The Battle Lord's Lady

Chapter One
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It would snow before nightfall. Atty stared up at the naked trees, following the sight of her breath, like little white clouds as it dissipated in the cold gray afternoon. The woods dripped near-frozen drops of moisture. Even in late winter the surrounding trees were impenetrable. Huge mounds of undergrowth still clung to green remnants and tried to survive before being suffocated under a blanket of snow.

She continued on her way, tramping through the maze, stamping her feet harder than usual to try and get the feeling back in them. Her toes and fingers were numb. She’d lost feeling in them some time ago and hoped it was temporary. Toes she could live without, but the loss of fingers would eventually lead to her own slow death. Any deformity was a death sentence at this time of the world if it prevented one from finding food. Worse if the Cleaners discovered it. Any grave injury or illness also meant a short life span.

Her home was less than a mile away. Atty hoped she would get back before nightfall. If it began to snow before then, that wasn’t a problem. Getting caught after dark and having to face the coming storm—that was another nightmare. She hurried her pace. The rabbits she’d found in her traps bounced against her back, their bodies bound together by a makeshift cord.

Somewhere behind her she heard the howl of a wolfen. She remembered the first time she’d seen one. Pawpee had taken her hunting to show her how to use the new bow he’d made her for her birthday. They had gone a hundred yards into the forest when they saw it, an emaciated female hungrily gulping down a small rodent. Patches of fur were missing from her body, and distended teats showed that she was nursing young. The animal looked at the two bundled humans without fear before trotting off into the underbrush. It had been huge, almost as large as a horse.

“Are they all that big?” she’d asked in a soft voice. She had been almost afraid it would hear her and come back to devour them.

“Most,” Pawpee had whispered back. “That is why you must never be outside the walls once the sun goes down. The wolfen could get you...or worse.”

Atty began to breathe easier as familiar landmarks came into view. She stopped at a large evergreen whose trunk bore directional marks. Her lungs ached from the cold. Her nose was a lump on her face, totally without feeling. At least this time she had something to show for her misery. Like the poor wolfen she’d spotted years before, she averaged one good hunt for every five, but recently it had felt as if the odds were getting ready to change again. For the worse.

The woods were beginning to thin out, and in the spaces between the trees she could see the compound. As she emerged into the clearing the sentry caught sight of her and called out.

“Ho! Identify!”

“Atty Ferran!”

“Ho, Atty! Looks like your hunt was successful.”

“It was minimal. You should have seen the ones that got away.”

The sentry laughed, signaling to someone below to open the gate. There were four gates leading into the compound, one for each point of the compass, and all of them just big enough to allow a rider or a small cart. Atty approached from the south, the side facing the densest part of the woods.

Stepping over the threshold at this smaller entrance was like entering a different world. The interior of the compound buzzed with activity, a hive of people going to and from work, a marketplace of sellers and buyers, a small hub of people doing what they were best at, whether weaving or blacksmithing. Everyone seemed to be hurrying to get whatever they needed doing done quickly. Although the compound was safe at night,, and a lot of activity still filled the inner courtyard beneath lantern light, it was the approaching storm which had them scurrying like chickens.

“Atty! Ho! What have you there?” a tall, gaunt, and balding young man called out to her. He manned a stall of potatoes and business looked brisk. Potatoes were a staple of the community. Fortunately, they could also be grown year-round.

“I’ve had a successful hunt, Posso,” she grinned. “And, no, you cannot trade for any of them. I need them all.”

“Spoilsport,” Posso grinned back. He reached into his pants pocket with one of his three hands to make change for one of his customers, promptly getting back to business.

Atty hurried through the main area and down a narrow street. The compound was built with the living quarters clustered in the center. The area ringing the living quarters lay between them and the immense compound wall, much like an inverted doughnut. Most compounds had been built like that. In the event a raid took place, and the enemy managed to breach the outer wall, at least the inhabitants had a chance to meet them in face-to-face combat to try and prevent them from penetrating the inner core where families were hidden.

The streets weaving through the apartments were narrow but wide enough for two people to walk abreast. To a newcomer the gravel-lined walkways would be confusing. To Atty, who had trod these streets since birth, they were no more a mystery to her than the woods outside the compound gates.

“Mohmee! Look! I’ve had a successful hunt!” She bounded through the door and held up her catch with pride. Her joy was short-lived. “Mohmee? Keelor?”

As she had expected, the fireplace blazed cheerfully. The table held a pot of holly branches, a makeshift bouquet until the flowers bloomed again. The spinning wheel in the corner still held the partially finished pile of wool her mother had been carding. But there were no smells of anything cooking. Atty trudged into the inner rooms to check to see if anyone was back there but there was no sign of her mother and younger sister.

Assuming they might be at the market, Atty peeled off her outerwear, hanging the sodden clothing over the rod extending over the fireplace. She took several minutes bathing her reddened hands and feet in the warmth of the fire before going back into the bedroom she shared with her sister to fetch some fresh clothes. The heat felt glorious. The dry clothes felt even better. As feeling returned to her extremities, she took the rabbits into the kitchen area and began to de-feather them. If her mother hadn’t been able to start dinner, then it would be a nice surprise to have dinner waiting for them when they returned.

She pulled a small pot from under the counter and began to peel potatoes and onions to boil with the rabbits. At one point a length of braid slipped from the coil wrapped on top of her head and fell over her shoulder. Atty stared at the thick, indigo blue plait, then gave it a quick toss to her back. She would pin it back up when she was finished preparing the pot for the fire. Unlike so many others, whose abnormalities were obvious and sometimes distracting, it was her only badge to show she was one of them. Her unusual color allowed her to be part of the compound.

Once the pot was sitting atop the grate in the fireplace, Atty poked her head out the front door and checked the street again to see if her family was heading home. Night had completely fallen. Other than the pole lantern sputtering at the end of the lane, there wasn’t any light to brighten the pathway. The broken moon was hidden behind the bank of snow clouds, now black ghosts riding low in the sky.

On either side of the apartment Atty could see lights dimming behind the drawn window shades in the adjacent apartments. Everyone was safely tucked in their prospective cubicles to await the morning sun. Atty knew her mother and little sister had no business being outside after dark unguarded even if they were in the heart of the compound. Besides, the cold was getting worse.

Sighing heavily, she closed the door, locked it, and went back to the stool by the fireplace. It was her seat, giving her an unobstructed view of the front door yet allowing her to remain warm and protected by the hearth. Her bow and quiver leaned against her, close at hand. Time passed slowly. The stew bubbled, mixing and softening the vegetables and meat until it was ready. Atty ate alone, never moving from her seat unless it was to check the street outside.

The town crier came around at lights out, accompanied by his ever-present protector with his crossbow and steel-tipped arrows. Atty doused the two candles she’d left lit, leaving just the slowly dying fire to throw faint golden shadows on the far wall from behind the screen she placed in front of it. Tears rolled silently down her face but no sound escaped her. The cold crept into the apartment even while the young woman leaned against the rock wall. Before long she was forced to put on more clothing to keep from shivering.

Late into the night, long after the fire had extinguished itself in the grate, Atty finally got to her feet and stiffly walked into the back bedroom, the room she’d shared with her younger sister for all of her twelve short years. There she lay across her mattress of pelts and fell asleep. The sleep of exhaustion. A sleep of deep mourning.

Outside the snow began to fall in fat lumps.