Barbarian

Chapter I: Stones [✔]

“Maeve!” Dalla shouts, bursting into the hut. Her curly dark hair is dishevelled from running and her green eyes dance with excitement.

I sigh and sit up in on my pallet. Through a slit in the deer skin door of the hut, I can see that the sun has only just begun to rise and the earth is covered in a thin layer of mist coming from the river. 

“What’s happened? Why are you awake so early? Did you have an accident in bed?” I say, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

She narrows her eyes, a glimmer of a smile on her lips. “We’re leaving,” is her only reply. She snaps the hut door open, letting in a wisp of the crisp spring breeze, and darts back outside.

I scramble to my feet and slip on my boots. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the bread and cheese that someone left out for me. I consider them for a moment before rushing outside after Dalla.

I am hit with the sharp air of the early hours of the morning. The rising sun is slowly burning the fog away, leaving it only shin deep. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself as I look around. Where has Dalla disappeared to? 

I take a guess and turn right, my boots crunching the morning frost and my breath forming clouds of vapour. People start emerging from their wattle-and-daub homes, wrapped up in layers of blankets and furs, determined to keep the cold at bay. 

At the edge of the village, I spot Da and Mama beside a cart talking to Dalla and Ailis, her twin. Ailis runs her hand absentmindedly over her light brown hair which is pulled back in her usual braid. 

Da keeps his usual stoic expression while Mama fusses over Ailis’ tresses. Ailis shoos her hands away, her expression one of annoyed intolerance. Dalla bounces from one foot to another and her face a picture of joyful exhilaration.  

“What has happened?” I ask, sidestepping a man lugging a large chest then ducking beneath a woman carrying a pile of furs. 

“Didn’t Dalla explain?” Da asks once I reach the group. “I told her to.” 

“I don’t believe that Dalla and explain should ever be said within the same sentence,” I say, shooting Dalla a playful glance.  She blushes. Dalla has a reputation of being so absentminded and spontaneous that some of the villagers have a special nickname for her: Meuranta, or crazy.

“Sorry,” she says through an embarrassed smile. 

“She said that we’re leaving today,” I say, turning back to Da. “I thought that we were going to wait at least a couple more weeks until the air becomes warmer.”

“No,” Da says, his voice deep and booming. “The thaw is coming unusually early this year and if you don’t leave today, it will take you at least an extra week for you to circumvent the dangerous waters of Tríabhainn.”

I nod. It had been unusually warm the past couple weeks. And Tríabhainn, a group of three rivers running parallel to each other, swells so high during the spring that it became a single giant channel. It is so fast and rough that strong waves often spring up along the shore dragging everything back into its depths. This past year alone, we have lost two men to the watery grave. Only the warriors from our village have seen the aqueous wonder. Dalla, Ailis, and I would be the first non-warriors, and females, to ever see it. A tingle of excitement tickles down my back.

Da continues, “Go back to the hut and finish packing whatever’s left that you may want to bring. Quickly.”   

Dalla grabs my hand and starts pulling me back towards the centre of our small village.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Dalla asks as we watch the rest of the village awaken and start about their daily routine. I suppose there’ll be no special farewells for the daughters of the chief.