Mitchell Smith - Moonrise

"He did tell me those sorts of things," Nancy said. "He tried to teach me all of them."

"I'm sure he has," Patience said, "though was slow to remember a few himself, when he faced me… And poorly you've learned, Nancy. I've seen women cleaning fish with more skill than you show, girl, and much more sensible temper." She started toward the fire, then turned back. "What stands across from you when you fight, is life or death – and no person at all to be loved or hated. Learn that, or bite the dirt with your guts spilled out."

… Later, when Baj and Nancy both slept – Errol as usual curled against Baj's back – the moon had risen to its cloudy height, and a cold wind sighed from the north, mentioning distant thunder. Richard and Patience, wrapped in cloak and coat by the fire-pit's ashes, conversed quietly about Boston-town, which Richard had seen only once, years before – allowed the visit as aide to a colonel of the Guard. They recalled its gates, its many-streets and passageways… and the so-slow changes in its buildings, its cathedrals and courtyards, as the weight of their ice deformed them – to then be re-carved, rounded or angled, and new wall-blocks with altered key-blocks added, so each generation discovered a slightly different gleaming Boston, sculpted as their city.

They discussed that – and the Guard's Wolf-General, Sylvia, who'd once been Richard's commander, before his transfer and desertion… Then, tired of talking, they sat silent beneath a cloud-streaked jewelry of stars glittering the cold night across, and kept to their own thoughts until Patience said, "They're both still so young. Too young to suffer what must be done."

"Sad," Richard said, "- but true." A phrase legacy from Warm-times, and almost always appropriate.

Dawn greeted with a rumbling crash and roar.

Baj sat up from his blanket's folds, was struck with the first of hard slanting rain, and drenched.

They all stood from coat, cloaks, or blankets, and trotted with their possibles and packs to the poor shelter of the evergreens, which whipped and bowed to the storm's wet winds, stroking them with soaking branches.

Errol, burrowing at Baj's side, was making shrill piping noises – shriller when lightning cracked past overhead, and another great door of thunder slammed shut.

Richard, fur-tufts sopped and drooping, ducked as lightning flared all a brilliant white – and thunder came smashing after it. Baj saw, in an echo of the eye, Nancy crouched wincing at her pack, teeth bared in fear as lightning came sizzling near, flashed down past the camp and cracked among the trees… He saw that, and as the glare faded, noticed Patience standing back, white hair plastered as the rain came down, watching him.

As though, in that moment, he'd seen his Second-mother looking through those black eyes, Baj, keeping Errol with him, went to the girl as wind came whistling… knelt beside and put his arm and a fold of cloak around her. She turned as if to bite him… but didn't, and the three of them huddled close.

The storm grew more savage, striking near them with bolts that blazed into the mountain, thunder peals that shook it. Then sweeps and sweeps of blowing rain… that as dawn lightened slightly to morning, could be seen marching as a shouting army in dark rank on rank across the mountains.

Nancy, fine red rooster-comb of hair soaked black, trembled at Baj's side. "Too loud," she said… The wind brought the white smell of water with it, and the smell of stone and grass from the mountain balds. Brought also an odd hint of burning – perhaps from fires the lightning set, too fierce for the rain to drown… The storm slowly eased to gusts and spattering dashes, the thunder gone trundling south, then eased again to puddled calm under cool and watery light. They all stood, shook water from drenched clothes, and Patience, stripping rain from her white hair, said, "Lord Winter wakes in the north, and clears his throat."

Dripping in the chill of damp breezes, they shouldered wet packs, and Baj his bow and quiver, the arrow-fletching too wet for use. Errol, recovered, scuttled away ahead, and Patience and Baj drew steel as they went, to whip the weapons through drying air, flicking wet from shining blades. Nancy watched, unsheathed her own, and the three of them squelched over soaked summer grass and rain-slick rock, duelling the wind while Richard marched behind, not troubling to swing raindrops from his ax.

Above, a gray sky slowly became streaky blue, with the clouds called horsetails bannering away south.

The breeze that dried their swords brought more and more the stink of damp burning with it… so by sun-straight-up, as they clambered down a steep defile thick with yellow birch – Patience grumbling as she managed, ground-walking beside them – Nancy said, "Serious burning."

"Stop, then," Patience said, blowing out a tired breath. "Stop a moment." And they rested leaning against slender birches.

Richard raised his head and sniffed the air. "Forest is too wet to burn."

Patience sighed. "Then something burned before the rain. I'm weary of stomping and stepping, anyway." She bent her head as if she prayed to these mountains' Jesus… then slowly tilted forward as if about to fall. But the fall never came. Instead, she eased out that way, leaning in the air as if on the air, and Baj saw her small moccasin-boots just off the ground.

It had seemed to him before, that the Boston-woman rose in a single almost swinging way to Walk-in-air, but now, watching closely, he saw that wasn't so. It was a rising in gradual bounds, each – timed perhaps to a breath – higher than the one before… until she was no longer what they were, or she had been – but a different creature, white-haired and blue-coated, sailing up through sun-struck birch leaves into the sky.

They all – except for Errol, who was on all fours, sniffing at something at the base of a tree – they all stood watching Patience rise, sitting cross-legged, her scimitar held on her lap. Rise… then drift away to the north.

It still seemed to Baj an amazement, the gift of a Great, and something past the sensible of life… But not quite the miracle it had been. The so-tedious mind, becoming used to it, had turned it almost usual with the curse of accustom, so it might have been that a familiar hunting hawk had flown from his gauntlet with jess-bells ringing… Well, perhaps an eagle.

Nancy raised her red-crested head, sniffed the air. "Meat," she said. "Meat burning with the other burning."

Errol left his interesting tree and pranced a circle around them, making his tongue-click sounds, then trotted away down the mountainside.

Richard shouldered his ax, said, "Now, we go carefully," and strode off along the slope… The mountains' air, after its storm, was fine and clear, so what seemed almost a Warm-time sunshine spangled through the leaves to decorate Baj and Nancy with flowing gold medallions as they hiked down the birches after him.

It appeared the perfect friendly air of a perfect summer afternoon, but its breeze still brought burning with it as they reached the mountain's wide green apron of water meadow refreshed by rain, and Baj took his bow from his shoulder, paused and knelt in high grass to brace it – making an odd shadow – then drew an arrow from his quiver, blew through its feathers to dry them further, and set it to the string as they went on. Damp fletchings… damp string – but fair enough for a short shot.

Nancy had said nothing to him since the storm, but she walked alongside.

There was a low ridge lying across their way, as if a small mountain had begun to wake and rise, then slumped to sleep again. Baj supposed this was the beginning of true lower country – at least for a time – since no succession of green rounded peaks loomed above its pine-furred spine. Lower country… "Thank you," he said aloud, imagining these mountains' Jesus listening from his tree.