Through the years, there had been scant references to the woman who had birthed Katrin. She barely remembered anything before her life with Gunilla, though occasionally, a sense of innocent joy and warm loving embraces came to her. A long time ago, Katrin had stopped asking about her mother or life before joining Gunilla, learning early on the woman would not answer any meaningful questions. The desire to learn of her past had long since fallen away from Katrin's life's goals.
Now, the need to know exploded powerfully into her consciousness. Her childhood years with this woman had been mostly enjoyable and she had been young enough to accept her new life without question. It was only when she grew older and began to understand the truth of her mistress' gifts, or rather, thedisappearance of them, that she had begun to imagine a life without Gunilla. The older seeress was the only mother she had ever known and the only remaining link to Katrin's real mother.
"Tell me about her."
Gunilla smiled. The familiar sense of comfort and safety rushed through Katrin's veins. She realized it had been some time since Gunilla had looked upon her with such affection. Another query to add to all the rest.
"She loved you and after four sons, was thrilled to finally have a daughter."
"I have brothers?" The idea of more family left Katrin more bewildered than ever.
Gunilla nodded. "You do. You did. They are lost to you now. As is your mother."
A chilling ache encased her heart, before it slammed against her ribs. "Tell me."
"Your father was a powerful chieftain, but he betrayed his jarl."
Katrin's gut knotted. She almost didn't want to know any more, afraid of the pain that might accompany the knowledge, but the need to learn the truth of her birth overpowered the sentiment.
"Go on, please."
"Your mother knew you had a gift, you were just learning to talk and you would tell her about…"
The pause roused irritated frustration. "About what?"
Gunilla heaved a deep breath. "You said you looked in your father's eyes and saw him die. Two days later, he did, exactly as you told your mother. Knowing the jarl was coming for them, and knowing you had a gift that might be your only chance at survival, she gave you to me, with instructions that I leave the village at once. And I did."
Katrin remained silent for several moments, a thousand questions forming and eluding her at the same time. Finally, one rose stronger than the rest.
"Did they come for them?"
Gunilla hesitated for the briefest of moments then nodded. "By then, you and I had left, my retinue ready with our boats during a moonless night."
Just like the times they left villages in the last few years. Was that the first occasion Gunilla had fled under cover of darkness? Another more pressing need for answers arose.
"Did the jarl… are they… dead?"
Gunilla hesitated again, but her eyes told Katrin all she needed to know, without a vision. The older woman squeezed her hands.
"Word reached me two summers later. Your brothers fought valiantly to protect your mother, but in the end, they all fell."
The silver-haired woman lowered her head. Bombarded by so many riotous thoughts, Katrin found herself unable to voice the many uncertainties tumbling over each other. After several moments, Gunilla once more met her gaze.
"I am thankful I was given the gift of being able to claim you as my own. Surely you know that."
Still numb with shock, Katrin nodded. A jagged lump remained in her throat but she barely noticed. She studied the woman who had raised, taught and guided her for so many years. Suddenly, Gunilla seemed a stranger. Why? Because Katrin finally learned the truth about her origins? While some doubt about the tale lingered in the back of her thoughts, suspecting Gunilla omitted some important details, Katrin knew the older witch was truthful about claiming her as daughter. One thing Katrin had learned more than anything else over the years had been knowing when Gunilla lied, her gift irrelevant. The woman knew that and rarely attempted it with Katrin. She suddenly realized believing any fabrications her mistress shared had been a way of protecting herself. Recollections of how the older woman had turned on any who dared doubt her word floated through her confounded thoughts.
Maybe it was time to stop passively accepting what Gunilla did and did not do, and seek the truth herself, no matter how painful it might be. She'd not given that idea much thought before, but this information, combined with her recent suspicions, might prove vital to her success when she went out on her own.
But now, after arriving in Grindafell, Katrin realized her objectives had changed, though she wasn't exactly sure how. Perhaps it was her recent visions, perhaps it was the underlying suspicion of something darker in Gunilla's intentions. Her mistress' demeanor had been unusually agitated upon their arrival. Why? Katrin suspected the reason would likely not reflect well on Gunilla.
"You must go now." The older woman pressed a carved rune stone into Katrin's hand. "This will protect you, and prevent him from stealing your gift. Use your time with him wisely and learn all you can that will ensure our safety."
Uneasiness tempered Katrin's previous anticipation to be away from the longhouse and village, from Gunilla, knowing it meant being alone with a man who left her senses upended and her knowledge of herself in disarray. She looked at the stone in her palm, adorned with theAlgiz, known to protect one about to embark on a dangerous path. Certainly she was on the verge of such a journey, not only the trek to Hradi's home, but one that might change the course of her life.
"Thank you," she said, drawing Gunilla close so she could kiss her cheek. "I will be back tomorrow and we will meet daily."
The silver-haired woman nodded and Katrin noted a strange glimmer in her mistress' eyes. Tears again? She'd never seen Gunilla cry before, and in the span of a few moments, had now seen her struggle to contain herself twice. The sight roused a responding sting in her own eyes. She quickly turned away, clutching her satchel close to her chest, the rune stone squeezed tightly in her fist. She didn't look back when she left the hut.
