Macha paced across her room, sweeping up every speck of dust into a pan. With a pile built up in it by the time she reached the corner, the sable gave a little huff with a smile, unlatching the window to dump it out into the night air below.
``Now, today's final check-up.'' Her claws clicked against the floorboards as she pivoted around to the pots and planters. She brushed a finger pad over the leaves of a pot of parsley, full and verdant. ``Lovely progress, Mannis. Glad to see you feeling better!'' Turning to a line of tubers, she pressed her finger into the soil. Flecks of dirt stuck to her, but not nearly enough. ``Ah, that's my bad, Padraig. Your folks on the left need a bit more.''
She pattered over to the water pump, retrieving half a bowl of water with a few sturdy pumps. ``I swear that takes more than it used to. Hmph, regardless...'' The girl returned, sprinkling the water all along the dry patch of the planter. ``There. Easy fix. Take care, all of you.''
Lastly, she turned to a head of cabbage, half-grown. ``As for you, Aedin...'' Her eyes went wide. She lowered her head until her eyes were right next to the leaves. A bit of brown tinged the edges of the growing bulb, and at least one outer leaf had a little hole in it. ``Ohhh, oh dear. You're having some trouble there, girl. Sorry we're out of our usual method of luring the critters away.'' She retrieved a bit more water, readying the bowl over the soil as she brought her hand next to the most damaged area. ``Let's see if we can't make it better. Try not to rely on this too much though, okay?''
Her fingers glowed a pale blue, tracing complex shapes in the air near the damaged leaves. With a flourish, she traced a circle around the collection of runes, and they pulsed with a warm glow, tinged green. On the third pulse, she tipped the bowl of water, slowly adding more to match the pace of the pulsing. Just as the water absorbed into the soil, it drained away again, soon to be replaced by more as the brown tips of the leaves regained their pale green lustre and the chewed hole stitched itself together.
Macha leaned in again, inspecting her handiwork. With a nod, she pulled her hand away, dissipating the glyph. ``All better, dear. Here's to your health.'' She strutted back to her bedside. After stripping out of her vest and dress, she left them folded next to the dresser, then slipped into her nightgown. One last time, she turned to the corner her plants resided in. ``Good night, everyone.'' She glanced to the door. Stared at it, even. When enough time passed that a cold feeling wormed its way around her heart, she shook her head. ``Right. Everyone. Sweet dreams, `til tomorrow.'' She lowered a hand to the candle, weaving another set of runes together. A bubble formed around the wick, choking the flame until the room fell into darkness.
She slipped under the blanket, letting out a sigh as she nuzzled into the pillow. As the cool night air mixed with the smell of wispy smoke drifted under her nose, the embrace of slumber took her in its arms. In her last moment of lucidity, one thought repeated itself. ``Until tomorrow...''
*--------------------------*
A scratching sound pricked at the sable's ears. She grumbled, pushed up from the sheets, then turned towards the window, along the same wall as her bed. Light trickled in through the curtains, yet that scratching noise still resounded, some clicking too. Macha squinted at the window's handles. She blinked twice, leaning back. ``W-What?'' After one last bout of rattling, a loud clack came from the knobs, and they stopped shaking. Instead, one of them turned, of all things.
She pulled the blanket up her body and didn't dare make a sound as she peeked over the top. With a creak, both sides of the window swung open, and a hooded figure hopped in. A snout with reddish fur peeked out of the hood, scanning the room for something.
And when the figure's apparent gaze suddenly snapped to Macha in the process, the girl's heart nearly leaped out of her throat along with a shriek that put banshees to shame.
The figure jolted back. ``A-A Mhaighdean beannai - !'' Their paw slipped, they went tumbling back towards the plants, and on the way down, Mannis's pot clocked them good on the noggin before he tipped over himself.
Macha didn't move a muscle, and the stranger simply laid there beside Mannis's stray soil, occasionally twitching and groaning. After a while of that, she peeked out further from the blanket, an eyebrow raised. ``Hello?'' She stepped out of bed, tiptoeing her way over to the mess. She jumped at another groan, but the stranger went right back to being more of a lump than a person.
She knelt down next to them. ``Are you...?'' She hooked a single finger around the hood, tugging it back until the stranger's head came into full view. Curls an even deeper shade of red than the fur drooped over their face as they lay on their side. Macha leaned over them, checking the place Mannis smacked them. Though the red blended in, the wet patch gave away what happened. ``Right, not okay, not okay at all, oh dear...!''
She darted over to her supply cases, retrieving a roll of bandages and salve. She returned just as fast, setting to bandaging the stranger's wound. Once it was snug against their head, she leaned down, pulled their arm over her shoulder, then lifted with all her might. Though it took quite a bit of puffed cheeks and trembling muscles, she eventually got the stranger to their feet, guiding them to her bed.
``Now, what else?'' On closer inspection, their hair had more mats than ordered locks. Well, that settled that. She snatched her hairbrush from the nightstand, then leaned in close, examining every bit of hair as she brushed it. Each stroke drew slowly across the locks, and whenever the brush stopped suddenly, she'd pull back a bit, then reach in and tug the offending strands apart. A tedious process, but one worth the wait by the end. Save for the bits stuck under the bandage, those fiery, shoulder-length curls flowed beautifully into one another rather than meshing into some kind of nest.
A warm feeling suffused her chest, and she giggled, setting the hairbrush to the side as she let her eyes wander over the curls that brushed against the stranger's face. Such a long, pointy snout. And that fur! The white and black accents only served to further make the autumn colours present extravagantly! How daring! Sadly, something else took priority now that they were resting in bed. She strolled to Mannis's tipped pot, setting it upright before scooping up the soil and pressing it back into place. ``Thank you for your help, Mannis, but maybe be a bit gentler next time. They seem quite out of it.''
With a final pat to the soil and a brush against the now-upright parsley leaves, another groan came from behind her, this time paired with a bit of grumbling. Her ears perked, and she whirled around to witness the stranger pushing up from the bed on their elbows. She clasped her hands together with a smile. ``Oh thank goodness, you're awake!''
``Urgh, blasted...'' The stranger's eyes shot open, locked with Macha's. ``Oh. Right. You. Apologies for the sudden intrusion, but who are you, exactly? And why are you here?'' They swung their legs out from the bed, then stood, only to clutch at their head and stumble back onto the covers.
``Oh, no no no, don't move around so much!'' The sable skittered over, planting herself next to them. ``I couldn't do this while you were out cold, but now should be fine. Don't worry, I know exactly how this goes!'' She gripped both of their shoulders, and before they could sputter out a response, she dragged them down until their head rested in her lap.
``U-Um? What are you doing?''
She rested one hand on their shoulder while she splayed the other one near the bandaged wound. ``Caring for you, like anyone should. Hold still, okay?'' Even as the inside of their black-tipped ears burned a bright red, she began weaving once more. That same set of symbols she offered to Aedin the night before. She hummed a soft melody and rubbed at the stranger's shoulder, even as she finished the symbol and allowed it to pulse.
After a few pulses, she dissipated the glyph, and the stranger's whiskers flicked. They reached to the bandaged area, rubbing at it. ``Wha - Why doesn't that hurt anymore? And it's so warm!''
They gazed up at her, and she smiled in return. ``I told you. I cared for your wound. Nothing special. That said, we should - ''
The stranger's stomach chimed in, good and loud. They sat up with a start, clutching at their belly.
Macha sighed, rising and approaching her supply cases. ``Yes, that. You need to eat something soon or you'll feel faint.'' She dug through the topmost one. She brushed aside what packets of salt remained, then retrieved a bag of jerky and her precious jar of honey. Nearly empty, too. A shame.
She pulled a pair of strips from the bag and readied the honey wand. Carefully, she drew some of the remaining golden fluid into it, then spread it across both strips. She nodded. The stranger soon had a couple pieces of honeyed jerky in hand, and she returned the supplies to their place. ``I had this little treat for my eighteenth birthday recently. It's a bit extravagant, and I'll soon be out of honey for it, but it's worth it to get your energy back. How is it?''
The autumn-furred stranger sniffed at it, then took a bite. As they chewed, their eyebrows raised, and they offered a shrug. ``Not bad. I've had stranger things.'' After tearing through the first strip, they narrowed their eyes at her. ``Still, I'd think someone like you would have something frilly and sweet for your birthday. Probably lots of fruit, too. You are some rich folks' kid, right?''
She went stock-still. Her eyes darted to and fro until she finally settled on a response. ``I'm sorry? I don't think I understand the question. Rich? In what way? And what do you mean by `fruit'? I've never been sent something like that.''
They paused mid-bite. With a couple blinks, they pulled away from the last of their treat. ``You kiddin' me? Rich. Loaded. Silver spoon in your mouth. More food than these sods could ever hope to eat. You live in a manor half the size of my old village, girl, and what in blazes do you mean you don't know what fruit is?!''
She took a step back. Her hands shook at her side, undecided between clutching at her nightgown and raising in a guarded stance. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and her chest rose and fell out of her control.
``Whoa, hey, hey there.'' The stranger stood right in front of her. Their fingers entwined with hers, and a claw traced along one of her palms. ``Let's start over, got it?'' She patted a fist against her chest. ``I'm Fial. Just a gal livin' hand-to-mouth, scavenging for the folks I'm shacked up with at the moment. And you are?''
One deep, steady breath. That's all she needed to carry on and process the change in tone. ``Macha. I've lived here my whole life.'' Her eyes flitted away. ``I do mean here, by the way. I don't know what you mean by a huge manor. I have my room, and that's it.''
``Just this? Then how do you live? What do you even do up here?''
``Simple.'' She gestured all around her. ``Water pump. Dumbwaiter. Garden. Anything I can't grow myself, they send up the dumbwaiter once a month. I do get hungry in all of it, but I get enough in the end. Let me show you.'' She padded over to Padraig's garden bed, then knelt to one of the mounds. ``If things get tight, I can urge things along. It's not as good that way, but it's better than nothing.'' She wove the runes together with both hands this time, the result something similar to her healing, if more complex. The dirt below shuddered, and soon, the top of a tuber poked out. She dug around it until she could pull it out, and then she presented Fial with a full-grown potato.
The other girl, for her part, pressed her lips tight, inspecting the tuber. When she met Macha's gaze again, the look in her eyes bored into the sable's soul. ``I thought so. When you healed me before, I wondered if I was goin' daft. Not so, apparently.'' She held up the potato. ``You're a Runeweaver, aren'tcha?''
Her ear flicked. ``Runeweaver? What's that?''
``Those shapes you draw. Runes. Runeweavers are people who can draw and combine those to manipulate the world around them. If I tried doing that, I'd just be waving my fingers around with no results. No one really gets what makes someone a Runeweaver, but they just are.''
As Fial spoke, Macha glanced down to her hands, tracing familiar runes and dispelling them without a casting, over and over. ``I'm... special, somehow?''
``In a whims-of-fate sort of way, but yes.'' She crossed her arms. ``When's the last time you saw anyone else?''
``Saw? Well, probably... A few years ago, maybe. But I last heard from the others about half a year ago.'' She wrung at her wrist, but a smile peeked through the nerves. ``One of the staff, Oisin, would talk with me through my door sometimes. He was nice. He'd tell me stories since no one ever sent books or anything up here. He said he tried a few times, but they were never let through.''
The girl scowled. ``And he's not here anymore because?''
``I don't know.'' She gestured to the supply cases. ``My last delivery was much larger than usual. Covers my needs for about a year if I'm careful, though my verdant friends are already having trouble without a lure for the critters. I haven't heard a thing since.'' She clasped her hands over her chest. ``Oisin would usually save a story for my birthday. All I had for my eighteenth was my own handiwork.'' Moisture pricked at her eyes, and she looked up at Fial. ``D-Do you... Can you tell me what happened? You were out there, so maybe you heard something.''
She shook her head. ``Couldn't say for sure. I can tell you one thing, though.'' She gritted her fangs, a low growl rumbling in her throat. ``The whole manor's abandoned. Not a soul left in the place. Every last one of `em turned tail and fled. Typical pompous pricks. They hear tell of a war, and the first thing they do is pack up and leave just because they can with all that extra food.''
``War?!''
``So you know what that is, at least. Well, hun...'' The girl strutted to the window, leaning against the frame. ``Yup. Some folks from a ways off have been sending their soldiers here. They take whatever ain't nailed down, put our folks in the ground, and laugh.''
Her hands quivered once more. ``I always hated those stories. Even when Oisin tried to make someone sound heroic, it all seemed like blood spilled for nothing at the end of the day.''
``Well, I've spilled some myself, but I wouldn't say for nothin'.'' She patted a knife strapped to her belt. ``To keep myself safe. Others, too, if they're alright in my book.'' She sighed, her whiskers twitching. ``Look, if it's any comfort, I doubt he wanted to leave you behind. But when the snobs are feeding you and they say something ain't happenin', well... It winds up like those books he wanted to send.''
She nodded, but didn't look up. As she stared at the floor, Fial stepped around her, then approached the door.
``This is prob'ly locked, eh?''
Another nod.
``Awright, then.'' More of that clicking from earlier. Macha looked at last, and it turned out to be a set of thin tools Fial dug into the knob's keyhole. With a final click, she retrieved them, then turned the knob and threw the door open.
And beyond it stood a flat wall of polished wood.
``Eh?'' Fial leaned in and pressed her ears against it. One knock, then two. She crouched, tracing a claw along where the wood met the floor. She nodded, turning back to Macha. ``I think it's a display cabinet. Heard a few things rattle when I tapped it, and it doesn't meet the floor quite right. Guess they wanted to be sure your room was blocked when they left.''
A feeling that had itched at her all her life suddenly grasped its claws around her heart. It refused to let go, and it brought with it a stark hollowness as her expression fell further. ``Then I was never meant to leave, was I.''
``Well, look at it this way. That thing's completely hidden the door. No one would find your room if they're just checkin' the place for supplies. It sucks that you were left, but hey, that cabinet?'' She shrugged. ``Maybe it's the last gift yer buddy left ya. Oisin, yeah?''
A claw or two released their grip on her heart. She met Fial's gaze, retrieving some of the warmth she held when tending her wounds. ``I wish I could ask him. Know what went through his head. Know why he left me behind, despite everything.''
``Well, I can't promise that, but...'' She stepped forward, planting a hand on Macha's shoulder with a smirk. ``You won't find him staying here, eh? Maybe it's time to move on.'' She flicked a lock of the sable's brown hair, then continued walking toward the window.
``What?'' She followed after her. ``B-But where will I go? I don't know anything beyond these walls and the yard just outside!''
``Easy.'' Fial pointed back out the window. ``Anywhere. But if you'd prefer an option handed to ya, I'm stayin' at a refugee camp with some other folks. I bring stuff home, and they work their magic with it. We all stick together. That sound nice enough for ya?''
She stopped. She glanced around Fial to the blue skies and rustling trees beyond. Then she glanced back to her. This autumn-furred girl, this strange, peppy rogue, this... Adventurer? Oh, now there's the word for it! Her smile bubbled up within until it shone without. ``Crazy as it sounds? I might take you up on that. Besides, I could do far worse than following the lead of such a... Oh. Um, Fial? What are you, exactly?''
Her ears shot straight up, and her eyes went wide. She sighed, twirling her hair in her finger. ``Right, right, not seen a damn soul, that'll do it. In that case, hun, I'm a red fox. Nothin' special, just a plain ol' - '' Her brow furrowed. She glanced to the side, watching her finger twirl through her hair. ``The heck? Did you - did you brush my hair or somethin'?''
``Oh, yes. There wasn't much to do when you were passed out, and I must say, it looks lovely like that! Perfect for such a dashing fox, now isn't it?''
Her tail flicked, and her ears burned even brighter than before. ``N-Not the point. But, uh, you ain't half-bad yourself, ya know. A bit scrawny, but hoo boy, I ain't gonna be able to stop Muirne from doin' her damnedest to change that. Girl won't tolerate someone going hungry. Still sure you wanna come, Macha?''
Her giggle dispelled what few vestiges of emptiness remained. A bit of heat flushed her own ears, and she stared right into those sparkling green eyes. ``Yes, I'm sure. I'll just have to cope with this `Muirne,' I suppose, though she doesn't sound so bad. Just give me a moment to change, alright?''
The fox nodded, and Macha darted to where her clothes lay folded. As she slipped her nightgown off, thoughts raced in her head faster than the mightiest steeds in Oisin's tales. A new home, new people, a new world to explore, and all with an apparently rare power at her beck and call. Oh, the things she would give to find someone who could explain more of those symbols and powers! And all that space for the garden, she'd -
``Oh!''
``Mm? What is it?''
Tying off her vest, she spun back around to her intrepid adventurer. ``I just realized, should we bring Mannis and the others with us?''
``Wait, who now?!''
