She didn’t dare bring up their mother, the wayshehad given up on them all too. That nagging little voice reminded her that their mother had left because of her, but Hadima didn’t need to know that.
Hadima spun around, cheeks wet. “That’s rich coming from you, who has all but abandoned this family. Don’t judge us for making the best decisions we can for ourselves. Willyoufind the metal well? No? Then back off.”
Iryana felt her sister’s words like arrows right to the chest. She shouldn’t have come. This is what happened.
Chapter Six
Hadima turned back around, shoulders shaking, and Iryana knew those tears were her fault. She was poison to the family, an invasive weed that should have been ripped out long ago. As much for their sake as for her own. But she was too weak. She tried to keep as much distance as she could, keep them safe, but she wasn’t strong enough to leave them altogether. They were what she woke up for every day.
She couldn’t comfort her own sister, couldn’t wrap her arms around her and say everything would be all right. Couldn’t give Hadima the strength to keep fighting. She would only make things worse.
Pressure closed in around her, but Iryana tried to calm the panic, to take control and quiet her mind. She took a deep breath, shoving the fears and emotions into a chest and locking it tight. They wouldn’t help anyway.
The Kleesolds needed a win, something to lift their spirits so they were ready to fight again. Something to give them hope. Hadima couldnotgive up.
Iryana looked at the empty jars again. What Hadima needed was beyond the wall. Iryana had never obeyed grandmother’s rules not to venture out alone, soshe knew the lower valley almost as well as the Kleesold’s valley. She had probably spent more time outside the wall than anyone else in her family.
She could find what Hadima needed for Uncle Byorsh and no one had to know it was her.
It was a clear night when Iryana snuck out of the village, climbing down the steep cliff that led to the lower valley. It always made her heart flutter as the rocks always dug into her palms and it was a rare trip that her feet didn’t slip once or twice. It seemed inevitable that she would eventually fall, but she didn’t let herself worry about that.
Once on solid ground—as solid as six inches of mud could be—Iryana pushed her magic out, the hazy white power surrounding her like a dome. Focusing, she pulled the magic back toward her body, letting it trace her skin, blocking her scent. It wasn’t airtight, but it would help.
She commonly ran into dakii in the lower valley, but they were mostly out during the day. Iryana wasn’t sure if it was the way they preferred, or if they had adapted to more easily hunt their prey. Regardless, both the day and the night held their own challenges.
The rare dakya that scouted at night would be silent, slipping between the shadows as it monitored its territory. She was likely to be noticed before she was even aware of the threat.
The irony that she found that far less scary than being around her family was proof of how damaged she was. She didn’t fear the woods, not like many did. She just respected their ability to kill her, as any reasonable person would.
Iryana hadn’t had the time to dye more scarves dark yet, so she wore a thick woolen cloak with the hood pulled over her loose braids. She pulled that hood a little tighter against the still-freezing evening air, helping her to blend in and fight off the chill. Her bow and quiver were slung across her back, and her knife was sheathed and tucked into her belt.
She couldn’t let those on guard in the watchtower see her—the forbidden trip would be reported immediately. But the forest was just shades of charcoal and black in the night, and she knew how to cling to the shadows.
Slipping between the trees, Iryana considered her plan. Based on what Hadima had said, pain and infection were her biggest worries.
Hadima had forged her magic into an assortment of water-forgings: a mortar and pestle, needles, and small surgical tools. They would enhance the healing properties of any medicine she made, speed the healing of any wound she stitched. Still, she could do little with her forgings on their own. A forged-needle was nothing until she took thread and sewed a wound shut with it, and a forged-mortar and pestle was no help without the right materials to grind. She could not conjure healing, only enhance it.
Before Hadima had been chosen to be trained as a guardian healer, their mother had taught them both which plants did what and where to find them. They had spent countless hours foraging through the lower valley back when the dakii rarely came so far into the highlands.
She could remember baby Misha strapped to their mother’s back while Iryana and Hadima trailed along, clinging to every word. Little Misha wouldn’t remember any of it, she was so young when their mother left them.
Stop. Iryana shook the memories away and forced herself to focus.
Spring growth hadn’t begun yet, and even the mud still froze at night. Finding useful plants for Hadima would be… difficult. But beneath the protective layer of snow, there would be some dormant plants waiting for the sun to wake them up again. She just had to know exactly where to look.
It wasn’t far to where she knew Ivan’s Wort and Lady’s Mantle grew, but they wouldn’t be as effective, and she wasn’t sure they would be in a condition to harvest enough of the leaves and stems for Hadima’s needs. But Iryana knew a stream that fed into the Yuresh River where there was usually a decent amount of cudweed growing, which would be far more effective. The flat, tight rosette of leaves that cudweed overwintered as would work well enough for poultices.
The cudweed would be much further than the others, and she debated whether the risk would be worth it. But ultimately she decided it was one of the few ways she could actually help, so she couldn’t justify taking the easy way.
Iryana found her preferred trail, now mostly frozen mud, and began the long walk. The gaps in the trees allowed more of the snow to melt during the day, just to harden again at night. The path was slick and prone to randomly giving way, her boots sinking down into muck. But it was at least more walkable than trudging through feet of snow or mud. Still, she wished she could run the path instead, though she was grateful for the increased awareness she had at her slower speed. Her woven bag was slung across her body so her hands were free to catch herself or grab her bow if needed.
It was dakii territory after all. Each softhooof an eagle-owl and rustle from a musk deer or flying squirrel made her muscles tense. With the Mud Moon, more and more animals were emerging from their hibernation.
Then a scream in the distance sent a shiver down Iryana’s spine. The scream wasn’t from a dakya; the long wail came from a lynx. It was a good sign—though the goosebumps along her arms didn’t fade for a long while.
Since the dakii had appeared, large predators that used to rule the more wild corners of Istri were rare. There was a bigger predator now, and while the dakii preferred to hunt people, they didn’t seem opposed to tigers or bears or lynx. A lynx in the area likely meant no dakii.
Still, by the time she reached the two entwined trees she’d been aiming for, hours of walking later, Iryana’s nerves were pulled tight.
