a man she’d never seen before stood beside the table and chatted with Scoas and Natai, occasionally giving Brinna a predatory smile. Brinna seemed less than pleased with the man’s attentions but she was unfailingly polite.
Silva instantly disliked the man. He smelled wrong and his bearing positively screamed his arrogance.
Scoas noticed Silva’s return and made introductions before Silva could escape.
The man’s name was Kaz; he gave Silva an exceptionally oily smile. He was a hunter — the best in Heartpin, apparently. “You must have seen my prize trophy,” he said to her, folding his arms over his chest. Silva politely raised her eyebrows even as her stomach churned with dread. “The wolf’s head hanging in the privy. Got that bastard over a year ago. Scoas bought the pelt.”
Silva felt like fainting. She barely heard what Scoas said: “It’s a very nice pelt, too; we simply love it.”
“There’s a secret to get the best pelts, Scoas my man,” Kaz said, winking at the farmer. “Would you like to know it?”
“Excuse me,” Silva said, brushing past Kaz and heading for the door. She knew the secret for the best pelts and if she heard Kaz tell them exactly how he’d tortured the young wolf whose head hung in the bathroom, she might kill him right there in the tavern.
“Cait, where are you going?” Brinna’s voice forced Silva to stop and turn, to give them an answer that wouldn’t worry them.
“I’m feeling a bit lightheaded; I think it’s too stuffy in here. I’m going outside for some air.” She moved her lips into what she hoped was a smile.
Kaz’s look at her was concern and…ugh. She smelled lust rising from him like swamp gas. He wanted to mate with her. And with Brinna, to judge by the way he looked at the younger woman. For some reason, his attraction to Brinna made Silva’s hackles rise more than anything else.
“Would you like me to come with you?” he asked Silva. His tone was possessive, predatory; it confirmed what she’d smelled.
“No. Thank you, but no.” She hoped her smile was polite enough; she was thinking about ripping his throat out. “I’m fine on my own.”
She turned and left the tavern before she did something she would regret.
Her body wanted her to vomit again but her stomach was completely empty. Her hearts beat too fast, she felt dizzy and too hot. She stumbled down the street in the cold air, not knowing where she was going nor caring very much, if at all.
A strong hand grabbed her elbow and before she could protest she was being gently but firmly guided in the direction of some benches outside a building a few down the road from the tavern. She looked to her right to see her assailant; seeing nothing, she looked down.
It was Enendoa, the wise woman. Silva instantly relaxed. Enendoa smelled good and Silva had trusted her since the woman’s visit after the awakening from her three-day coma.
She sat Silva down on a bench and stood in front of her, checking her forehead with the back of a weathered hand.
“No fever but you’re definitely warm. And not feeling well, if that look is any indication. Mind telling me what you’re doing in town all alone?” Her voice was stern, but kind.
Silva gestured towards the tavern. “They’re all inside. I needed…air.”
Enendoa huffed with laughter. “Now that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.” She looked down the road in the direction of the tavern. Silva followed her gaze. Kaz the hunter was just exiting the building and swaggering away. Silva fought a fresh wave of nausea. “Ahhh,” Enendoa said, looking at Silva’s face. “You met Kaz. Dislike him, I take it?” Silva nodded, her hand over her mouth. “Well, you’re not alone. That boy has been an arrogant little prick since he could talk.”
Silva’s eyes widened a bit. That was certainly the strongest language she’d ever heard anyone in Min use. Enendoa smirked at her reaction. “Don’t repeat that, however. I’m old and can say whatever the hells I want. You are new and Kaz has connections. Keep your nose clean; stay polite.”
“I planned on it. Thank you, Enendoa.” Silva gave the other woman a weak smile.
Enendoa brushed off her gratitude briskly. “You need to get back, before Scoas and Natai worry too much about you. Go on, now.” She shooed Silva away with her old, capable hands. Obediently Silva rose and began to head back.
“Stranger,” Enendoa called, a moment later. Silva hadn’t gone three steps. She turned and raised her eyebrows. “Come see me tomorrow, after breakfast. That’s not a request.” Enendoa gave her a sharp glare. Silva nodded meekly and headed back to the tavern.
When she sat back down next to Brinna, Silva was suddenly starving. Her mutton was cool but she didn’t care and tucked in gratefully. She told her family that she’d just run into Enendoa, who had pronounced her healthy — it was probably just fatigue. Four sighs of relief answered this statement.
“She wants me to visit her tomorrow. Can someone show me the way?” She said it casually enough, but everyone exchanged meaningful glances before an answer was given.
“I can take you,” Brinna said at length and the rest of the meal was passed in silence.
Silva found herself wondering about what the family had not said.
The next day dawned as clear and bright as the day before. Silva noted a sense of festivity in the house. The family seemed to be getting ready for something: the house had been scrubbed clean and swept out, garlands of holly and pine had been hung on the walls, Natai had brought in several bushels of apples from the cellar and was proceeding to make several different things with them. The smell of cider, pie, and applesauce drifted through the house and Natai and Brinna hummed and sang while they worked. Every few hummed verses they would break into the same chorus of a song and then go back to humming joyfully.
Silva guessed a holiday was coming up soon.
After breakfast Brinna and Silva put on their outdoor clothes and snowshoes and headed out across the fields towards Enendoa’s house. The fields were not completely flat but relieved by small hills and dells. They passed other farmhouses on their way and Brinna pointed out who lived in each one. “That’s the Manysse’s farm; their daughter is the blacksmith in town,” or “That’s the home of the Olmsteads; I heard their son went to Daetus City to learn to be a doctor.” People working outside waved cheerfully to Brinna and shouted out, “Peace be upon you!” Brinna always replied, “The blessings of Fitry in your life!”
This was outside the norm of morning greetings, in Silva’s limited experience. She asked Brinna about it after the third instance.
“Oh, I forgot — you don’t know about Shoron!”
Silva’s blank stare was enough confirmation. Brinna spent the rest of the walk to Enendoa’s explaining.
Shoron was a holiday held the full moon closest to the shortest day of the year, which had happened the day before. Silva hadn’t even noticed but then, all the days seemed very short here. The full moon would show in another nine days; so most families were now getting ready for Shoron celebrations.
The dates of Shoron varied widely. Silva asked about the moon cycle and was astounded to learn it was roughly ninety-six days between full moons, far longer than the moon cycles on either Terra or Tau Ceti.
Shoron focused on family, faith, and small gifts given out of love. Many families in Heartpin would spend these ten days getting ready for the holiday and on the day of they would all file into the Temple for a sermon from the priest. Fitry, the goddess of daylight and abundance, was honoured. Great feasting happened on the evening of Shoron and then family members would exchange gifts. During the ten days before Shoron, it was customary to wish peace and abundance on your fellow Minae.
“It sounds lovely. I hope I can help prepare for it,” Silva said to Brinna when she finished explaining.
Brinna’s face darkened as blood rushed to it. “We’ll be very pleased to have your presence.” She smiled at Silva and the two women shared a moment of happy, giddy silence.
They’d reached Enendoa’s house now and conversation ended. Enendoa lived on the edge of Steelmint Forest in a two-story cottage. Smoke billowed out of the chimney and the house had two windows upstairs and two downstairs, an obvious mark of wealth.
A fence went around a front and back yard and as they walked through the gate Silva caught the scent of fresh herbs and rotting vegetables. The smell of rot was stronger. She guessed there was a vegetable garden buried under the snow. The herbs were obviously still alive and most likely in the back yard. She wondered how Enendoa had kept herbs alive in the cold.
Silva expected Brinna to go up to the front door and knock but instead she went around the side of the house, towards the back. As they rounded the corner, Silva saw she’d guessed correctly: a herb garden took up most of the back yard. There was another gate in the fence, leading towards the forest. The herbs were vibrant and healthy and not a flake of snow rested on them.
It seemed like magic.
Instead of using the bright red front door, Brinna walked up to the plain wooden back door and knocked three times. A few moments later the door swung inward, revealing the short and stout wise woman.
She smiled up at them. “Hello, Brinna dear. Would you like to come in and warm yourself with a cup of tea?”
“I would love that; very much. Thank you, ma’am.”
Enendoa ushered them in, Brinna entering the house first. The wise woman gave a conspiratorial wink to Silva, who didn’t understand. She just smiled.
The back door opened into the kitchen, all blond wood and copper pans. There was a lot of copper in the house, from what Silva could see. It glinted on almost every wall.
Enendoa had a hearthfire and a woodstove in this room; over the fire a cast-iron kettle hung, steam whistling out of the spout. Enendoa wrapped her hand in a thick towel and lifted the kettle from its spot over the fire, placing it on a metal trivet on the counter. She produced a tea pot from the cupboard and three mugs. Into the tea pot she put some loose leaf tea and then, picking up the kettle with the towel again, boiling water.
“That needs to steep for a few minutes,” she said, putting the lid back on the tea pot. “How are your Shoron preparations going?” The question was directed at Brinna and the young woman spoke avidly about all the things they were doing to get ready for the holiday. Silva listened with one ear but her eyes were focused on Enendoa’s house.
The hearthfire was not open and in the center of the room, as Natai’s was but in a fireplace lined with grey shale rock. The kettle hung on a hook on the edge of the mantle, placing it within reach of the fire’s heat but far enough away so one could grab it. On top of the mantle lived an odd collection of items: a bundle of what looked like grass, some stones, a small copper statue to what Silva assumed was another Minae deity, a candle, and various animal parts. She could positively identify both a raven’s feather and a raven’s claw. To identify the bones, however, she needed to get closer.
She sincerely hoped they were not wolf.
Brinna and she sat on stools at a counter that rested in the center of the kitchen—an island, she thought it was called. Above the other counter, against the opposite wall, a rack with hooks displayed various copper cooking implements. The woodstove was next to this counter, on Silva’s left, and the hearthfire was set in the wall opposite the back door. To the left of the fireplace, a doorway led to what Silva assumed was the front room of the house. Behind her stood a dining room table, scarred with age, and stairs angled up. A window rested in the wall to the right of the door, making the room very bright.
The walls were all wooden, darkened with age or perhaps some sort of stain. She could smell the age of the house — it had to be a hundred years old at least. It must have belonged to the previous wise woman. If she understood how that post worked, the current wise woman would train up an apprentice, leaving all to her when death came.
Sudden clarity hit Silva on the nose. Was that why Enendoa had asked her here? Was she thinking Silva should be her new apprentice?
Was that what J’th had meant when she’d said Silva’s journey would be long and difficult?
She noticed Enendoa was giving her a shrewd look and wondered how much her realization had shown on her face. The wise woman said nothing, however; she simply poured the three mugs of tea and distributed them.
Silva and Brinna expressed their thanks for the beverage. Silva pulled off her mitts and placed her hands on the warm mug, bringing feeling back into her frozen fingers. Woods, this body became cold far too easily. She wished that would change.
Brinna and Enendoa continued to chat over tea; Silva did not have much to contribute to the conversation, so she listened politely. Their conversation led her to deduce that Shoron was the biggest holiday of the year. Certainly, it was the one that was celebrated by everyone.
Brinna was excited about it. She looked forward to it every year and it was her favorite. She glanced over at Silva a few times while saying this, looking shy and somewhat embarrassed. Silva didn’t understand but then, she didn’t understand a lot of humanoid behaviour.
Soon Brinna had finished her tea. “When do you want me to return to fetch you?”
Silva was surprised at first but then realized that Enendoa had probably been sending Brinna subtle signals in the form of body language or tone, behaviour Silva found hard to read. Scent was so much clearer. Equally clear was Wolf: she found it difficult to read subtleties in any other language. If she was correct about why Enendoa wanted her there in the first place, obviously the wise woman would want some time alone with her.
She could have found her way back to the farmstead without any problems, now that she’d been along the route once. She had the smell and look of the trail. She didn’t say this, however. It would probably be safer to have Brinna lead her back, as she didn’t fully trust the capabilities of her new body and was as awkward and gangly as a pup after a growth spurt. Also, the thought of Brinna walking with her again made a strange, warm, tingly feeling spread out through her limbs.
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, looking at Enendoa quizzically. It was the wise woman’s call.
“Come back round dinnertime, Brinna dear. Just after; I can feed your friend for a few meals.” The older woman smiled. Brinna said her farewell to Silva, thanked Enendoa for her hospitality, and then stepped out the back door again.
Suddenly alone with the wise woman, Silva didn’t know how to feel. Part of her felt relief, as if she could finally be herself. The other part of her worried that Enendoa really did want her to be the next wise woman. She wasn’t sure she was cut out for that.
“So,” Enendoa said, looking at Silva with twinkling eyes, “Alaev told me you fell out of the heavens.”
“Yes.” The word was out of Silva’s mouth before she knew she planned on saying it. Something in her bones urged her to tell Enendoa the truth; something told her the wise woman would be able to help her.
Enendoa nodded, as if she’d already known the truth. “So you’re not of this world. Are you a god or a demon?”
“Neither. I’m mortal.” Now.
Enendoa was giving Silva a look that many dams gave their pups. She tried not to fidget under the wise woman’s steady gaze that said “You are so full of it, little fur.”
The wise woman said nothing and walked to the other end of her kitchen. She reached into a cupboard and pulled something out, covering it with her hands. Silva instantly caught the scent of mint.
“What am I holding?”
Silva answered Enendoa promptly, and the wise woman laughed. “Mortal, my ass. You’re a witch.”
She flinched at the word. Not that she herself had ever seen witches as bad — they seemed to number greatly among the followers of various deities she liked — but she was in a new world where humans hated wolves. What were the odds they hated witches, too? Both beings were wild as virgin forests; often, where one was misunderstood, so was the other.
“What makes you say that?” She tried to sound casual but her voice came out a terrified whisper.
Enendoa placed the mint on the counter and came to stand directly in front of Silva. The wolf-woman clamped down the urge to run. She trusted Enendoa, sure…but how could she trust her own senses in this new, traitorous body?
“The people here call me a wise woman because they’re afraid of what I really am. They respect it, and they respect the laws of the witch but as long as I’m not named truly, they can pretend I’m not what I am.
“We don’t choose our successors at random. We only choose those with a witch’s heart.”
“So you did bring me here as your choice of successor.” Silva didn’t bother explaining she had a wolf’s heart, not a witch’s.
“Perhaps.” Enendoa’s voice had turned stern. “Come with me, young pup. I have something for you to read.”
Obediently, Silva got up and followed Enendoa through the doorway to the front room of the house, smiling to herself at Enendoa’s choice of words.
The front room was full of books. Wall to wall, it was lined with bookcases, each one packed to overflowing with large tomes bound with old leather. Even the front door was covered with a bookcase, which explained their earlier entry through the back. Bookcases surrounded the windows and books were stuffed into every possible corner. Two large chairs sat in the room, with a table beside each. The chairs were leather and wood, and very old.
“You obviously enjoy reading,” Silva mused, in awe at the sheer amount of knowledge in the room around her. She thought the people of Min likely did not spend a lot of time reading. They were always so busy with other things.
“This is the library of my predecessor, and of hers before, and hers before, going back to when we first had a resident witch in Heartpin.” Enendoa was looking through the shelves, obviously in search of a particular book.
Some of these books looked centuries old. “How long ago was that? And how do you keep the books in good condition?”
“Ah! Here it is.” Enendoa pulled a tome of daunting size from the bottom shelf and blew the dust off the cover. “Sit down.” She patted the chair by her. When Silva had sat down, Enendoa placed the large book in her lap. “Read through that. And to answer your questions, centuries, and that’s a secret.”
She looked at the book with some dismay. “You want me to read this whole thing?” That could take the rest of her mortal life.
“I want you to read it until it speaks to you. You’ll know when.”
Silva sighed. She was getting tired of the cryptic answers. Between Enendoa and J’th, she felt as if she was at a Council meeting.
But something about Enendoa made her feel like a pup again; something made her want to obey. She had never imagined finding someone who would command such an alpha presence that it would make her capitulate, certainly not a mortal humanoid.
Min became more surprising every day.
She crossed her long legs underneath the book and opened it to the first page. The title was done in flowing script, written in an ink of orange-red colour.
A Grimmerie for my successor
By Thalaea the Forsworn
Silva frowned. On reading the name “Thalaea” she’d felt a tug in her belly. Intrigued, she read on.
Be this the true and factual account of my flight from Broomgap, to settle to a new life in Min. I have commissioned a cottage be built on the edge of Steelmint Forest so I may be close to the wolves.
Silva’s breathing quickened and she read closer.
There are thirteen large packs in the vast forest. They, much like the Broomgap wolves, have lost faith. But they are many, and friendly, and determined to keep good relations with the newcomers to our island.
I am just northwest of Landfall, the newcomers’ town. The Minae, as they call themselves, are friendly, generous folk, happy to trade with witches and wolves alike.
I think my life here will be safer than it was in Thaen.
Northwest of Landfall? Where on earth was that? There was no town nearby called Landfall, and this cottage was southeast of Heartpin. She flipped through the pages of the book, trying to find a map.
She found several at the back, all hand-drawn and lettered in the same flowing handwriting as the rest of the book. The first depicted Steelmint Forest stretching from the river to the coast, taking up the entire southeast quadrant of the island. According to her geography lessons from Brinna and what she’d witnessed herself, that was sorely different from now.
There were none of the towns she knew of on the map. The land that held Heartpin Town, Solai Parish, and Fallwoman Shire was all forest, and apparently under the rule of Thaen. On this map, that country’s borders stretched to the river.
She flipped to the next map. Steelmint Forest no longer reached to the coast, and now there were new towns in the southeast of the island: Caegdeer and Daetus City. The notes at the bottom chilled her.
Twenty-two years after landfall. Remaining wolf packs: seven.
Of course there could be other reasons for packs to die off or leave the forest, but she knew in her bones it had to do with the arrival of the Minae. Something had happened in Minae’s long history that had soured them towards wolves and witches alike.
Silva flipped back to the beginning of the book and started to read again.
I have discovered many different herbs in Steelmint Forest. Broomgap had its own collection of interesting plants that could heal the body. Steelmint is much different — where Broomgap was green and coniferous, Steelmint has more of an explosion of colour. There are trees here that shed in fall and die for the winter alongside the trees that retain their green coats all year long. And, of course, the forest is full of Steelmint — it grows in such abundance I doubt it will ever disappear.
Thalaea went on to document all the plants found in the forest, complete with drawings and extensive notes on their uses and functions. Silva found herself knowing what a plant would do just from looking at the picture and reading the notes as if they were simply confirming what she knew was true. She wondered if Enendoa was right. Maybe she did have a witch’s heart.
After fifteen years of peaceful coexistence between wolves and Minae, Thalaea started to notice a disturbing trend among the Minae. They were breaking treaty agreements with the wolves in the forest, and encroaching on the wolves’ hunting grounds. The wolves were asking the Minae to respect their territories, because they needed to eat, and the Minae continually ignored them.
Thalaea tried to mediate the dispute, to no avail. War started between the wolves of Steelmint and the Minae newcomers. Soon, Thaen joined the fray.
Years of war raged on and the wolves were slaughtered. Thalaea watched from afar, spending most of her time away from her cottage, hiding in various places around the countryside. For reasons she never explained, she feared the reinforcements from Thaen as much as she feared the Minae, even though the Thaenites rode to help the wolves she cared for so much.
Min won the war, in the end. It lasted seven years and at the end the boundaries of the world changed; Thaen was no longer in charge of the land between the mountains and the river. Min now controlled everything from the southern coast to the northern mountains, all the way west to the borders of Gssn.
Thalaea’s last entry was dated after the end of the war. She spoke of finishing it, and that whosoever would find her book, she named her successor.
She signed it Thalaea, Lady of the True Woods.
Silva felt a chill go through her.
How could a mortal witch from Thaen be the Lady of the True Woods? Was she another deity who had lost her godhood? Even if that were true…Silva was the only Lady of the True Woods. She would have known if there were another.
She glared at the book in frustration. What did any of this mean?
“Thalaea.”
It was like a blow to her hearts. She reverberated with the sound of the word; it flowed through her, tasting as true as sunlight.
Thalaea. Her True Name.
She looked up. Enendoa stood, arms folded in front of her chest, looking at the Lady of the True Woods.
“It means forest, so far as I know.”
Thalaea stared at the witch bemusedly. Didn’t the woman realize she’d just Named a goddess?
“She was the first of us. Her successor found that book in Steelmint Forest, and had this cottage built. The first cottage was destroyed in an earthquake.”
Enendoa didn’t realize. She was still talking about the centuries-old witch and the long line of witches after her. The ex-goddess shook her head in wonder.
“Do you think I could take that name? I don’t remember my original, and Thalaea feels right.” A shiver went through her body as she spoke the syllables of her True Name and she knew that no matter what Enendoa said, Thalaea would be her name forever.
The witch smiled shrewdly. “I had a feeling you would ask that. Now. It’s far past lunch time and the sun is setting. I should feed you, or Brinna will never forgive me.”
Thalaea looked through the window and saw the sky was streaked with deep purples, blues, and reds across the violet. She’d spent hours sitting and reading that book and hadn’t even noticed the time she’d spent.
She closed the book reverently and set it on the table beside her. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked, standing and jiggling her legs to get feeling back in them.
“That’s the attitude I want to see.” Enendoa grinned. “Come on. I’ll teach you how to cook a steak.”
With a smile, Thalaea followed Enendoa into the kitchen. Her entire body felt right, now. Three hearts beat the way they should; her bones were no longer so heavy. She was not cold any more; her body regulated its temperature as it should. Each breath was a pleasure and each movement made her feel grateful.
She was Thalaea now, and she was a witch. The truth sang to her blood and made the entire world right.
When Brinna arrived to pick her up, she felt like dancing with the younger woman. She settled for a long, lingering hug, and a dazzling smile.
“I found my Name,” she whispered to Brinna, suddenly realizing what her strange feelings for the woman had been. Silva had not been mortal and mortal feelings had not been for her. Thalaea was mortal — and she was overjoyed to find she was falling in love with Scoas’ daughter.
Brinna smiled and laughed, and hugged Thalaea again. “That’s wonderful!” Thalaea reveled in the sensation of Brinna in her arms. She breathed in the young woman’s scent deeply. She could smell the answering feelings in Brinna’s pheromones. Suddenly her future in Min looked shiny and bright.
With joy, Thalaea settled down to her mortal life.