A Damsel in Distress
Instinct is not something to take lightly. Too many times, her instinct
had proved right. So when the vague sense of unease first appeared she
listened. Loosening her sword in it's scabbard, she moves quietly forward.
Hours in the forest of Arden as a child, and the many years surviving on her
own allowed her to move almost silently. The thick layers of rotting
leaves, and the slight rushing sound of a fast flowing river helped mask any
small noises she might have made. It also masked the noises ahead of her,
but that same sense of wrongness told her to stop. Peering through the
branches she was able to view an open area along a river. Two men were
doing what could only be termed harassing what looked to be a young woman.
They were obviously unsavory types, being none too clean and they had a feel
of men who did as they pleased.
The young woman turned to face Krysta's direction showing her heavily
swollen belly. Closer now, the words were more distinct. "Come on
sweetheart. you been given it to someone."
"What's two more gonna matter. It ain't like yer gonna get another brat
now." The leers on the faces of the men, and the fear on the woman's face
stirred Krysta.
"Hell. I just wanted to move through here." grumbling to herself, Krysta
strolled out into the clearing. "Afternoon all."
All three occupants turned to look at her. The woman with relief, and the
men with anticipation. "Well looky here. Comp'ny. You can just move along
little lady. We're just gonna have a little private bus'ness with the girl
here." One of the men moved closer as the other one took the woman's arm.
Krysta stayed where she was, relaxing her knees slightly. "I don't think
she want's to do any business with you."
"Well now, I don't see as that's any affair of yourn. 'Less o' course,
you're planning on joinin her on her back." He turned his head to smirk at
his own cleverness to his partner. The blow took him in the temple as he
was turning back around. It dropped him to the ground, and Krysta flexed
her fingers, stepped over him, and drew her sword as she advanced on the
other man. Her eyes transfixed him, and he stood there staring at his
friend behind Krysta.
"Run," she hissed at him. "Run far."
He looked again from his friend to Krysta. "I ain't turnin away, so you
aren't gonna sucker punch me." He reached for a weapon, and stared in shock
at the remaining inches of gray steel that hung out of his stomach. With a
quick upward movement, Krysta ended his stupefaction. A slight sound warned
her, and turning she managed to block the knife of the first man. Unless
you are extremely talented, fighting a sword with a knife isn't the Shadow's
smartest way to live. This man proved that theory rather quickly.
Ignoring the small moans from the woman, Krysta quickly cleaned her weapon,
and searched the bodies. Nothing on either of them indicated that they came
from Roland, and she efficiently stripped them. Finding nothing, she hauled
them away from the river, deeper into the woods. Returning to the river,
she quickly washed away the inevitable blood. Funny, no matter what shadow,
and what color, blood seemed to feel the same. It left the skin sticky, and
the smell seemed to linger. Krysta never seemed quite able to eliminate the
traces of it without a full bath. That would have to wait for now. The
cries from the woman were growing stronger. Turning she found her sitting
on the ground, legs splayed.
"Please....the baby.....help" even the few words seemed to sap her strength.
Krysta stared at her dumfounded. "Now?" her tone was incredulous. "I
don't know what to do." A life of training and no close family left her
totally unprepared for this experience. she hoped that it was similar to
helping the mares foal.
Her panic fed off the young woman's pain. "You have to ..... auugh......
Oh Goddess....help me..."
"Think of it as just another foal" she muttered between clenched teeth.
She moved between the woman's legs.
The sun moved across the sky and still the baby didn't arrive. Krysta had
taken to crooning nonsense words to the woman. She still had no idea what
her name was, and she was in now shape to ask. In the late hours of the
afternoon, amongst a gush of too bright blood, the baby was born. A swift
glance told Krysta that the little girl was only going to have a mother for
a few moments. The woman was gray and already her skin looked waxy. She
had no idea where to get medical treatment, and this woman needed advanced care.
Gently she placed the baby to the woman's breast. Her eyes met the woman,
and the shared an incredibly intimate moment. "Take care of her until
Stefan comes." It was uttered in a barely audibly whisper. Her eyes held
Krysta until slowly Krysta nodded. The light died in the woman's eyes, and
the baby started to wail.
Torn, Krysta slowly reached out and lifted the baby off from the woman.
Now what. She didn't want to hang around here taking care of a baby. She
wanted to find out what had happened in shadow. That last encounter with
Roland had been too weird to ignore. It was time to start looking for
answers. A whimper disturbed her thoughts, and brought her attention back
to the baby in her arms. "Don't worry. It's not like I am going to leave
you here alone. It isn't a good plan to back out on deathbed wishes. I
just hope Stefan shows up soon." With a sigh, Krysta took stock of what she
had.
A sword, a worn pack, a couple of dead thieves, and would-be rapists in
the woods, a dead woman, and a naked, wet, squalling infant. Not a very
promising start. The woman couldn't have come from that far away. Unless
it was a dire emergency, you didn't travel that pregnant. She hadn't been
equipped for traveling, therefore, there should be someplace to stay close.
Looking around, she noticed a woven basket by the river's edge. Going over,
she saw that it was full of laundry. Gently she lay the baby inside of it.
"I know little one. It's only for a little while. I have to do something
about your mommy." Using her sword, she scraped a shallow grave and laid
the woman in it. It took a long time to cover it, and the baby cried the
entire time. Only able to do something about the woman, she ignored the
pathetic wails that came from the basket. Another trip to the river, and
more blood washed downstream. It felt the same, funny, life giving blood
should feel different than the blood that leaves the body from a weapon,
shouldn't it.
Finally she moved back to the basket. A quick search showed her the trail
the woman probably used. It was a five minute walk to the small farm.
"Hello" she called. "Stefan? Anyone?" The only answer was a distraught
moo from the stable. Moving that direction, she looked at the place. Small
but neat, it showed the pride and love that lived here. A garden by the
house, and several outbuildings signaled that they were self-sufficient.
She quickly identified a smoke house, and what must be an outdoor vegetable
cellar.
The stables were small and six cows were standing inside. They moved
towards their stanchions as she appeared in the door, clearly waiting to be
relieved of their burden. The barn smelt clean, and fresh straw carpeted
the floor. A small room to the side revealed itself to be the creamery, and
taking up a stool and buckets, she quickly did the evening chores. the baby
seemed to be sleeping and taking advantage, Krysta found the hay, and threw
down enough to hold them until morning. Taking one of the pails with her,
she moved to the house.
There were only a few rooms, but they showed a woman's touch. Bright
quilts on the bed, and the piles of hand sewn nighties, diapers and other
baby things proclaimed that this was where she was supposed to be. A
frantic search of the kitchen turned up nothing resembling a bottle. The
baby had woken as Krysta dressed her, and began to mew pitifully. "I know,
you're hungry. I just don't know what to do." She looked at the pail of
milk. There had to be some way to get it in the baby. "Well, you weren't
born all that differently from a foal, so maybe.." she dipped her fingers
into the milk and brought them to the little mouth. Instinctively the
little girl began to suckle. Again and again, Krysta dipped her fingers in
the milk, until finally the baby dropped off to sleep again. Carefully,
Krysta lay her in the cradle next to the big bed. Now all she had to do was
wait for Stefan, and she would tell him where to find the body and be gone.
Unaware that she was sleeping until an outraged cry brought her to her
feet, Krysta was briefly disoriented. The lamp she had left burning was
low, but she could see the cradle, and she remembered what she was doing.
Another trip to the bucket, and again she fed her with her fingers. "This
is going to get old. I sure hope your daddy gets here soon." A peculiar
warmth invaded her arms, and sniffing Krysta realized that she had another
unpleasant chore. Even after being fed and changed the little girl wouldn't
sleep. Spying a rocking chair, Krysta pulled it in front of the stove and
rocked her. It seemed like hours before she fell asleep, and Krysta could
lay her back in the cradle. Again she fell asleep on the bed, only to be
woken just before dawn by the now familiar cry.
After two days, Krysta was getting worried. No one had shown up. She
spent her days taking care of the baby and the animals. Days turned into
weeks, and weeks into a month. One day Krysta realized that she was happy
here. The baby was growing, and responded to her. Everything she need to
live for a while was here, and heck if she really needed something, she was
certain that there would be a small general store not that far away, but she
really didn't need anything right now. A quick walk had gotten bottles, and
a carry seat, taking care of the greatest difficulties of the moment.
Finally she decided that she couldn't continue to call the baby little one.
She took her to the river, and sat close to the grave. "What name should I
give your daughter?" She wasn't particularly surprised to not receive an
answer. She continued to stare at the grave. Flowers had grown over the
mound, and inspired by a rare moment of poetry, Krysta decided to name the
baby Calla, after the lilies that were growing there.
"Well, Calla, now what?" The baby gurgled at her, then began to whimper.
"I know, you're hungry. What else is new." With a lighter step, Krysta
carried Calla back to the house. She almost hoped that Stefan would never
come back.
"Momma" the shriek echoed through the yard. "Momma"
Her heart leaping, Krysta grabbed her sword as she ran out. After three
years, she knew how to differentiate the cries Calla made. This one meant
something was very wrong. She stopped at the sight of a man standing in the
clearing.
A sick feeling grew, as she watched the man watching her daughter. This
had to be Stefan.
"Where is Laura?" huh, so that was her name. Krysta had wondered about
that, but not lately. Lately she had been too busy raising Calla to think
much about the woman who had given birth to her. She had decided that the
mysterious Stefan wasn't coming back. She could just say that she had moved
here with her daughter, and he would leave them in peace. but she couldn't
do that. She of all people knew how important it was to a child to know who
your parents were. Besides the look on Stefan's face told her that Calla
looked like Laura.
"Stefan?" hoping that she was wrong, Krysta slowly sheathed her sword, and
comforted the little girl who clung to her.
Slowly he drug his eyes up from the child, seeming to see her for the first
time. "Where is Laura?" his voice was hoarse, and she could tell that he
already knew the answer. "Who the hell are you, and what are you doing with
my daughter?" Grief brought an edge to his voice, and he was shouting by
the end.
Calla began to cry, and Krysta lifted her into her arms. Glaring at the
man she told him "I know this is hard for you, but Calla has never been
yelled at. You are frightening her."
He stared from the little girl clinging to Krysta around the farm and back.
Tears slipped from his eyes. "How.." he cleared his throat. "How long" he
couldn't finish.
"She made it long enough to give birth." Awkwardly, as she was still
holding Calla, Krysta took his arm and led him into the house. She set
Calla on the bad, and gave her some toys to play with, then moved back to
the front room. It was another long night as she sat with Stefan.
She tried to leave, but not too hard, as she couldn't stand the thought of
leaving Calla, and she knew that Stefan wouldn't let her take Calla with
her. Not that wandering shadow was any place for a small child. They
agreed that she would stay until Calla was old enough to understand.
The next year was painful for all of them. There were bad times, when
Stefan would stare at her, then disappear into the woods. She never
followed him, but he always brought Calla her lilies. By the end of the
year, Krysta realized that it was more than Calla that was keeping her here.
Somehow, she had fallen in love with this quiet man who shared his daughter
with her. It was a slow growing thing, and it was almost another year
before Stefan seemed to care for her in that way.
Soon after she started to lose Calla. It was a familiar experience, and
one that most people were ready for. Raised in the castle, Krysta had
little comprehension of how children went to school. The first day was
tearful for both of them. Krysta swallowed hard as Calla slowly walked up
the steps of the schoolhouse of the little village a few miles from home.
Her light brown curls shone in the sunlight, and pride fought with sorrow.
Stefan held her as she cried the entire way home. "It isn't like she won't
be home in a few hours." amusement colored his voice. "I should be the one
crying, after all, you had her for three years longer than I did."
"Shut up Stefan." she muttered, drawing a laugh from him.
They rode in silence for a few more minutes. Stefan reached out and took
her hand. "There is a lot of time left. She is going to be a little girl
for a long time."
"Not long enough. We aren't going to have a baby any more. She is going
to get married and leave us soon."
"Krysta." he seemed shocked. "She is only five. Marriage is a long way
off." Silence grew between them again. "Maybe it would be easier if we had
another child. Then you would have something to keep you busy at home."
Stefan cast a quick look at Krysta.
She turned to face him. "Stefan. We both know that isn't going to happen.
It hasn't happened yet, and it isn't going to happen."
They had discussed this many times, but Krysta was adamant. She was not
going to have a child until she knew her own parentage. But to explain that
to Stefan would be just too much. Like most shadow-dwellers, he had no
knowledge of the Shadows, and she wasn't going to force him to believe.
Instead she insisted that she was unable to have children, instead taking
precautions to ensure that it didn't happen.
Krysta's fears seemed realistic a short twelve years later. The time had
flown by, and while Calla was a little girl for a few more years, all too
quickly she became a young lady. The young men swarmed around the small
farm, and Stefan strongly discouraged them. One proved to be more
persistent, and soon wedding plans were being made.
Trying to be happy for her, Krysta and Stefan helped build a new farm,
close to theirs. Long hours were put in outfitting the young couple, and
sewing a wedding gown. The gown was finished. The house was furnished, and
the garden growing. It started as a fever.
In a matter of days, Calla packed her wedding dress away, and buried her
fiance with their wedding bouquets. But Calla's intended wasn't the only
one struck. The mysterious illness struck the village hard. From the newest
infants to the strongest fathers, no one was safe. When Calla finally
succumbed, Krysta and Stefan were shattered. Krysta was the next to fall.
Stefan nursed her in the small house that had become Krysta's. Slowly
Krysta battled back, only to take her turn nursing Stefan. Worn out from
losing his daughter, and nursing Krysta, he only lasted a day, then he too
joined the long list of those defeated by the illness.
Krysta alone, of all those who had fallen ill had lived. Ravaged by grief,
the town turned against her. Rumors that she had brought the disease, after
all, she was the only one who had gotten sick and recovered. She was a
newcomer. Who was to say that she hadn't murdered Laura and raised Calla
just to do this to the village. Krysta had no idea what it was that she was
supposed to gain by this, but she had no intention of letting them take out
their grief on her.
Late in the night, she stood and watched the barn and house blaze. As the
last timbers fell she picked up her pack and headed out. By morning, she
knew that Benedict was right. She did know when it was time to go home.
With a lighter step, she started to shape her way to Amber.