Dragon & Dreamer | ONC 2023 honourable mention

2 - Gift or burden?

"Dáni? Wake up, time to go." The urgency in Shonai's voice chased away the lingering sleepiness. Dánirah sat up, yawned, and rubbed the grit from her eyes. With nimble fingers she brushed a handful of prickly straw out of her long black hair and twisted it into a quick braid.

It was still pitch dark in the stable, and the farm horse in the adjacent box snorted in its sleep.

"It's the middle of the night, mother. Can't we wait until sunrise?"

"Shh. Our way is long today, and I want to get a head start. Who knows what kind of trouble awaits us?"

Muffled sounds told Dánirah that her mother stuffed her belongings into her pack, and she rushed to do the same. Not a simple task without light. At least she remembered where she had placed everything last night, a habit learned on many long voyages. She was ready and slipped on her boots when Shonai cranked open the barn door.

A draft carried the night's chill through the crack like a messenger with frightening news. Dánirah pulled her shawl closer, shouldered her bag, slipped through the door, and closed it behind herself. Shonai's form was just a shadow leaning into the fierce gusts, but she followed her mother without a complaint into the night.

When the wind pushed the clouds aside, the waxing moon illuminated the path through pastures. Shonai walked fast, and Dánirah had to hurry to catch up. She touched her mother's arm. "Easy, or your cough will start again."

Shonai shivered. "Don't worry, it's getting better by the day now." As soon as she finished her sentence, she doubled over, and a dry cough shook her body. It didn't last long, but when she straightened up, she cupped her hands around her mouth and nose to warm the air. "Just a cold from the night we spent in the snowdrift."

Dánirah kept quiet. That night had been over a month ago, and the time in the winter camp hadn't helped her mother much in getting over the illness. Yesterday, they left the camp because of a dream, and she suspected another one to be the reason behind this early start. But Shonai never talked about her visions unless a prophecy mattered to Dánirah directly. So she was surprised when her mother took her hands.

"Last night, I had a big dream. I don't understand it all yet, but things will become clearer in the future. Our path will split today."

A tremble of foreboding ran down Dánirah's spine like a trickle of icy water. "No."

"Don't worry, it will be alright." The older woman seemed to listen to the wind. "Do you feel the anxiousness as well?"

"Anxiousness? I'm terrified. I won't leave you, not when you plan to go to the city." Dánirah shivered, but not only from the night's cold.

Shonai shook her head. "Don't listen to it. It's the projected fear of a kae you're feeling. Come, let's move on so the little darkness finds her rest."

She took her daughter's hand and pulled her along the path. A stone's throw away, the feeling of terror subsided. Dánirah took a deep breath. "How do they do it?"

"The kaedin? It's their way of keeping strangers at bay and protecting themselves. They transmit an intense fear into the mind of intruders. We must have disturbed this one. I am sorry, I shouldn't have told you the news in this situation." Shonai let her hand go and moved on.

"I'm still not leaving you, not with your cough and spring another month away. You can't be serious."

Shonai sighed and adjusted the straps of her pack. "There is no reason for raising your voice, Dáni. You know very well it doesn't pay to ignore my gift."

Dánirah did, but she didn't want to separate from her mother either, not while she was not her usual energetic self. She kicked a stone from the path with her worn leather boot. If only it were warm enough to walk barefoot again. If only this ill-fated voyage were over.