By the time she reached her partially completed rock shelter, clouds had drifted over the moon, casting the area into complete darkness. A rumble echoed in the distance, and for a moment she feared a rockslide until a flash of light caught her eye, followed by another rumble.

After months of drought, rain had finally returned to the area. But while she pondered this, the thought suddenly occurred: I have no shelter. At least nothing that will keep the rain completely off me.

A quick scan of the area revealed nothing. But that was no surprise given how dark it was. She didn’t really want to climb into a tree, but saw no alternative. With that, she clambered up the nearest one and settled into the branches, tossing an animal hide blanket over her.

Within minutes, the wind picked up and began clawing and poking at her even as she balanced precariously in the crook of the tree. Moments later, the rain began, at first a few scattered drops, then in increasing volume and ferocity. The few leaves left provided some protection, though of dubious quality since they served little more than to accumulate the rain and dump it on her. A slight improvement over having the rain pelt her continuously. Luckily, the animal hide kept some of the moisture at bay.

Keeping her partially dry did not make her comfortable, and being curled up in the tree was impossible. Hours passed as the wind and rain found their way to her skin, forcing her to adjust her small frame to fit among the tree branches and hope she did not roll out and land on the hard, rocky surface below. Cold air crept in and, combined with the wetness, seeped into what little comfort and energy remained, replacing them with abject misery and exhaustion.

At some point, however, she drifted off, despite the elements vying for her attention.

By the time she woke up in the morning, her body ached, as if someone had kicked and stomped her into unconsciousness. For several minutes, she struggled to move her limbs. Her left arm had fallen asleep, wedged at almost an unnatural angle in the branches. It flopped around like a useless appendage. Eventually, feeling returned, after a cascade of pins and needles.

She slid off the tree and hobbled around, trying to straighten out her spine. A shiver ran down it, causing her to stutter and shake almost uncontrollably. After nearly falling into the firepit, she looked down with dismay. Everything was beyond being wet, saturated even. She turned over some of the logs and watched the moisture drip off them.

“Ex-see-catoos,” she muttered. The wood grew lighter, as a vapor escaped from it. “Ignis.” A flame appeared and began licking at the newly dried wood, sending a small trail of smoke skyward.

“Faline,” a voice cried some distance away.

At first, she thought she’d imagined it, but then the words repeated, this time closer and in a voice she did not recognize. Wait. She did recognize it. Alax. A thrill of excitement ran through her, nearly drowning out the shiver in her muscles.

“I… I am over here,” she cried, much hoarser than she had hoped. She heard her name called again. So she yelled louder.

“Oh,” Alax said, appearing from out of the underbrush. “There you are.” She wore a hooded, fur-lined coat and a pair of nice boots, which contrasted sharply with the wet, threadbare animal-skin clothes Faline huddled in. “You look terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some,” Faline answered, her teeth chattering. “Good to see you.”

Alax looked over her shoulder toward the fire. “Well, you at least got a fire going. After the rain last night, I didn’t think you’d have any chance of getting one started. Nicely done.”

“Thanks,” Faline replied, suddenly more tired than she’d felt in a long time. “I need to sit by the fire for a bit.”

“I understand,” Alax said, looking around. “I’ve been here before. Once with some friends.” She paused, seeming to realize the thoughtlessness of the comment. “I brought you a few things.”

She produced a bag, set it down in front of her, and opened it. Quickly, she pulled out some string and a small bag. “Here’s some fishing line, cork floaters, and a set of hooks.”

From a bag on her back, she pulled a bundle of sticks and laid them down. “These are forked fishing spears. These should help you catch fish in the shallows.”

Faline stared at the items and sighed. “I’ve never caught a fish before.”

“I can help you there,” Alax replied. She proceeded to talk about attaching a hook, using a cork, and bait.

Faline tried to pay attention, but kept drifting off, suddenly jerking awake. The warmth of the fire, Alax’s voice, the fact that someone was actually here—it all felt surreal.

Alax stared hard at her. “Am I boring you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m so tired,” Faline admitted.

“I understand,” Alax said. She waved Faline closer. “Come here.”

Faline tried to stand, but her leg had fallen asleep.

“Never mind, I’ll come over there.” The young Harrowfolk girl slid in next to Faline and wrapped her arms around her. “You must get some rest.”

Rest, yes, Faline’s mind scratched out, as Alax’s body heat mixed with her own, pulling shades over her eyes. Must rest. The world blanked out.

When she awoke, the sun was out from behind the clouds and well overhead. She lay alone, wrapped in a fur blanket—Alax’s blanket—next to a roaring fire. A jolt of alarm ran through her. “Oh, no,” she cried. “What happened?” She felt an arm on her shoulder.

“Relax,” Alax said, “It’s just me. It’s noon, and I built up your fire. Eat this.”

Something long and strip-like appeared in front of her. “What’s this?”

“Jerky. Dried venison, a bit salty, but judging by the way you look, some salt would do you good.”

Even dried, the scent of meat caught her senses. She grabbed it from Alax and gnawed on the tough texture, enjoying every meaty part. “This is wonderful,” she exclaimed.

Alax held out a bag. “You won’t think so about this,” she stated with a wary look. “But this will get you through tough times or long trips.”

Faline took the bag and looked inside. Several whitish lumps sat at the bottom. She reached in and took one out. It seemed a bit doughy, but with a solid middle. “What’s this?”

“Faraninem,” Alax said. “Use it when you have nothing else to eat. It almost never goes bad.”

“Mind if I try one?” Faline said, having finished the jerky.

“Go ahead, this bag is yours.”

Faline popped the faraninem in her mouth and bit down. A mushy, clay-like texture greeted her. Along with a powdery taste, the likes of which she’d not encountered before. The taste was like a combination of dirt and sawdust. She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the taste, but it resisted. Grabbing her waterskin, she washed it down, trying not to get nauseous in the process. But when it hit her stomach, appetite pains disappeared in an instant. “Agh, that was awful.”

“Better than starving to death—barely,” Alax said with a rueful smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Faline said. She looked up at the sky. “Did I sleep long?”

“Yes,” Alax said, patting her arm, “And like a baby too.” She studied Faline’s face. “Now, tell me this. Why are you here?”

Faline felt her face grow warm and looked away. She didn’t want to turn Alax away as her village had. After weeks of solitude, the thought of losing this fragile connection was almost unbearable. “I’d rather not say,” she answered.

Alax remained silent as well. Faline turned to look at her. The Harrow woman’s face looked thoughtful, but not judgmental.

“Well, I suppose there is no going back?” Alax finally asked.

Faline shook her head.

“That is awful. I can’t imagine being abandoned like this.” She looked around at the makeshift shelter, the meager supplies. “My father was worried about you all night. He tried not to show it, but I could tell.”

Faline glanced at Alax in profile. The young Harrow woman’s face looked strained, and Faline realized with a start that her loneliness might not be entirely one-sided. Perhaps Alax was taking a risk too, befriending an outsider.

“Can you tell me where I can fish?” Faline asked, trying to change the subject.

Alax brightened up. “Yes, there is a cove on the coast that is great for fishing. Or at least was.”

“Was?” Faline asked. “Does it no longer have any fish?”

“No, it has plenty of fish. The problem is that some years ago, the Reavers found it as well. When they did, there was a fight, and now none of our people can use the cove.”

“Is it still too dangerous?”

“I don’t know. The Reavers only came there because our people were using it. After we left, I doubt they stuck around. They don’t fish—they’d rather take what others have than do anything for themselves.”

“Is there any other place?”

“Anywhere along the coast near the cove is good. The Reavers are always a threat, though, wherever you go along the coast. I can show you a place not far from our lands that is probably safe.”

“I’d like that. Game is getting scarce, and I need something more than bird or rabbit, which is mostly what I’ve been eating.”

“Okay, meet me at the rock where we first met in two days.” She looked at where the sun was lying in the western sky. “I must get back before people start asking questions. Father can only cover for me so long.”

“I understand,” Faline replied. “Thank you, Alax. For everything.”

Alax patted her hand and gave her a warm smile. “We outsiders have to stick together, right?” Then she was gone, leaving Faline to wonder what she meant by that.

* * *

Faline looked through the equipment Alax had left behind and sorted through what she could use immediately versus what she could eventually use. Of the tools, the axe, hammer, and hand saw were particularly useful—far better than anything she’d had before.

With renewed energy, she built up her stone shelter until the walls were high enough for her to sit up inside. Running large branches over the top, she bound them together with rope and piled as much material as it would take on top. By nightfall, she was able to crawl inside, drape the animal skins over the opening, with the hope that nothing was going to bother her while she slept.

The lack of a secure way to close the opening bothered her, and over the next couple of days, she fashioned a crude door she could wedge across the opening and brace with rocks to keep anything unwanted out.

On the morning of the third day since Alax left, she slipped out of her “cave” and made her way to the rock where they had first met. Sure enough, Alax was waiting and drew her into a big hug.

“It’s good to see you. Are you ready to learn to fish?” Alax asked.

Faline nodded, and they made their way due north, toward a tall grassy ridge far in the distance. It took them several hours, weaving through scattered trees and hillocks, until reaching a large grassy mound. Something tangy lingered in the air. “What is that smell?” Faline asked, genuinely confused.

“That’s the Gulf. What you are smelling is the salt in the water.”

“Salt in the water? How do you drink it like that?”

Alax laughed. “Oh no, you can’t drink it. There are many small freshwater streams that flow into the sea. You can drink from those. But if you drink the Gulf water it will make you sick.”

Soon, they made their way to the top of the ridge, and Faline stopped. “Oh,” she gasped.

Huge white sand dunes, from where she stood on the ridge, splayed out into a flat area of sand, smooth and rippled from where the tides had disturbed them. Blue seawater lapped at the edges of the sands, rolling waves ebbed and flowed, rose and crashed with regularity. She looked as far as she could see, east and west, and everywhere there was sand and sea.

For the first time since her exile, Faline felt something other than fear or desperation. The vastness of it, the beauty—it made her feel small, but not in a bad way. It reminded her that the world was bigger than Thornhaven, bigger than her mistakes, bigger than everything that had happened to her.

Alax laughed. “Have you never seen the sea?”

Faline shook her head.

“I first came here when I turned twenty, which for my folk is very young.”

Faline listened to the surf, breathed in the salty air, and watched as sea birds soared and dipped into the waters. “I could watch this all day.” In the distance, far out in the water, a white island was visible on the horizon. “Is that where the Druids live?”

Alax glanced to where she looked. “Yes, we call them the Wind Talkers. They can make nature do unnatural things. They call it nature magic, but we call it sorcery.”

Faline looked at Alax; her euphoric feelings began to drain away. “You don’t like these Wind Talkers? Are they like the Reavers?”

“We don’t fear them like the Reavers, for they don’t take anything from us. But they are sorcerers, and sorcerers can’t be trusted, for what they do is not normal.” Alax’s voice had taken on a harder edge.

And neither am I, then. Faline swallowed. She quietly resolved never to share or do magic in Alax’s presence if she wanted to keep her as a friend. When she glanced up, she found Alax studying her silent face.

“So, where do we fish?” Faline asked quickly.

Alax directed them toward a small cove a short distance away, where water circled with the crashing of the surf. “At high tide, this area is underwater. Lots of fish congregate here to eat plants at the bottom of this pool. When the tide ebbs, then you can fish here away from the surf.”

The concept of tides confused Faline, and Alax had to explain. Yet the young Harrow woman was patient with Faline’s incessant questions, laughing at the girl’s naivety without any meanness in it. It felt good to ask questions and not be slapped for them.

Alax hitched up her skirts and removed her boots to go calf deep into the water hole, forked pole in hand. Within seconds, she caught a small fish.

Faline scratched her head. “That fish is too small; you can’t really eat it.”

“That’s right, but it will make good bait,” Alax rejoined. She quickly baited a hook and tossed it out into a deeper part of the water hole. Watching the cork bobber, she hauled in the line when it disappeared. On the hook was a large fish, which flopped and splashed madly as Faline tried to corral it.

It took the two of them to get it off the hook and set it aside on a separate gill line. In the process, they both fell into the water and got thoroughly wet. Despite the cool temps, the abundant sunshine kept them warm.

Within a few hours, they landed three more fish and lost one when it escaped from Faline’s grasp. They laughed at that, both of them soaked and sandy, and for a moment Faline forgot everything that had happened. Forgot Ravael. Forgot Papa’s abandonment. Forgot being alone.

By the time the sun was sliding toward the horizon, Alax pulled in the line and began collecting stones. She sent Faline off to gather driftwood and dried grass. By the time she returned, the Harrow woman had a firepit nestled next to a dune, to keep the wind at bay.

“Pile everything in the pit, and I’ll start it with dry driftwood and tall grasses from the dunes.” Faline did so, and Alax worked to get it started, but despite her best efforts, the grass only smoldered and didn’t catch fire.

“Argh, I’ve always had problems doing this. Let me get my flint,” she stood and walked toward her knapsack.

Faline watched her go, then leaned quickly over the firepit and whispered, “Ignis,” and snapped her fingers. Within seconds, flame shot up from the grass.

“Oh, my goodness,” Alax said.

Faline whipped around, and the woman stood right behind her, wide-eyed. A shiver of fear ran through her. Had Alax seen what she’d done? Was she going to run away?

Alax pointed at the smoldering grasses. “You’re really good at starting a fire. How did you do that so quickly?”

Faline breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t seen. “I’ve gotten quite good at making a fire, since I have to do it daily.” Which was true, but how she did it, she wasn’t going to share.

Alax sank down next to her and set a small iron skillet between them. “Well, now we need to clean and cook our catch.”

Though Faline found the process rather disgusting, she quickly followed and committed to memory Alax’s instructions for cleaning and gutting fish. Soon they had the meat, along with some fat Alax had brought in a small jar, simmering in the pan on the fire. The final result of their efforts was a fulfilling, though not terribly appetizing, meal. The setting sun cast pink and orange tints onto the clouds overhead.

Faline rested her head on Alax’s shoulder. “Thank you for all you’ve done. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s quite all right. But you should really thank my father. He let me come here unsupervised, which is very unlike most fathers with daughters my age.”

Faline looked at her as the thought passed through her mind of what fathers should do for their daughters, and what had been done to her by her own Papa. Not that he didn’t have his reasons, but still. The ache in her chest returned. “Please thank him for me.”

“I will. Now let’s clean up and get out of here. Firelight carries pretty far on the beach, and though the Reavers have never made it this far west, I think it’s better we leave sooner rather than later.”

Within minutes, they scattered the firepit, buried the leftover fish guts and bones. As darkness began to settle, they navigated their way away from the coast, back to the rock they had started from.

A feeling of anxiety passed through Faline as they approached it. “When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know,” Alax somberly replied. “I must perform my chores for my father. I’ve been able to avoid them while I helped you, but Father made it clear I need to get my duties taken care of before I do anything else, for anyone else.”

It was as she feared. “I understand. I will be near the tidal pool if you get the chance to visit again.”

Alax laid a hand on Faline’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I will be back. I promise.”

Faline smiled, though her throat felt tight. “I hope so.”

“I will,” Alax said firmly. “You’re my friend, Faline. And I don’t abandon my friends.”

The words hit harder than Alax probably intended. Faline just nodded, not trusting herself to speak.