Adalina wiped her forehead. The pace had been hard since they ran into the remains of a Lujin scouting party. Her father and Aimar had cleared the bodies from the path quickly but word had reached the back of the line: it was a sleeper attack. What were the Lujin doing out here? Adalina asked herself. They were coast dwellers, at home in the shallows and among the saltleaf trees that grew out into the sea. Were they, too, sensing the upheaval of the world around them and treading new paths?

  The straps of Adalina's pack cut into her shoulders. She tried to bunch the cloth of her shirt underneath them without her mother noticing.

  “I’ll call for a stop. You need to rest.” Winilind put her hands to her mouth and took a deep breath.

  “No!” hissed Adalina. “There are grannies and grandpas coping better than me!”

  Her mother desisted from calling for the rest but she shook her head.

  “We shouldn't be traveling this fast. If the sleepers are going to find us, they’ll find us. Better that we’re not exhausted when we cross paths.” Her mother nodded toward the basket she carried. “You could give that back to Heridan, at least.”

  “I promised him.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Father told me a story, you know.”

  “Did he?” Winilind looked at her with interest.

  “He said you’d tell me the rest.”

  “Oh. Did he?” Her voice dropped and became bitter, and Adalina felt a stab in her chest. She had barely ever heard her parents argue, much less fall out. Her father sometimes bristled at Winilind's fixation with tradition and, likewise, her mother sometimes complained about Luthold's lack of respect for their clan's conventions. But Adalina had never felt that their love for one another might falter. She didn't know how to stop it, or whether it was even her business to try.

  “Must you be so hard on him? He has so much on his shoulders.”

  “He could have less.”

  “Whatever you wanted him to discuss with the elders, you’re keeping it from me too.”

  Winilind rubbed her face. Adalina thought she saw fear in those deep, soft eyes. Her mother's thin lips pursed, and seemed to waver between speaking and staying silent.

  "Mother," Adalina insisted. "Don't treat me like a child. What do the medicine men have to do with our family? I know it's about Oli. Why did you both lie when he described the outsider? You knew it was one of them, didn't you?"

  "Quiet!" her mother hissed. She looked around them. They were walking at the back of the line and no one paid attention. Lien, who walked just ahead, was busy singing rhymes to her baby.

  “So, your father really did tell you a story. Alright."

  She stared at the ground and they listened to the sound of hundreds of pairs of feet, padding two by two along the narrowing path. The trees were taller and closer than before and the dim light came in narrow shafts that pierced the leaves only intermittently. Great, thick trunks loomed beside them like disapproving sentinels that pressed in from either side.

  “It’s not only to do with Oli. It's as much about you, Ada. We’ve been south this way before. How do you think your father knows the path so well?”

  "I've never been this way. I'd remember."

  "You were very small, and you weren't well when we brought you."

  Adalina frowned and picked through her childhood memories as far back as she could. She remembered the first time the village moved and she travelled on her father’s shoulders. But they moved from west to east, not south. She remembered other trips away, learning to lay traps with Elder Joturn, learning plant names and their uses from her mother or Mildred. But they always returned to the clan by nightfall. She had never been on a journey like this.

  “Did Oli come, too? Or was it before him?”

  “Almost before."

  “What does that mean?”

  “You were sick,” stated her mother, ignoring the question. “Do you remember a winter when you could barely eat? When you shivered even beside the fire.”

  "Vaguely. I had stomach poisoning from eating yew berries, didn't I? Elder Mildred said you took me to Scursditch to find an antidote. She was quite bitter about it. I don't really remember the journey, though."

  She had not thought of it in years, but her mother’s words summoned the fragments of a memory. She’d been ill on other occasions, but that time had been different. She remembered the kind looks on her parents’ faces. Too kind. They usually pushed her to get out of bed as soon as possible, but that time they took turns to sit beside her, stroking her hair and face as she drifted in and out of sleep. Then another memory returned to her, from her early childhood. She passed a beautiful comb of bleached bone through her hair. Her blonde hair. She lifted her curling, dark locks before her eyes and her mother watched her.

  "We'd seen the disease a few months before. And we'd seen the cure."

  Adalina thought about her father's story. Of course, some children's hair colour changed over time, but too many other pieces now fell into place.

  “Did I... Did I have...?”

  She looked across at her mother, mouth open. Winilind stared ahead and replied:

  “The Raskan Fever. Yes. We kept you away from Elder Mildred, hoping it was something else and afraid to start the cure if it wasn't. Oh, Ada, I couldn't face it!"

  Tears ran down Winilind's cheeks as she reawakened her memories.

  "Neither could your father. Heridan had used the barrow needles on Lena and she had died anyway. Kuno's parents endured having to torture their own child, brushing his body every night and filling him with poison, then praying as he turned over and cried himself to sleep that the poison would kill the disease before it took his life. He survived, but he was scarred, inside and out. And you didn't have his constitution, not then."

  "Mother, what are you saying? What did you do?" The story was already forming in Adalina's mind, even before her mother told it. She had to hear the details, though, to know that it was true.

  "By then it was forbidden to approach a medicine man, for the safety of everyone in the clan. Besides, most Hallin thought they had all died out. But we knew where there might be one still alive. Your grandpa, Gurithen, broke every taboo before he died. At the start of his famous journey west, he visited the South. A medicine man there showed him the path from the falls to the western border of the forest. According to your grandfather, he was stronger than the others. His mind was healthier and his heart still kind, despite the confusion that plagued him. He approved of Grandpa's travels, and told him that one day Seveners would have to leave the forest. Your father and Grandpa cooked up the secret plan and I... I agreed. You were my little girl, Ada, my only child. In my desperation, I agreed to disobey the elders."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Her mother's handsome face creased in shame. Adalina could only imagine what this meant to her. Winilind could not abide dishonesty. How long had this lie eaten away at her conscience in private? Adalina prompted her gently to continue:

  "I'm listening, Mother. What did you both do?"

  "We took you south. We told everyone the tale about yew berries and left the village at first light on the path to Scursditch. Then we turned and followed in the footsteps of Gurithen. We trod this very path, all the way to the Levon Falls, and we met the last of the medicine men."

  "What was he like?" Adalina almost whispered.

  "Not quite as your grandfather described. Perhaps Gurithen had been na?ve, or perhaps the medicine man had gotten worse and even his strong mind was starting to waver. He rambled and muttered and alternated between joy and sadness. He'd hold his head in his hands and tell us how he'd let someone down, how he had to help her before it was too late. But he talked enough sense for us to understand his wishes. He didn't want any of the gifts we brought. He told us that a life could only be given if we gave a life to him. I was sure the price would fall on one of us. I only thought of you... I didn't know but I should have guessed from what he asked of us... Perhaps I was carrying Oli at the time or..."

  Her mother couldn't finish and she wept openly now, stumbling as she walked. Adalina's own tears almost made her blind.

  "A sacrifice!" Adalina gasped. "I heard you say that word to Father. Mother, what did you do? Did you doom Oli's life in exchange for mine?"

  "We didn't know... We didn't know!" Winilind repeated between sobs.

  Adalina couldn't speak. They walked in silence, drying their tears and rubbing their eyes. For all that her mother's pain aroused her sympathy, Adalina could not help feeling angry just the same. How could they have been so reckless? She thought of her brother's pointed nose and soft brown hair. She thought of his crooked smile. Do I wish I hadn't asked? Do I wish I could return to ignorance? How can I live, knowing what the price of my life has been?

  She rubbed her eyes again and her shoulder struck the side of a tree. She stumbled. Lien heard and turned to help steady her. As soon as she did so, she looked behind them in surprise.

  "Marlo! When did you come to the back of the line?"

  Adalina got her balance and turned. Marlo, the Sullin's second in command to Erlends, stood only two steps behind them. Two other Hallin ahead of Lien now turned to listen.

  “I was trying to get past you both," he growled unconvincingly. "Look, we’re falling behind.” His eyes shifted between them and a slight smile played beneath his moustache, as though he had been dealt a winning disc in a game of Sevenstones.

  "Lien asked when you came to the back?" Winilind repeated the woman's question. Adalina was sure there was no one behind them when they had started to talk.

  "Relax," he laughed. "I'm not stalking you. Erlends would have re-joined us by now if your husband hadn't set this ridiculous pace. I held back to speak with him when he reached the line. I'm overtaking you now if you're not going to keep pace."

  He pushed roughly past them, across the gap that now separated the small group from the rest of the clan. Adalina and Winilind caught each other's eyes. Perhaps it was true - Marlo had hung back to catch his chief's ear before he joined the bulk of the clan. But the question still remained: when did he catch up to them and how long had he walked behind, listening to their conversation?

  "What were you two talking about?" asked Lien, picking up on the looks they exchanged.

  "Just Oli," Adalina quickly replied. Her mother would struggle to think of a lie. "We were sharing memories of him. Look," she added. "We really are falling behind."

  A gap had opened up between the back of the line, which Marlo now joined, and the small group which had formed around Adalina when she stumbled. They turned to catch up, but before the group could close the space a clear, high scream pierced the air. Heridan’s voice boomed loud and clear to where they stood.

  “Form a spear circle! Aimar in the centre. Form up!”

  They were under attack! Adalina had not trained with Heridan, but she knew what it meant if he wanted their craftsman. They needed fire.

  “Sleepers!” Winilind shouted. “Get behind the spears. Go! Leave the packs!” Her mother pulled the bag off her shoulders and pushed her towards Heridan’s voice, but the others were already moving out of sight as the long line of clansfolk clumped into a circle.

  They ran for the clan. In the gloom Adalina saw a curved line spreading through the trees. Hallin hunters and Sullin warriors pushed to the front, where a wall of spears bristled like the back of a quivering hedgehog. She could not see her father. He would be on the far side where the front of the line had been. In the distance she heard thumps and screams. They had already engaged.

  In her whole life, Adalina had only seen root sleepers once. They featured in so many of the Hallin's tales but only the hunters and warriors encountered them, most often in winter when they rooted out their nests and killed them in their sleep. When Adalina had seen them, she had been in the village. It was the same summer when Pasha was locked in her hut. She remembered, because the girl had screamed and slammed herself against the door with such a fury that the hinges shook. They’d been in no real danger. Every adult in the clan had held a burning branch in a circle of flame around the village perimeter. The children had watched from behind the fence, whispering prayers to Terlos as the shadowy, limber forms sloped past through the edge of the forest.

  This time, with no fire ready, they were in danger. As they ran for the spear wall a black body leaped into view. With terrifying speed it bore down on the outward point of the circle they were heading for. Herself, her mother, Lien and three others in their group jumped back in the opposite direction. The sleeper stopped before it came within reach of the spears. Its writhing legs performed an about turn and suddenly the body, a black patch in the darkness of the forest, faced their small group.

  They hunt like we do, thought Adalina. She and her companions had been split from the clan as easily as Elder Joturn would head off a stray deer. The sleeper's curling legs moved in the shadows and the body rolled and jerked towards them, as though it were performing a twisted dance.

  They pulled tightly together, attempting to form a tiny circle of their own. Adalina took a knife from inside her shirt. Lien’s baby mewled and the shepherd circled her arms around the bundle on her front. As one, they backed away.

  “Stand still,” commanded Winilind. “We can’t outrun it.”

  “We have to join the group!” shouted Lien, then called out to her husband: "Thilo! Help!"

  One woman lifted a branch from the ground and waved it in front of her, as though willing flames to leap from the end. The sleeper crept forward and, despite the instruction Winilind had given them, they all inched back.

  The sleeper paused and lowered its belly to the ground. Although she could not see its eyes, Adalina felt its malevolent stare. Two legs slithered under the decaying leaves of the forest floor and shot up into the air before them. Winilind yelped as a rough limb struck her thigh. Adalina flailed her knife and felt it land. The serpentine form whipped back, and an angry hiss filled the air. The other leg withdrew more slowly and a desperate wail rang out into the forest.

  The world grew silent and time seemed to slow.

  Lien slid across the ground before them, bumping over rocks and roots like a child’s toy being dragged through the dirt on a piece of string. Beneath her own cries for help, her baby added its small voice. With her one free leg she kicked at the limb which circled her ankle, and the fingers of her right hand scraped four deep cuts in the earth, raking the ground for purchase on something solid.

  Adalina froze. She wanted to dash forward to attack the beast but could not move her legs. How can I live with myself if I watch them die? she thought. But the choice was not hers. Her terrified body would not obey.

  Then her mother recited words that Adalina had heard only in stories:

  “Maralon, blow a cold wind our way,

  Over enemies too many,

  Over foes too great,

  Maralon, if this is our last day,

  Blow a breeze to make us unafraid!"

  At the final phrase, Winilind raised her voice to a roar, pushed Adalina back and charged toward the sleeper. Her long skirts billowed around her legs as she ran, and Adalina felt like she was watching some other person than the mild, honest mother who had raised her. The sleeper stood directly over Lien, waiting. The others propelled themselves with the same frenzy. A new feeling filled Adalina. Yes, we Hallin can also fight. A chill spread from her chest throughout her whole body. She felt oddly disembodied from the terrible scene around her. This is surely the end, she thought. And yet, she felt at peace. Knife raised, with the name of Maralon on her lips, she joined the fray.

  Friday 4th April

  Sunday 13th April - scheduled

  Tuesday 22nd April - Just after I'm back