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A GHOST AND A GIRL

AXTON

S he is still asleep in the light of a cold sky that matches the color of her skin, her eyes. Such a strange little creature to find in the middle of nowhere, more of a sylph than anything human. Made of wind and breath — not someone or something we have space to care for.

Even if her hollow cheeks and red-bruised eyes make me stupid with rations.

Even if her scrubbing at her muddy skin in the river for what felt like hours made me uncomfortable in ways I refuse to study too carefully.

Even if her voice in the night, singing to her fallen…companion…pulled me from my sleep into a curious, waking dream.

No.

She is a feather of a woman. A bird with hollow bones — the thought of her on horseback riding with my people over the miles we need to cover in the next month, before the cold descends and the wild pastures die off…

she would never make the journey alive. She barely looks alive now, her skin almost blue in the morning sun.

And blind — she must come from a soft people who would let a sightless child live.

It’s a cruelty we would never indulge in; a quick death is far better than the slow one the child would have suffered in our lands.

Perhaps she wasn’t born lacking vision, had it drain from her eyes too late to address it.

She is far from graceful — the number of times she almost fell on the short walk to the river was laughable — but she did make it there on her own, so she must have some ability to survive.

Though how someone who speaks in the Common Tongue, not our language, got so close to our lands, and why she’s here — those are answers I should take from her…

those are answers that will be wrenched from her if I bring her with me.

The Elders find anything abnormal…distasteful… and do not suffer its presence lightly.

I can’t let her go, not exactly. Too many of my people have seen her, curious questions whistled on the wind throughout the night.

Why are we stopping for a girl? Who is she?

Where is she from? Why was she bound? There would be no way to keep the story from ears used to finding meaning in the sounds of skittering rats in walls.

But if there is a way to leave her behind without it being obvious…

Suddenly, and with a speed that startles me, between one breath and the next she is up and standing, hand dropped to her side as though searching for a missing blade, white eyes wide and wild, nostrils flared.

“Peace now, Huldra,” I say quietly, trying to gentle my voice as I would for a spooked horse. “There’s none here who would hurt you.”

“Where…what?” she mumbles, confused, breath fast and shallow, before memory and grief wake in her sleep-clouded mind, and her face crumbles then smooths, all emotion pushed away, hidden so quickly it tells of a lifelong practice. Perhaps her people weren’t as gentle as all that.

“Food first. Questions can follow.” Stoking the fire back to life, I turn and rummage through my pack.

We haven’t had much luck hunting, but there’s enough for meals if we’re not careless.

Most of my supplies are at the main camp; I didn’t anticipate sleeping away from our encampment last night, so I only have small snacks, easy to eat while traveling.

“Here,” I offer shortly, holding out an oated nut and honey bar.

It’s my last, one of my favorites, and I’m suddenly angry at myself.

Sharing the one luxury I have with a fragile little snow mouse.

She tries to wave it off, and I shove it in her hands.

“Just eat. Stop being obstinate. This is all we have.”

“Oh.” The single word trembles, and she bends her head down, long white neck curved like a bird’s, then takes a miniscule bite, clearly forcing herself to chew.

All I want to do is apologize for causing that small, hurt exclamation, for her shaking fingers, for her furrowed brow, and it makes me furious.

“You’ll find the other food less to your liking, I’m sure.

This is the best there is; no use holding out for better.

” It’s senseless to have her think that there is anything ahead of her but hardship.

I won’t willingly make things difficult for her, but I don’t have time or space to make things easier, either.

So I try to ignore the sickening lurch in my stomach when she breaks the bar in half, holding some out silently toward me.

“Stop trying to feed me, Huldra. I’ve enough. ”

The spark of defiance that tightens her jaw at my words is…surprising. And concerningly alluring. “ You said this is all we have. If you didn’t lie, then it means we share. So which is it — are you telling the truth? Or are you speaking with a forked tongue?”

Choosing not to answer, I simply reach out and take the offered bar from her hand, pressing my lips together to not respond to the smug look on her face. The hint of fire disappears as quickly as it flared though, and she collapses back into herself as she nibbles on the food.

We eat in silence until she clears her throat; questions obviously fill her mouth, and I roll my eyes silently behind my helmet. “Ask what you want. Loose tongues rarely loosen blades. Though I make no promises.”

“What is it you keep calling me? Huldra?”

The careful way she says it almost makes me smile. Almost . “It’s what I assume you are. You’re clearly not human, so?—”

She reacts like I’ve slapped her, eyes flaring wide, breath stopping, nostrils flaring, and then it’s all gone and she’s empty, empty, empty. “Ah,” is all she says, flat and bland. “I see.”

I don’t know what I’ve said; something in the way she’s erased herself creates a storm in my chest, and I want to reach out and shake her until she comes back, or feed her sweets until she smiles.

This is why we don’t pick up strays, I remind myself. Less than a day and you’ve changed plans twice. Lose the girl, leave her behind with the body, and let her find her own way.

A series of sharp clicks and whistles from across the river brings me back to my senses. It’s too late for that; there’s no way now but forward.

“You’ll have to come with me. There’s no real choice in the matter. Can you ride that thing?” I point to the ragged looking horse her friend had her bound to, barely a horse at all. More of a child’s mount; I’m dubious it could bear even her scant weight.

“I’ve never ridden, and it’s been lame of late…” she offers haltingly, and I throw up my hands to the skies.

“Of course you haven’t. Of course .” Frustration sharpens my words, and though her face doesn’t change from its placid blankness, she’s not quite as skilled at keeping the barest hint of an edge from her voice.

“I’m tremendously sorry to disappoint you.”

“Obviously, Huldra.” My response is dry, but I’m incredibly grateful my face is hidden behind my masque; not for her sake — she couldn’t see it anyway.

But for those watching from the copse of trees with interested eyes; it would be whispered around the campfires in hushed gossip that the Commander had lost his mind, grinning at a moon-pale spirit when everything around was chaos and disorder.

“Well, then we kill it and you’ll have to ride with me for the time being.

I’ll figure out the rest tonight. But we can’t stay here. ”

“ Kill it?” She’s shocked, and I frown.

“We can’t take it if it has no use. I see that offends you, but I can’t apologize for it.

Every piece must be of some good to the whole when we travel through the wild pastures.

Every part must earn its keep. Perhaps if we were closer to home; it looks well enough to carry children or some such thing, despite its size.

But for the next month, we have no time or space for a lame, deformed horse. ”

Jaw clenched, she gets to her feet and dusts herself off before turning and walking over to the shaggy pony. “Then free it,” she says firmly, running her hands down its neck and crooning to it softly.

“It won’t survive, Huldra. I’m sure you think I’m being casually cruel, but you’re condemning it to a slow death. I offer it mercy.”

Turning back to face me, she locks her empty eyes on the sound of my voice, and though they are wide and unseeing, I still feel the weight of the moon on my shoulders, as though the TriGoddess were judging me through this tiny creature, and finds me lacking. It’s unsettling.

“A chance at life and freedom is mercy. To be the justice and judgment all in one only based on a passing thought is unwise.”

“You clearly don’t understand our lands or our people. This is the way of things.” There’s no room for argument in my tone; once I’ve declared something, it happens. That is also the way of things.

“Hmmm.”

Turning from me again, she leans against the pony, burying her face in its thin side, rubbing its ears with a gentle hand, completely ignoring me.

Sighing, I pull my blade from my belt. I’ll have enough trouble with just her; I can’t bring two stumbling useless creatures with me.

I’d never live through the Elders once we return to the Crimson City.

Better to deal with it now than scramble for explanations later.

A sharp, almost amused whistle jerks me from my thoughts; while I debated with myself, the sylph had loosed the pony, disguising her movements in the petting and stroking, then patted its rump hard enough to cause it to startle and scatter away.

The same whistle from the woods asks me if she should chase it down, but I reply with a short, angry chirp of sound, and try to ignore the whistler’s obvious delight in what just happened.

It would be a waste of energy to hunt the little pony only to kill it, but such obvious defiance to a direct command also can’t go unpunished.

“What… what ?” Excellent response, Axton. Clearly starting with your bladehand.

“Ooops?” she says, almost a question, almost a taunt; not enough of either to cause real offense, but just enough to let me know it was purposeful.

Nothing shows on her face other than a masque of apology — if I went off that alone, it would seem completely accidental.

“What a terrible mistake,” she continues blithely, pitching her voice low enough that none but me would be able to hear.

Walking toward me, she pauses after a few steps, tilting her head in a pantomime of contriteness.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, now more loudly, as though wanting others to hear, each word seemingly entirely sincere.

Hands flapping helplessly in front of her like a fledgling, she casts her wide gaze around her, and I narrow my eyes at her theatrics.

“I was going to bring him to you, but when I was tightening the halter, it slipped. I am unskilled with ponies.” Looking down at her feet, she is every inch the penitent; no one would doubt her.

“When I speak, Huldra, my words are law.” Blade and blood are clear in my tone; I see them flicker across her mud-stained skin.

“I am certain you are used to being obeyed.” Again, her words are unoffensive, but burrow like needles beneath my skin, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from replying in kind. Different tactics, Axton, I think. If the path is blocked, what use is it to continue to try and climb? Go around.

I step toward her until we are near enough to each other that no others, even with hawk’s hearing, could listen, and soften my voice.

“Huldra, it does you credit in a way. You have a tender heart, that much is clear.” Only her shoulders respond to me, sinking down on her exhale, but it’s enough.

This close to her I can see what I’ve missed; a fine, almost imperceptible trembling running along her skin, her shallow, hitched breathing, her flexing fingers.

Ah , I think, some unfamiliar pity filling me, leaving no room for anger, only a strange sadness and, surprisingly, a faint admiration.

This creature is barely keeping her skin on her bones — she is moments from dissolving into pieces — but is hiding it with every muscle in her body.

Ah. Perhaps one more death would have been too much in the moment.

And I understand. In a way I understand.

I, too, have known deaths that carved canyons in my soul, and it takes longer than a single sleep to learn to navigate that new terrain.

“We leave soon. We have some spare clothing, though scant, and there won’t be a chance to wash again for several days.

The river is cold, as you learned last night, but if you want to take a moment, this is your only chance.

” Longing flashes across her face, warring with uncertainty, and I continue, interpreting her worry.

“I’ll walk you to the water, leave the clothes there with you.

One of the women will be on guard from across the river; I’ll be breaking camp and give you privacy.

You have my promise. There will be no…accidental slipping of halters. ”

Her full lips curve up in surprise at my teasing; in the single movement, her entire face changes.

Words form and reform, but there is no answer to the starlight that flickers across her face then disappears.

I am beyond thankful that she can’t see the length of time it takes me to look away.

Though others can, I suddenly remember, and hurriedly straighten, stepping back from her.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I can tell it is a hard kindness to delay.” She pauses and sighs. “It’s not worth the asking, but will you not just leave me here?”

“ That I cannot do,” I reply. “Others with harder hands than I have would hunt you down if you tried to leave in this moment. ” I can’t help but put emphasis on the words, despite what I know to be the correct path forward. She hears my meaning, nodding once in reply.

“A hard kindness,” she repeats, then holds out a trembling hand. “If you are sure we have time enough, I would like to rinse off.” Swallowing hard, she steals her neck, clearly fighting the impulse to turn toward her fallen companion. “I…the clothes would be welcome as well.”

Taking her pale fingers in my own, I try to ignore the way they feel engulfed in my larger hand, and lead her to the water. “Here,” I offer gruffly. “You don’t have long. We can’t delay for more than an hour. At most.”

Nodding, she walks straight into the river, not bothering to remove even her outerwear. “I’ll be quick, in any case. It’s freezing!”

I watch her for a moment too long, then tear my eyes away, calling out in our language to the woman across the river, and return to camp, troubled and entirely unsure of everything I was certain of yesterday.