Hilda Dáíre

Chapter 3: Hilda

The trek was expansive. Hilda would have never had thought there would be so many different colors in the world, and never nearly this much of it in one place. The fields and hills of Ravka were enough to make her Fjerdan-born soul lift. Back home, pale white and the crisp blue color of the water were all she would see for weeks on end. It was enough to drive anyone mad. Ravka was, in some sense, a breath of fresh air, filling her cold lungs.

Caelina and Calliope were quiet for most of the journey. When they did speak, whenever the three travelers took a break for food and water, or at night when the sun fell weary over the expansive landscape, it was in hushed tones, and never in front of Hilda. It was as if they didn't want her there. In fact, thought Hilda as once again, the two Grisha sat huddled, their thick woolen cloaks pulled tight over them and their voices barely above a whisper, they most likely didn't want her there. She was a refugee, a stranger from another land. She barely knew the language, kept attracting attention, not to mention the fact that she was causing much more trouble than she was worth. Hilda was surprised that they hadn't thrown her away already.

Her eyes traced the clouds as they shifted in the setting sky, the rainbow color of the sunset swiftly moving to darkness. The cold would soon creep in, minutes after the sun faded from sight. That was something Hilda had learned her first night, huddled in her cloaks, the night breeze an icy breath on her cheeks. The Grisha had given her a scraggly wool blanket with a muttered apology that they couldn't find better. At least they had the sense to feel sorry about that, Hilda reminded herself as she burrowed further into the thin layers surrounding her. She could feel sharp stones and roots beneath her back, digging into her.

Hilda pressed her eyes tight, willing herself to fall asleep. It was easier that way. The noises of the night would come soon and chances of sleep would diminish by the hour. Hilda could hear the hooting of owls and the soft pitter-pattering of their horses' hooves as they pawed the ground restlessly. And then there were the muted whispers of her two comrades. In the falling night, Hilda could hear every word.

"She wasn't what I was expecting," Caelina was saying. "Not in one bit. She's young compared to the Fjerdans we see coming in, but still so old compared to the ones training at the Little Palace. Do you think it was the right choice to bring her there and not give her to Maysak?"

"It was the best thing to do. There's an aura to her, you can feel it. She's going to be a strong Grisha," Calliope replied. Hilda could hear her boots scraping the solid ground.

"But she's so...different. She doesn't even know her Grisha order!" Caelina said in frustration. "How do you know she's going to do well?"

"I can just tell. Have some faith in me, Caelina."

"It's not that I don't trust you. I do. Who I don't trust is her. Fjerdans—you can never tell what they want, or who they'll end up to be. We don't even know her name."

"She's dealt with an awful lot," Calliope was saying. "You can see it in her eyes. After a while I've been able to recognize it. I did with you."

They fell silent. Hilda wondered what thoughts were running through each of their minds. If only she could roll over, glimpse their faces, but that would surely ruin her cover of being sound asleep.

"We should get some rest," Caelina said after a minute. "If we wake early, we could be on the skiff by mid-day and at the Little Palace by nightfall."

There was a murmur of agreement and then the rustling of blankets as the two Grisha adjusted themselves on the hard packed ground.

Hilda lay awake, her eyes snapped shut, every sound amplified. It had been two nights since she'd arrived in Ravka. There would be many more to go. And maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to find a home at long last.

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Hilda was woken early the next day, when the skies were just turning to a pale gold.

"Pssst. Time to get moving," Calliope muttered, prodding her shoulder. "I know it's early, but Caelina insists. We'll be able to arrive at the Little Palace by nightfall."

"Up now!" Caelina called, kicking dust over their tracks to hide their movement. From whom, Hilda didn't know. "It's best we go now. Before they find us."

Before who finds us was Hilda's unspoken question but before she could open her mouth to ask it, Calliope gave her a look and helped her off her feet.

Hilda looked around. She hadn't been aware of her surroundings last night; it had been so dark; but now she took stock of the landscape. They were in a rolling valley, large sweeping trees casting shadows over their small campsite. She could hear birds chirping, some melodic, some harsh, and the breeze rustling through the branches. It was peaceful.

And yet.

It felt off. Hilda wasn't sure why.

"Come on," Caelina called as she and Calliope mounted their steeds. Hilda nodded and boarded the horse behind Calliope.

They took off, riding across the fields with the wind on their backs.

"You never told us," Caelina said abruptly after a minute, "what your name was."

"It's Hilda. Brunhilda Dáíre."

"Well, Hilda." Calliope smiled at her, not turning her head from the roads ahead of them. "Welcome to Ravka."