Going outside had not helped Darin the way that it was supposed to help. She still felt like she couldn’t breath. She still felt like she was shaking uncontrollably. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know that she wanted to do anything. Then Ridahne’s hand came to clasp her shoulder and it was such a jarring difference from the inner turmoil that Darin was facing that the human found herself focusing on that. The Azurei’s hand acted as a focus to ground her in to the here and now as she slowly remembered how to breath. It appeared that try as she might Darin just couldn’t hide her panic from Ridahne.

She started to speak, “It’s just that.”

She trailed off without finishing. What was she saying? Hadn’t Ridahne talked her down from her panic about being The Seed-Bearer just last night? It wasn’t fair of Darin to expect her to do it again so soon. Besides she was panicking over something so stupid. It didn’t make sense to worry about something so many countless of years from now, especially since getting to that point depended solely on Darin not screwing up any time soon. Darin had to be honest. She was trying her best but that didn’t seem to be good enough. So far the only things she had managed to do right was freak people out by causing nature to do things it really wasn’t supposed to do and practically bully an exile into changing her entire cultural just to suit her silly whims. Those didn’t seem like things The Gardener would do, and wasn’t she suppose to be emulating him?

So, Darin just smiled even though the grin was kind of shaky, “It’s nothing I was just being.” There was another pause, “Silly. I was just being silly.”

Something, Darin, wasn’t sure what, told her that Ridahne wouldn’t react well to the human calling herself stupid. Darin wasn’t sure what to make of that thought. For some reason she found herself thinking of the night she had introduced Ridahne to The Tree and the sudden hug that had come after that meeting. Darin still didn’t know what that conversation had been about, but Ridahne had been more confident ever since. In fact, Ridahne seemed more confident ever since they left the Farm. Darin just felt like she was floundering over and over again. How could so many people have faith in her when she had so little in herself.

Darin laughed lightly and deflected just a bit, “I’ve never used a quill before. It’s thinner than the writing instruments I’ve used before.” She rubbed at her hand, “Using those hurt and the quill was just worse.” Her smile grew wider as she held up her hands and flexed her fingers, “I can write, but I’m no good at it. My hands are meant for hoes and shovels and digging in the dirt, not quills and ink and writing on paper.” She jokingly poked Ridahne in the shoulder, “Just another way you out class me isn’t it?”

Ridahne watched Darin quietly and listened to more than just her words. Ridahne had a decent eye for body language, and the quiet things left unspoken that filled in the silent gaps between conversation. Ajoran was good this too, which meant they didn't always have to say what they wanted to express, and she felt like he understood her silence. Ridahne did not know Darin nearly as well as Ajoran--they'd known each other for decades--but she felt like she knew something of Darin's silence, too. The quill might have been part of it, but Ridahne guessed it was barely about that. There was more to that feeling, she knew.

Ridahne snorted, and the sound might have seemed derisive to someone who didn't know her dry sense of humor. "Outclass you, do I? At swordplay, yes. But I do hope you realize that if you gave me a patch of land and some seeds, and asked me to make food grow out of them, I'd probably drown them in too much water and then try shouting at them until they sprouted. My hands were not meant to till soil. And anyway, calligraphy is sort of...inherent to Azurei culture, and we have far more time to learn it and perfect it than humans do. If you've ever wondered why elves seem generally very good at whatever it is that they do, it's not because we're superior. It's just that we have a long, long time to refine the art. You've got me beat in skills and accomplishments when I was your age. The only thing I was good at when I was your age was hunting and getting into fights. At least you know a trade."

Ridahne looked up at the leafy emerald sky and studied the way the leaves rubbed up against each other. "You talk a lot about farming like it's a lesser trade. Like it's lowly and mundane. And maybe to you, it might seem that way since that's all you've known. I think I felt the same way about fishing when I was growing up. I saw weavers and potters and jealously admired the results of their work. I saw horse breeders and far-traveled merchants and was envious of their freedom. And I saw the eija and how beautiful they were...not their faces necessarily, I don't mean that kind of beauty. But beauty in motion. With their beautiful sashes and glittering swords, and their glossy horses and the money and freedom and power they had. The absolute poetry of their skill in what they did. And I longed for that and resented every trip to sea and the reek of fish. Weirdly enough, I got what I wanted. And it was so much more than I bargained for. Well...you know how that turned out. And there are times that I regret not having a different set of skills. Don't get me wrong, I love the sword and the artistry and control it takes to wield one properly. I have no doubts that was my calling in life. But sometimes I wish that my skillset wasn't the harbinger of death and pain. Do you know what it's like to know that's your purpose?" Ridahne made a face that she quickly smoothed over, but even she couldn't hide it from Darin completely. Her visage contorted as if someone had pressed a block of ice against her back, and she was trying not to yelp or gasp.

"By nature, what you do is nurturing. You create and sustain life. I...destroy it." She grew deathly serious as she said, "Do not aspire to become me, Darin. I am not a model to shape yourself after, not for you." Her tone softened a little. "I need your calloused, dirt-smeared hands as much as you need my ink-stained ones." Ridahne put a hand on her shoulder and touched her forehead to Darin's. Whether the human knew it or not, it was a deeply intimate gesture in the Azurei culture, reserved for those who had earned trust, understanding, and kinship. She had to bend down to do it, as Ridahne was tall even among her own people. "We are two halves of a complicated whole, Darin Seed-Bearer. Each necessary for the other's success. The next time you doubt that, just remember this: If I did not 'outclass you' in some things, then you would have no need of me, and I would have long since been executed, and my bones would lie in the dust."

Ridahne pulled away, but she took Darin's hands and seemed suddenly to burst with excitement. "I'm going to go back and finish my research, feel free to join me or otherwise occupy yourself as you wish. But be back at the inn tonight, because I want you to be there when I mark my ojih. I will show you the ceremony, but I want you to have the honor of making the first strike of the needle. Don't worry! I'll guide your hand, you simply need to tap the needle. It would mean so much to me." And with that, she glided back inside to the study room to finish her task.

Darin didn’t know as much as she would like about Azurei culture, but even as a human the gesture Ridahne used was strangely intimate. Darin had meant it as a joke, yet Ridahne had seen through the shaky laughs and tired smile to see a truth that the human was struggling with. Darin had to bite back a sob as the warrior pressed their foreheads together. How was Ridahne so good at this, at loving, at saying what needed to be said? Was it practice like the Elf implied it was? Darin let Ridahne go back to the research. She felt her friend’s absence keenly.

Without thinking about it her head craned back to look at the canopy above her. It was an old habit, looking up at the sky to think or look for rain. There was nothing to see her except the rustling leaves. Darin heard creaking noises and shot a sharp look at the nearby branches and trunks. There was the air of a child would had been caught in the act and scolded removing their hand from the sweets jar. Darin may have wanted to see the sky, but she wasn’t going to have a repeat of last night. The creaking noise stopped, and Darin crack a smile.

It quickly disappeared as she looked down at her hands. One was clasped in the other as she kneaded her hands in another old habit. This one was an end of day chore designed to work the stiffness out of her joints and tendons. As she did so she thought. It was a sobering thought to know that if she asked for it Astra would tear itself apart and sink into the sea. She couldn’t imagine doing that. She couldn’t see a reason for that. Yet her emotions were getting the better of her and in those emotions were subtle requests. She may not consciously ask for it, but if she got angry enough or depressed enough it would be easy to loss track of what was happening. Astra would be no more before she could stop it. She found herself reentering the Archives. She had research of her own to do.

The person at the desk looked up as she approached, “How can I help you?”

Darin sank into the bow of a student towards a teacher, “Um yes. Thank you. Can you tell me where I can find books about controlling your emotions? Well not your emotions. I mean for me. To control my emotions. In Common please.”

The woman cut off her babbling and gave her a location. There was another bow from Darin and more babbled thanks and then the human was off. It didn’t take her long to find the books. It took a little bit longer for the girl to decipher the titles. Thankful there were no nearby attendants to make fun of her sounding the words out loud. She found a thin book with a title about meditation. Darin had a vague idea of what that was. She had no idea what it was. She sat down with her legs crossed and her ankles on her knees as she gingerly opened to the first page. Oh, there were lots of words. Darin’s face screwed up in despair as she started reading with a whisper. This was going to take a while. She would probably be here until she got kicked out or Ridahne came to get her. Or until she got frustrated and stormed out of the building. Whatever happened first.

Ridahne returned to her task with renewed vigor and confidence. She tried to remind herself that while each stroke of her pen was permanent, she was at no point ever obligated to stick to any one design if she didn't feel it was right. She could draw and redraw until she got it right, and that was a comforting thought. She didn't have to commit to anything until the needle touched her skin. The elf felt a tingle run down her back at the thought. Marking an ojih was a significant event in any case, but the last time she'd done it, it had been one of the hardest moments of her life. She was ready to redeem the experience. And herself.

It was late evening and the sky was just beginning to grow a bit dim when Ridahne emerged from the study room with one single piece of paper in hand. Hours of research, trial and error, and refining got distilled down to one sheet of absolutely pristinely inked paper. It would be the template for her final tattoo, and the official record for the other marks. She even had a new version of her house sigil drawn out so that she could give it to a silversmith and have a new one made that incorporated the mark for Guardianship. She was so excited to share it with Darin and to actually put ink to skin that she looked like a dog who'd just been invited to a walk.

An archivist tapped her on her lofty shoulder. "Excuse me, Azurei." She held out a wet rag. "Your face..."
Ridahne gasped sharply and took the rag, fervently scrubbing at the spot the archivist indicated. When the woman assured Ridahne the stray smears of ink were gone, Ridahne bowed deeply in the manner of the Azurei. "Thank you," she said with extreme fervency. It wouldn't do for her to go walking about with a smudged face, and the fact that the archivist had said something told of her knowledge of Azurei culture, and also the depth of her character. "I'm finished with the study room, by the way. There is a stack of notes in there, please have them destroyed."
"I will see to it personally. Anything else I can do for you?"
"If you see my human companion, a young lad, tell him I've gone back to the inn."
"Of course."

Ridahne thanked her, and then bounded off towards the inn where they were staying. On the way, she went to a chandler and purchased an armful of candles. She would need more light than what a few uloia could provide for her work tonight. She was beaming, and hoped that Darin would find her soon so she could start.

Ridahne was about to change Azurei history. Again.

The book was confusing, and it hurt Darin’s head. There were a lot of words that looked familiar, that should have been familiar, that weren’t. She had to sound out many of the words and she was sure that she was getting it wrong. She wanted to scream in frustration but didn’t want to upset the silence. She was also positive that more than one of the librarians were taking turns just wondering over here to check on her. With a scowl she slammed the book shut and stood up. She carefully put the book back on the shelf and moved to exit the Archives.

Before she left the attendant at the front desk called out, “Your companion needs you back at the inn.”

Darin turned to bow in deference to an elder, “Thank you. Have a nice night.”

The librarian bowed in respect to a student and then Darin left. She didn’t want to go back to the inn. She knew what Ridahne was getting ready for and Darin was nervous. The Elf, on more than one occasion, had mentioned Darin doing the first strike. The human wanted no part of it whatsoever. She couldn’t even hold a quill. She was certain that one way or another she would mess it up. Without thinking about it, Darin found herself wandering. She needed to stop that especially since Ridahne was probably already at the inn and Mrixe was probably torn between doing his actual duty of seeing to The Seed-Bearer’s comfort and his supposed duties of watching the traitor. The human supposed that if they stayed here too much longer, they should stop separating, if only to make his job easier.

Eventually Darin found herself in the market. She wondered about with people looking at her strangely. It was to be expected after the previous night. As such she kept to herself as she weaved though the dying traffic. Evening was coming fast, and people were closing up stalls and hurrying home. Darin did her best to stay out of the way. She had no real goal, but she supposed she couldn’t linger for long. As such she slowly meandered back to the inn. She had still yet to come up with an argument for why she shouldn’t be tattooing Ridahne, but maybe she would after she saw the warrior. Somehow Darin didn’t think so.

Darin spotted Mrixe in the bar portion of the inn talking to anther guard. He waved her over, “Ah! Mr. Lively.” He pointed at his companion, “This is Ulice Macs. She’s good stock and will be keeping an eye on you and your companion tonight. Will that be acceptable?”

Darin shrugged, “I’ll have to ask Master Torenzi.” She told the new guard, “You were there last night, right?”

She nodded, “I was. I keep my promises.”

Darin nodded, “Just making sure.” She gestured towards her room, “I best be headed up.”

Mrixie scowled as he pointed at an empty spot, “I have an inkling of what you two are planning for tonight. You will both eat something before you do. Especially since the last meal was the pastries this morning.”

Darin thought about arguing the point, but then it figured it gave her an excuse to put off her part in the ceremony tonight so sat down without too much of a fuss. It wasn’t long before the server put down a bowl of what looked like fish stew. Darin carefully tried a sip. It was delicious and soon she had finished the whole bowl. She took the roll that came with the soup and used it to mop up the stew she couldn’t get with her spoon. It was how she had always eaten soup or stew. It would probably seem barbaric in some places, but it was how she avoided wasting any food.

Ridahne double checked her supplies. She had candles--plenty to see by--a couple soft clean rags for mopping up extra ink and blood, and she'd retrieved her tattoo kit from her saddlebags down in the stables. She took the opportunity to visit with their horses and Mitaja, the latter of which was sleeping in Tsura's stable like a fat and lazy queen of the barn. The animals were glad for the visit, and especially since Ridahne saw that they got some treats before she left. Her three ink colors were well stocked and her needles sharp and in good condition. The mirror inside the lid of the box was clean and free from dust. She had everything she needed except...water! Of course, how could she forget? Not only did she need it to clean her tools, but the cakes of ink needed to be hydrated.

Ridahne came downstairs and approached the barkeep. "Tavernmaster, I need a cup of water. It has to be the cleanest, purest water you can get your hands on, not from the rain barrel."
The man studied her a moment, wondering why it had to be so specific. But when he took up the mantle as the inn's owner, the previous one had informed him that sometimes Azurei travelers made odd requests, and it was usually best just to humor them rather than try to understand their odd ways. "Aye, I'll see what I can get for you, Azurei."

As she waited, she turned and found Darin at the bar and practically beamed. "Ah! There you are! Do anything interesting today while I was busy?" Ridahne sat beside her and nodded at Mrixe, though she eyed the woman seated beside him. That was a guard, she'd bet money on it, and she also vaguely recalled seeing her the night before. It took everything in her not to groan. Instead she inclined her head towards the woman, and somewhat coldly said, "Hm. Guess one can't leave a snake in their home overnight without it being watched. You never know when it might strike..." There was a note of sarcasm in her voice. She had no plans to stir up any trouble or hurt anyone, but if they wanted to watch her every move and assume she would, then she wanted to remind them that she could. Mrixe was one thing, he had conducted himself especially honorably last night, and had the favor of Darin. And while this new guard hadn't done anything unseemly or wrong, she did not hold quite the same esteem that Mrixe did in Ridahne's mind.

The barkeep returned with a wooden cup of cool, clear water, which Ridahne sniffed and nodded her approval. He came back, however, with a bowl of stew and some bread that he set in front of her. Ridahne almost protested--she had THINGS to do, she did not have time for eating! But then she reasoned that her hand would be steadier with a bit of food in her, so she ate, scooping up little flakes of meat and carrots and potatoes with her bread. She looked to Darin. "I've got to admit, I'm nervous. You seem a little nervous too?" She wasn't sure if that was the right word, but Darin seemed a little quieter than usual.

Darin was about to say hello to Ridahne when Mrixe leaned over the table to stare her straight in the eye, "It's not always about you." He jerked his head towards the human, "Is it?"

Darin found herself staring at Mrixie. Logically she knew that was a reference to the conversation that the two of them had while she had been feeding pastries to the horses this morning. As such she didn’t need to understand it completely. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel like it was directed at her. She had been chewing a bite of her roll, but slowly stopped to just stare at the guard so quick to promise things he didn’t truly understand because it was right. He was right. He was beyond right. It wasn’t about her. She wanted to kick herself because of how stupid she had been acting lately.

She dropped the last bit of her roll as she quickly swallowed, “Excuse me a moment. I’ll be right back.”

With that Darin all but ran out of the inn. She didn’t see Ulice get up to follow only to have Mrixie quickly grab her arm to prevent her from doing so. He quickly shot another glance at RIdahne to keep her from doing the same. Then he grabbed the last bit of the roll and another one to follow the young adult. When he exited, he realized that he couldn’t see her due to the swiftness of her retreat. With a scowl he returned to his place on the bench. He wrapped both of the roll in a napkin.

He asked the warrior, “Is this a habit of hers? To run off in order to avoid showing emotion in front of others?”

Meanwhile Darin had run pass the city and deeper in the forest. A swarm of uloia followed to provide light. Darin collapsed as she wrapped her arms around the trunk of the nearest tree. She then proceeded to be sick. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have been so self-centered? It wasn’t about her. It had never been about her. She wasn’t The Seed-Bearer for her. She was The Seed-Bearer for Astra, for the Children of Astra, for The Gardener and The Tree. She had spent the last however long worried that she was doing it wrong, about what it would be like to be alone, to live practically forever. It wasn’t about that. It was about ensuring that Astra, that the Children of Astra, had the best chance to survive. She couldn’t worry about whether or not she was doing it wrong. She had to worry about what was best for Astra and what she was doing, what she had planned, was what was best of the Children of Astra. That would have to be enough. She slowly got back to her feet. It would have to be enough. She couldn’t start doubting herself now. She couldn’t start worrying about her future now. It wasn’t about her. It was about others, her mother, Ridahne, Thomas and Milla, all the people she thought she might love.

She stood on shaky feet and regretted being sick. Her mouth tasted horrible. She also regretted her desperate flight away from the inn and so deep into the forest. She had no idea how long she had been running and had no idea where she was. Thankfully the trees of Lihaelen were more than willing to lean slightly in the right direction as the uloia floated ahead to light the way. What was she going to tell Ridahne? She needed to stop just running off. It was odd the that the warrior hadn’t followed though it was possible that Mrixie had stopped her. Darin wasn’t sure what to think about that. It seemed to take forever to get back, but that could be because of the fact that she was walking rather than running this time around. That didn’t change the fact that soon she was back at the inn. She lingered for a moment, unsure if she wanted to go in. Would there still be enough time for the Oijh tonight?

That was another thing that wasn’t about her. She had asked for it, and Ridahne had been willing to do the work, to make the change, to risk the ire of the Sols and her people. Darin should be more than willing to do the first strike of that was what Ridahne requested. She should be overjoyed. She should be honored beyond all measured. Yet she couldn’t get rid of the feeling of apprehension that she would do something horrifically wrong. What if she dropped the needle? She had seen them before while RIdahne worked on the tattoo on her calf. There were tiny! Even smaller than the quill she hated. Or what if she accidently poked to hard or not hard enough? Or what if she slipped and poked in the wrong place? Darin began pacing a short distance as she constantly reminded herself that this was an honor. She was not going back in the inn until she believed it.

Ridahne snorted, but didn't reply to Mrixe. What he didn't understand was that if they were there to keep an eye on her, then it was needless babysitting and an insult to her character that they didn't trust her in their city. And if they were there solely to keep guard over Darin, then it implied some measure of distrust of how Ridahne could do her job. A guide around the city to see the sights was one thing, but a night guard? It made it clear to Ridahne that the leadership of Lihaelen neither trusted her to keep the peace, nor did they trust her to protect Darin. She bristled at the thought. She expected as much in her home country where she'd committed terrible sins that could not easily be forgiven. But here? Was there nowhere in Astra where she could gain the trust of its people? In human lands, she was at best an intimidating, otherworldly figure to be avoided. In elvish lands, she was a criminal. She silently gritted her teeth and took a long, slow breath.

You knew this would happen when you did it. You always knew you could never find solace.

Darin suddenly sprang up, uttered some quick apology and bolted out of the room. Caught off guard by the suddenness of it, Ridahne made a move to follow but Mrixe stopped her. The look that she turned on to the soldier was venomous, like a cobra one sudden movement away from striking. If Ridahne cut an imposing figure before, it was amplified tenfold now that the full force of her ire was focused on him. She was a tempest held dangerously still. With all the charm of a growling wolf, she gave him a dangerous look that said "How dare you interfere in our business?" And then he had the audacity to follow after her instead, though he came back inside after only a moment.

"Yes. Very much so." Was her cold answer to Mrixe's question, before she pushed the bench she was seated on back with enough force to make the legs groan against the wood floor and stalked upstairs.

Angry didn't begin to cover what she felt. Anger at the Council, anger at Mrixe, and it took a little longer for her to identify it, but anger at Darin. She understood what the human girl was going through to a degree, with the weight of Astra on her shoulders. And she'd always done what she could to help her. But it was Ridahne's turn to need her. And when that moment had come, Darin abandoned her. A sick, gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal churned inside of her, shape-shifting into hurt and sadness. Ridahne had always been used as a tool, as a pawn in some higher power's game to be cast aside at the users convenience. Darin's sudden disappearance tapped on old wounds not yet healed, and it hurt all the more for the trust she'd laid in Darin. Was she nothing more than a tool?

"No," she said out loud through gritted teeth. She was Ridahne Torzinei, Daughter of the Night Sky, Sol-Slayer, Traitor, Seed-Chained. Guardian. And she would make sure the world knew it, alone if need be. Ridahne took a breath, knelt on the floor in front of where she'd propped her small mirror up onto a chair, picked up her bone needle and said with solemn determination, "Ai jane'ta jane'ta. What's done is done."

--

It took hours for her to finish. She was very proud of her work, though she would not really see how well she'd done until the swelling receded a bit. Her face was a puffy mess all over, but especially on the left side where she'd added the fresh black ink. The intense pain of the procedure had done a lot to dull her own anger, though she wasn't exactly in a good mood when she finished. She'd slathered the area with her special balm and stuck clean white bandages onto it that partly obstructed one eye. If she looked fearsome in her prime, she looked even more so like this, like she'd just fought her way through a hundred soldiers that had all tried to hit her in the face. She did her best to extinguish the lights, crawl into bed and sleep, but the pain and throbbing kept her awake and prevented her from falling into anything more than a hazy waking state of semi-rest.

Darin finally gathered the courage to reenter the inn. It was later than she would like. The tattoo probably wouldn’t happen tonight. Still, she ignored both Ulice and Mrixie as they called out to her. She had already screwed up already. She wasn’t screwing up again. She needed to explain herself to Ridahne before she explained herself to anyone else. Hopefully the warrior would understand. It may not be easy, but she loved Ridahne and couldn’t help but hope that she was loved in return. Was that too much to ask for? Was it too much to hope for? Darin wasn’t sure. She found herself hoping anyways.

As soon as she swung open the door to the room her nose was met with a smell that she knew intimately. It was the balm that RIdahne used to treat the human’s dozens on injuries as they occurred. Was Ridahne okay? Darin hoped so. She took a few steps into the dark room to see the warrior tossing fitfully in bed. The uloia’s reflection in the small mirror, the smell of blood in the air, the burned down candles, were the final clues that Darin needed to understand what had happened tonight. Her hand quickly flew to her mouth to muffle the choked sob. Her mouth tasted awful and had nothing to do with her being sick. She couldn’t be mad. She wasn’t allowed to be mad. It was her fault, her fault. It was always her fault. Why couldn’t ever get it right?

Without another word or sound she left the room again. Try as she might Darin couldn’t get the tears to stop. She couldn’t cry here. She wasn’t allowed to cry at all, but if she was going to cry, she wasn’t going to disturb Ridahne. She headed back down to the man room and out the door. This time she wasn’t fast enough to avoid being followed. Mrixie called after her, but she ignored it. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t care that this was the second time in one night that she had run off. She couldn’t help but flash back to the first few nights they had traveled together. She couldn’t help but flashback to the first few nights after Martin had left. Why was it that she was too much of a coward to face her loved ones?

Finally, Mrixie would be ignored no longer so he grabbed her arm, “Slow down Martian! And talk to me.”

Darin yanked out of his grip as she suddenly turned to rage, “Don’t call me that!” The trees started shaking in response to her anger and she snapped at them, “Oh behave! You don’t have to follow my lead for every stupid thing!”

Mrixie’s experience helped him remain calm, “Just because it has you upset doesn’t mean it’s stupid. What’s wrong?”

Her anger was no longer fire, but it wasn’t gone either, “Go away, and take Ulice with you.”

He responded, “We have a job to do.”

There was the rage again, “WHAT JOB!” She gestured vaguely at the direction of the inn, “Is it to make Ridahne feel untrusted? Is it to crowd her? Why are you here?”

Mrixie seemed to not want to blink, “It’s not about her. It’s about you.”

Darin scoffed, “It’s not about me. It’s never been about me! It never will be about me! It’s about so much more than me!”

Why had it taken her so long to figure that out? Why had she let it take so long? She had taken so long that she may have hurt Ridahne. Ridahne might be mad at her and Darin didn’t know if she could bear the thought of that. She wanted to scream and rage. Luckily the trees weren’t doing it for her. Was there a way to make this right? Would an apology be sufficient? Somehow Darin didn’t think so. She had inadvertently made light of one of Ridahne’s most sacred rituals. There was no going back from that. Why had she let it take so long? Why was she such an idiot? No! It wasn’t about her. She needed to figure out how to make this up to Ridahne. Getting rid of the shadows the warrior didn’t seem to want seemed like a good start.

Mrixie’s eyes had gone wide with horror, “I’m not sure I like the way you said that.” He reached out for her again only to drop his hand when she flinched away, “There’s a difference between selflessness and destructive self-sacrifice. You can’t fill cups if your own is empty.”

Darin repeated herself while looking at anywhere but the older man that genuinely seemed to care, “Go away, and take Ulice with you.”

Mrixie let disappointed sigh, “Very well.” He bowed a bow Darin didn’t recognize, “I will return. Perhaps late tomorrow.”

Then he was gone. Darin was left alone, unsure what she should do. She didn’t want to go back to the inn, back to her mistake, but she didn’t want to worry Ridahne either. In the end she slowly made her way back to where she belonged. She could deal with it. She couldn’t keep just running off. It wasn’t about her. She needed to remember that. She couldn’t afford to let her selfishness get in the way again. If she couldn’t even remember that in regard to Ridahne, how was she going to remember it in regards to the Children of Astra. She took off her boots as entered the inn. Hopefully Ridahne had fallen into a deeper sleep, and Darin didn’t want to wake her. She sat on the bed with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around them. There had to be a way to make this right. She just had to think of it, and she was going to figure it out, before she sought the peace of rest.

Ridahne could hear Darin moving around in the room. She could tell she was trying to be quiet, but she really shouldn't have bothered. Ridahne had sharp hearing anyway, but she'd been trained to keep an ear open and sleep lightly. Not that she'd really slept much anyway that night. Her face just hurt too much for her to really get comfortable.

Ridahne was lying outside in a woven hammock stretched between two palm trees as she occasionally put a flat, smooth rock to her right jawline. Her whole face seemed to burn and the cool touch of the rock was at least some relief. She wished she could go plunge her face into the cool ocean, but she was told that could be bad for her brand new ojih. She didn't hear the fabric door being pushed aside, nor did she hear the soft footsteps in the packed dust coming towards her until her mother laid a cool hand on the unbandaged side of her face. Ridahne looked up. "I can't sleep."
Ikali sighed. "Neither can I."
Ridahne studied her mother. She'd begun to notice she had less energy recently, and wore a drawn expression. She and her father were always whispering about something. "Are you...okay?"
The woman smiled, tossing her black hair behind one shoulder. "It's...just a a bit of pain in my stomach. I'm sure you're in worse pain though," she said, playing it off. "How does it feel?"
"Awful," Ridahne admitted with a little smile. "Feels like someone raked my face into the coral."
Ikali sat beside her daughter on the hammock. "Do you regret it, Isfahan?"
Ridahne gingerly shook her head. "No. I'm very proud of it, even the pain. But...did your face swell this much?"
"Oh, yes. For a couple days. It was very brave of you to go through with it. I'm proud of you, Ridahne."

She was much more used to the pain now. Years of tattooing had toughened her against it for the most part, though no Azurei would ever say it did not hurt to mark an ojih. She just wished that she hurt a little less inside, too.

"Do you remember," she began, her voice low and soft, but cold. "When I first told you what I'd done? I was so ashamed. How could I tell the Seed-Bearer of Astra what kind of criminal I was? Do you have any idea how difficult that was? How much I wanted to deflect, or lie, or do anything but tell you what I'd done? In my mind, I would come clean and tell you, and I thought you would hate me and despise me as the snake everyone thought I was. How could you not? I reasoned that you would cast me aside, you would send me away, and I would be honor bound to return home and submit myself to the executioner's hand. In my mind, if I told you who I was and what I'd done, it would mean my death. And yet I told you anyway."

She had not moved from where she lay on the bed. "Do you remember," she said again, "that you once accused me of running from my problems? Running from my oath to you, from Ajoran, from my responsibilities...do you remember?" She finally sat up, her face now visible in the soft, wavering light of a few uloia. It was so swollen on one side that it nearly looked disfigured under the clean white bandages, now stained with little spots of black or red or some mix of the two where blood or ink had seeped through. "I wanted you to be there, Darin. I wanted you to share that moment with me, because you play such a big part in it. Obviously you didn't want to." Her tone was icy but injured. "The thing is, I don't even care that you didn't want to. Alright, maybe a little. But that's not the point. You wanted no part of it--that much I could read loud and clear. You know, I'd understand. Maybe you felt like it was too sacred for you, an outsider, to be a part of. Maybe you find the whole practice disgusting and couldn't bear to watch me stab myself six thousand times in the face with a piece of goat bone. I get it! You wouldn't be the first to feel that way. I'd have been a little disappointed maybe, but I would have understood, and I wouldn't have blamed you for it. If you'd just told me."

Her eyes seemed to glow in the dim light like two burning embers. "I have laid bare my soul, Darin. I have told you my dark sins and my fears and my hopes and my regrets. I have trusted you to be the one person in this world with power that didn't let me down. I very nearly died for you, and I'd do it again. I still have the scars!" Her voice had risen, but it dropped to a wounded murmur as she said, "And somehow you still don't trust me. You expect vulnerability from me but yet you do not give it to me in return. I am not your servant to be shooed away at your convenience," she said dangerously, tears glinting off the unbandaged half of her face. "I'm your partner. I'm your..."

The words caught in her throat, and though she didn't feel it in the moment, her heart knew it to be true. "I'm your friend, Darin. I'm here to help you. Why don't you see that? And," she added, her disfigured expression turning dark like a prowling wolf, "If you make for that door, so help me I will chase you down and show you my best impression of Mitaja on the hunt."

Darin desperately tried to listen, to hear what Ridahne was saying, rather than just let the words wash over her. Darin just wasn’t sure she understood what Ridahne was saying. Did the Elf think that she didn’t want to be here for the ceremony? That’s what it sounded like. Darin supposed that she couldn’t blame the Azurei for thinking that. She wasn’t sure she understood the bit about vulnerability either. It almost sounded like Ridahne wanted Darin to come crying to her every time she had a crisis of faith. That couldn’t be right, could it? Darin wanted to dart out of the room as she thought this though, but that wasn’t what Ridahne wanted. AS darin thought about she wanted to say she desperately tried to remember that it wasn’t about her, that she couldn’t make excuses, that she needed to be what Ridahne needed her to be. But what was that exactly.

Darin cursed how quiet she sounded, “I was worried that, that, that I would mess it up.” She couldn’t look at RIdahne, “That I would mark somewhere wrong, or, or I would break the needle or drop it or, or something.” She clenched her knees tighter, “But I wanted to be here. I guess I gave up that honor.” She quickly hurried on as her voice got a little bit louder, “Not that I blame you. It’s your choice.” Her volume dropped again, “I guess I should have told you my fears.” Her hands moved from her legs to clutch her skull and hair, “I just don’t understand what you mean when you say I don’t give in return.” Her voice broke, “I thought I was. I don’t understand. I thought I was a decent partner.” She didn’t want to cry, “But I guess I don’t know what it means to be a friend.”

Darin was trying, at least she thought she was trying. She guessed she wasn’t as being giving as much as she thought. She had never had a friend before. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Milla and Thomas were her friends, kind of. They didn’t hate her. Did animals count? Somehow Darin didn’t think so. She also didn’t think that she could be friends with Ridahne the same way she was friends with Thomas and Milla. They didn’t “bare souls” to each other. It was more like Thomas convincing Rolland to let her borrow Heath in exchange for apple pie and rescuing abused dogs together. For as long as Darin could remember, even before her father left, Darin didn’t show vulnerability. She had also dealt with her emotions herself. It made her less of a bother. It made her less of a target. What did Ridahne mean?

She was still struggling not to cry, “I don’t.” She paused to consider her words, this wasn’t about her, “What do you need from me? How do I make this right? Talk to me like I’ve.” She cut that off too, it wasn’t about her, “Please. How do I make this right? What do you mean?”

Once again Darin was struck by the difference in the lives, they had led. Darin wasn’t a warrior, but she had a home to go to if she needed to. Ridahne had no real home to return to, but she could survive on the road by herself. Darin could farm. Ridahne could read and write and use a quill with ease. Ridahne had a brother, and a man who loved her. She had probably even had friends and partners before she did what needed to be done. She had had people to confide in. For Darien it had just been, well it had just been her. There was Thomas and Milla, sure, but there was only so much they could do for the village outcast without drawing the ire of the village elders on themselves. Darin had been trying to follow the model of friendship she had seen others have, but clearly, she was failing. She wanted to do better, but it seemed like Ridahne was going to be a whole lot simpler when saying what she wanted. If the warrior said it Darin would try to do it.

As Darin spoke, the tempest inside Ridahne stilled. She could tell Darin felt terrible about the whole thing and Ridahne didn't necessarily want to make her feel worse. That wasn't her goal. She sat up against the meager headboard and gingerly laid the back of her hand against the bandages and the skin that burned underneath. In comparison, it felt cool, like the splash of an ocean wave on a sun-baked stone. The warrior sighed, long and deeply. It was as much an expression of her emotions as it was a release of the tension she'd been holding all night.

"I would have helped you and guided your hand, you know that. But if you'd just told me...I would have understood. Really, I just wanted you to be there. Not many outsiders even see an ojih ritual, and especially not one that alters the course of Azurei history. Not to mention, this particular one involves you as the Seed Bearer. And I'd be lying to you if I said I wasn't a little disappointed I didn't get to share that with you. And maybe I could have waited but I'd gotten everything all ready, and I was...you know, mentally ready and I just felt like I needed to do it tonight. But that's not why I'm upset. Not really. It's not that you weren't there, it's more that I don't really understand why."

Ridahne paused, searching for the right words. After struggling for a moment, she switched over to Azurian, where she could express her thoughts more clearly and naturally. "You are my friend, Darin. I care about you, fiercely, and not just because you're the hope of Astra. But I need you to be open with me. You ran out on me twice today. That's a habit of yours, running. Something upsets you and you bolt off into the blue like the whole world is just this safe, harmless paradise of solitude. Aside from the logistical dangers of that like getting lost, or running straight into the hands of evil people, running like that doesn't solve your problems. I get needing space to sort out your thoughts, but running from them? Not only does it not help you confront your fears or worries, it alienates those who want nothing more than to help you."

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't even know why you ran off tonight. Was it just the ojih thing? Is there more? I don't know, Darin. Do you not trust me? I'd rather see some ugly side of you than only see your back. And how can I help you and be there for you when you won't let me in?" She fidgeted with a loose thread of her blanket, curling it and uncurling it around her slim fingertip. "I just want you to talk to me. To be honest with me. And...I don't want to feel like a thing intentionally left behind."

She tilted her head back to study a board on the ceiling that was a little lighter than the others, her expression somewhat petulant as she switched back to common Astran. "Anyway, I had all of those thoughts and feelings, and I was going to follow you, but then Mrixe had the gall to interfere and Darin, you would be so proud of me, I did not punch him." There was a note of humor in her voice. "He's a fine enough person on his own," she admitted. "But I chafe at the implication that either I'm a dangerous animal to be handled and managed, or that I'm doing a poor job as Guardian and need someone else to do it for me. That's the other reason I'm upset. Not your fault, but I did sort of snap at you and you deserve to know why."

Darin wanted to ask Ridahne to switch back to Common but managed to refrain. If the Azurei felt more comfortable speaking in her native tongue Darin would not begrudge her. She still struggled to follow along. She was just glad Ridahne was speaking slowly. The Tree’s gift wasn’t perfection. It was just a foundation that Darin could only hope she was doing a good job of building on. She still felt like something was lost in translation, because there was no way that Ridahne was asking her to pour out her heart and soul to the warrior. That would certainly be the first time anyone had asked that of her. At least she managed to get Mrixie to leave them alone for most of tomorrow. That was one good thing.

Still, Darin wasn’t completely sure she knew what Ridahne really wanted. She didn’t want to ask again. She wasn’t sure she could ask again. That might just make it seem like she wasn’t paying attention, and the human really trying to pay attention. She thought Ridahne was asking if Darin really trusted her and that was just a ridiculous thing to ask. Darin trusted her more than she trusted anyone else, her mother included. Still it seemed like she hadn’t managed to get that message across. Darin wasn’t sure how. She felt lost in more ways than one and could only hope that she wouldn’t make things worse.

She gave a small shrug, “I do trust you Ridahne. It’s just.” She paused as she thought. The Elf wanted to know why she had run. Darin could try so she restarted after a brief pause, “I saw my future and I didn’t even realize it.” Her laugh was not a good sound, “One day you will die. My mother will die. Thomas and Milla and Talbot and Taja and all my other important people, whoever they were, are, or will be, will die. Then it will be just me, just Darin, alone waiting for the day when I will hand off another Seed to another Seed-Bearer who sees me as some mythical figure only to watch me die right in front of them.” She gave her head a shake, “And that doesn’t scare me, not like being alone for countless centuries does. And I don’t know why that does. It’s always been just me, just Darin. My mother loved me, but even before my father left, she was devoted to him and never had time for me if he was in the room. Thomas and Milla liked me, but couldn’t afford the elders’ ire, and they just hated me. It’s always just been me.” She was dangerously close to be crying, “I’ve always been okay with that. Then I literally fell into your life, and met you, and Mitaja, and Tsura, and you’re incredible, and I trust you, and I love you. I don’t like the thought of being alone again. I don’t like the thought of losing you.” There was another pause and right when it seemed she had nothing to say she whispered, “If you really are asking me to bare you my soul, to show you my ugly,” The tears dripped down her face, “I don’t know how. I’ve never had anyone to practice with. I couldn’t afford to let anyone see my weakness. The elders would use that against me, or I would be a bother to my mother to brush off the moment he showed up or endanger the few who did care.” She hugged her knees closer to her chest, her knuckles white on her legs, “It’s always just been me.” She suddenly got passionate, as she practically leapt from the bed to slide to her knees on the floor next to Ridahne’s bed, “But it’s not about me anymore. It never was about me. It’s not about my fears or hopes or worries. It’s about Astra and doing what’s best for the Children of Astra. I can’t be selfish anymore. So, tell me what you want, what you need, and I will do my best to do it.” Please Ridahne,” She seemed almost desperate, “Please let me make this right.”

Ridahne sighed, her anger forgotten. Darin didn't know it even as she spoke, but she'd finally come out and done what Ridahne had really wanted all along. Sure, she'd also wanted her to be there for her ritual. She'd been so excited to show her what it was all about, and to have her take part. But Ridahne knew that if they made it to Azurei, and she married Ajoran finally, then she'd have another opportunity. But Ridahne craved honesty more than anything. Until then, she'd assumed that humans just culturally weren't as forward as the Azurei. She new that the Eluri were less blunt than either the Azurei or the Orosi, so perhaps humans tended to see her people as overly vocal compared to themselves. And that might still have some truth, she thought. But she hadn't accounted for Darin's childhood.

Ridahne had a rough and somewhat unstable childhood, but she always had Hadian, and even though she was teased by other kids, she was able to beat them into civility more often than not. What was more, she had her father, at least into her adult years. She hasn't realized that Darin had spent much of her life more or less alone. The warrior marveled at the fact that they'd been traveling together for as long as they had, and yet she was still learning things about her partner.

Ridahne extended a faintly inkstained hand to guide Darin onto the edge of the bed beside her. Ridahne had to fully turn her body in order to see her, as her left eye was mostly obscured by either the bandage, or her swollen face. "Darin, you beautiful fool," Ridahne laughed softly. "That's all I really wanted from you. You've already done it. Just do it...more." Ridahne fidgeted with her hands. "I understand not wanting to be open in front of everyone. But next time instead of just bolting off like a frightened rabbit, tell me what's on your mind. Even if I can't help you, I've found it's useful to tell someone else your thoughts. It helps to order them. And at the very least, I'll know what's bothering you. Because I really thought you just didn't want to be there with me tonight. And I couldn't understand why. But now I know what was on your mind."

There was a silence before Ridahne finally brought up something that she'd been chewing on for a while. She'd thought of different ways to approach it, but she couldn't think of a tactful way to bring it up, so she dove right in. "Your father," she began. "I think he got off too easy, running off the way he did. He never had to see the consequences of what he'd done. But..." There was a wicked gleam of moonlight in her one visible eye. "You do understand that both when I was an eija and eija-alihn, my job was to track people down. People that didn't want to be found. I know we have a job to do. But someday it will be done. And when it is...Nothing would please me more than finding your father. And I will show him fear."

That was what Ridahne wanted? To be made aware of her struggles and thoughts? That was all? It was so strange to the human girl who had been raised to be strong, to rely on no one. To have to keep it inside. To solve the problems on her own, and to go for help only when it was something Darin literally couldn’t deal with on her own. Still if that was what Ridahne wanted the human supposed it wouldn’t hurt to at least try. She had a feeling she would fail more than once before she even succeeded once. The instinct to hide any and all emotion that didn’t serve a purpose was far too strong.

Darin nodded as she joined Ridahne on the bed, “I’ll try.” She shrugged, “I’ll probably get it wrong, but I’ll try.” The Seed burned against her thigh in reminder and The Seed-Bearer was quick to remind them both, “I can’t tell you everything, but I’ll try to tell you what I can.”

Then the warrior mentioned her father and Darin suddenly stilled. It wasn’t like Ridahne was wrong that Darin disagreed with her. Martin, son of Gerald by Alice, didn’t have to see what he had done to Darin or to her mother. She was more than willing to let Ridahne look for the man so that wat the human could break his nose. Darin just wasn’t sure she understood why Ridahne was allowed to hate the people that had hurt her while Darin wasn’t allowed to hate the people that had hurt the warrior. Every time Darin brought up or made mention of her dislike of the Sols Ridahne leapt to to their defense. Granted it wasn’t quite the same thing. They were leaders of an entire country and Martin was just on terrible man, but still, didn’t friends hate the people who had hurt their friends? Darin supposed she should ask Ridahne that question given what she had just promised, but she really didn’t want to have yet another fight about the Sols tonight. Darin gave her head a shake. It wasn’t about her.

Darin’s voice was a soft whisper, “Why are you allowed to hate him, he who hurt me, but I’m not allowed to hate those who hurt you?” She sighed, “You always leap to their defense Ridahne, using logic and facts, and it’s not that your logic is wrong. It’s just hate is very rarely logically, and they hurt my friend.” Her already quiet voice got quieter, “At least I think we are friends.” She resumed a louder volume, “Knowingly or unknowingly they harbored a murderer in their midst and instead of admitting their wrong they got rid of you.” She sighed as she twisted her hands together nervously, “I’m not saying you have to hate them. I’m not saying that justice didn’t have to be followed. I’m just saying that if you get to track down Martin in order to do unspeakable things to him, then when we get to Azurei I should get to get at least be snarky to them. Or show I care more about you then them. Or show them that they don’t impress me. Or have their horse throw them at least once, Or something.” She threw up her hands in exasperation, “That’s what friends do right? I’m not sure, but don’t friends get mad at people that hurt their friends even when the friend won’t?” She shifted to halting Azurei, “I love you as my dearest friend. I think you love me too. If you get to fight my battles I should get to fight yours, even if you don’t realize there’s a battle to be fought.”

Ridahne studied her, her expression unreadable. "So there have been things you've kept from me. I guessed as much, and it seems I've rightly assumed it was because it was knowledge meant for you and you only. I knew not to press about that, at least. I won't sway you, you know what's best. But I am curious." The warrior let it go at that. She was curious, but not enough to pry. That sort of thing was beyond her, anyway.

As Darin spoke, Ridahne was at first resistant. "That's not--" The words stuck in her mouth, brow furrowed as she rapidly thought it over. She didn't need anyone to fight her battles. No one ever had. No one ever needed to. She'd always been her own advocate, she did not need help. But then, with a sigh, she realized Darin did have a point. It wasn't the same, and she hoped Darin understood that. Martin had left because he wanted to, not because Darin or her mother did anything wrong. Ridahne had done something wrong. She'd earned every part of her sentence and there was no question about it. Yet, she realized, Darin probably didn't see it that way, and she probably didn't care.

"Maybe," Ridahne admitted quietly. "It is different though. I broke the law. I murdered three people. I could have appealed to the Sota Sol and told her of Khaltira's corruption, and they would have done an investigation and put her to trial. And if I'd have done that, I might have been hailed as a hero. But I didn't have that time. If I'd waited even one more night, a wounded man would have lost his wife and caretaker, and a little boy would have lost his mother. It's not like I was falsely accused. If I was, I'd tell you to be as angry as you like. But regicide is uh..." she gave a little nervous laugh, "sort of a big deal. I think you are more angry than I am about it because you only see what they did, and I have to live with what I did. More than that, I know what they could have done. If they thought I was a rabid madwoman murderer, they would have sent someone else to find you when I told them of my vision. They would not have assigned my fiancé as my guard. And," she added, "I brought it on myself. I knew what I was getting myself into and accepted it. You...never had a say. And you did nothing to earn it."

Ridahne sighed again, relenting a little. "But it's not like I expect you to love them, or to be particularly nice when you meet them. I likely won't be. I don't harbor any hatred toward them in particular, none but Khaltira," she said with such disdain that her very words felt like poison. If she were not indoors, she would have spat. "But they have no hold over me anymore. I am not theirs, and I will not hold my tongue for their comfort. And they have no hold over you, either. When we stand before them, I will not stop you from speaking your mind."

She went quiet for a moment, visibly churning over what she wanted to say next. Her swollen brow furrowed as she finally admitted, "I'm not sure I know how to sit back and let someone else fight my battles for me. It is not my nature. But...perhaps I could fight them alongside a friend." Ridahne gripped Darin's hand tightly. "I know I deflect a lot, or defend them, or am quick to admit my own guilt. But nevertheless...it's...good to have someone in my corner anyway. Very few people in Astra are."

Darin knew that Ridahne was right. She just didn’t like it. She supposed that she should be grateful that the Sols had decided to be done with Ridahne. That meant she got Ridahne. The Sols honestly didn’t know what they were missing. Though it still didn’t mean that Darin liked them. How had Ridahne been the only one to know what Khaltira was doing? Were the other Sols blind by choice or was the traitor just that good at hiding her crimes? Whatever the answer was Darin wasn’t sure she liked what it said about Azurei culture and laws. She wasn’t sure it was something she wanted The Seed to take into Its Planting. She rubbed at the scar on the palm and back of one of her hands. Maybe Ridahne had a point about law breakers having to be punish.

Suddenly she held up a hand to show Ridahne, “See this?” She laughed a little, “Well, it’s kind of dark so probably not now, but I’m sure you’ve seen it before.” She dropped her hand to her lap to study the old injury as best she could in the dark, “There was a man back home named Phillip. He was a lazy incompetent fool. He was also a bully who was always drunk.” She sighed, “He had this dog named Max. When he was a pup Max was as sweet as could be, but years of training and abuse from Phillip turned him mean. So, Thomas, one of the best men I ever did know even if he is my age, got all us kids together to rescue Max. We bribed a trader in Lively to take him. Well, we weren’t as sneaky as we would have liked. Phillip found out and reported us for theft to the elders. We were a crew and we all lost the privilege of going to the next dance in Lively. The crew leader would get a physical reminder of the crime.” She wrinkled her brow, “It was the first time I asked anyone for help since my father left. I asked all the other crew members save one to lie to the elders. When the elders asked who lead the group Thomas stood to tell the truth. George was the first one to provide a conflicting the story. Then Milla. Then Jess. Then Samuel. Samuel was a terrible liar. That’s when the elders knew which of the two stories was truth, but it was easier to believe the lie, especially when I scoffed at the sheer absurdity of Thomas, Thomas of all people, looking to cause trouble. Of course, Thomas was being noble and self-sacrificing, I mean who did the elders think had caused this much trouble. Who was the only one to ever cause this much trouble? They ran my dominant hand thru with a red-hot poker. They treated it to avoid infection; they were looking to punish me, not torture me. And then Thomas didn’t speak to me for two months. That hurt more than the burn.” She finally turned her attention to Ridahne, “So, I get what you mean when you say that the law has to be follower. Criminals must be punished. What I don’t get now, what I didn’t get then, is why is good considered a crime, just because it conflicts with the law. Why is the law automatically higher than doing what’s right? I know that the law is there to keep order, but sometimes chaos is good.” She shook her head, “I don’t expect an explanation that makes sense from you or anyone. It might be something a little more complicated than a farm girl can understand. I think that because I didn’t understand why getting a victim away from their abuser was less important than theft. I think I will never understand it because I don’t understand how saving an innocent is less important than killing a monster.” Her gaze dropped back down to her hand, “An elder. Nicoli, who’ve I mentioned before, came to my farm a few days later. He told me I had done the right thing. I asked him what thing I had done right. He gently took my burnt hand in mine and said, “You took the fall.” Then he left. Why was there a need to take the fall for a good man trying to do the right thing? Why was there a need to let a good woman trying to do the right thing have just one last conversation with her fiancé? Why will right always be less than the law?” She scoffed, “And I know that you will say that there is a difference between stealing a dog and killing a ruler, but boil it down to its essence oh you warrior who has spent time in the highest courts of Azurei. Think of it not as an Eija or an Eija-Alihn, but as a fisherman’s daughter. Is there a difference between a small right and a big right? Can you really say there is a difference in the abuse of power over others? I am Darin, a famer’s daughter.” She laughed, “I was picked because I am a farmer, soil, sun, water, and seeds. There’s a simplicity there that people seem to be forgetting all across Astra. It’s the simple things I think we need to remember.”

Ridahne gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, if I had a drop of rain for every time I thought about that since, I'd have myself an ocean. Why must those of us who work hard to do what is right be kicked and scorned for doing it? But something I've learned since is that it matters to the law, at least, how we do what we do." She paused, then said, "Do you remember Mark, back in Greyrock? You and I both knew he was a crooked bastard and there was something deeply wrong with him. You knew it because of the Seed, but I knew it down in my bones. You didn't see this part, since I'd sent you away. But that whole tavern was full of people. And that sleaze bag wouldn't leave me alone, he kept asking questions. I wanted to cut off his hand right then and there. But I knew that if I did, the whole town would try and string me up. But there's a custom in most places, human lands included, that if someone else draws steel on you, you're allowed to finish the fight. So I waited. And, I'll admit, I baited him a little. I made him so jumpy, like at any moment I'd swing out my blade and cut off his head. I had my hand on the hilt, I was on the balls of my feet, every muscle tense, but never once did I pull out my own blade, not until he showed his first. As soon as he did, I ended him and his cronies, but I guarantee you the constable and the barkeep and everyone else would have been much more upset than they were if I'd started it. The end result was the same, but I didn't start the fight, so they let us leave."

Idly, she prodded the fresh tattoo under the bandages with a gentle fingertip and grimaced a little. She seemed satisfied by whatever she discovered and said, "I imagine it would have gone differently if you'd gotten the elders on your side first. And for me, if I'd have worked with the Sols, telling them what I knew, in time they would have found her guilty and executed her. They would have asked an eija-alihn to do it. Probably me. Ironic, no? But at the time, the Sols had no way of confirming or denying my accusations. But they could confirm what I'd done. They, like me, had limited time in which to act, so they acted on what they knew. Not that it would have changed much--I'd subverted the law regardless, and there was a better way to do it instead. But," she sighed, "None of that accounts for other circumstances. Like the fact that the dog was probably in terrible shape and near death, or the fact that any delay on my end would mean the death of an innocent woman and the destruction of a family." Ridahne shrugged. "That's the price you pay for society. Society requires order, on the whole. Or else we'd all be killing Sols and stealing dogs for whatever reasons we could tell ourselves to justify it."

Darin let out a disgruntled noise, “I guess. That doesn’t mean that I have to like it. Right is right. I can’t believe we need laws to tell us that.”

Why couldn’t people just know what right and wrong? She had known people that didn’t do something just because it was against the law. The implication was that if it wasn’t illegal, they would totally be doing it. Then there were people that sis what was right despite the law. It seemed to Darin that the law was kind of pointless. Maybe she would look up books about the law at the Archives. Though she doubted that would help. The books today had only made her head hurt. It didn’t help that the words looked like they were swimming and that only got worse the worse her headache got. Reading was one of her least favorite things ever.

She asked a question that completely changed the subject, “Do you think I’ll have to read stuff as The Gardener. I know he wrote letters. Reading is probably something I should practice isn’t it?”

She stuck out her tongue as she let her head fall on Ridahne’s shoulder. She was tired, and probably needed rest, but she could feel that it would be dawn soon. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see the sunrise, but she could sense it. That had nothing to do with being The See-Bearer and everything to do with being a farmer. She woke with the sun. She slept with the sun. Yet, her sleep schedule was all messed up. This was the second night in a row that she hadn’t gotten proper rest. She should probably sleep in, but the thought of that felt so fundamentally wrong that she didn’t even know how to process it.

Darin sighed again, “I should practice a lot of things. I need to control my emotions betters. I need to learn how to talk with kings, and councilpeople, and Sols, and other rulers. I need to practice reading and writing and probably math. There’s so much Ridahne, and time moves so fast. I can’t slow it down even if I wanted to. Is that how you felt, when it became obvious what needed to be done, that there was so much to do and so little time to do it? Did it feel overwhelming?”

It certainly felt overwhelming to Darin right now. She had felt overwhelmed before, when she made the decision to farm the land herself. Those feelings had passed though, once she had the skills necessary to do the job. Would the same thing happen here, in this case? Would Darin fell so overwhelmed until one day she looked around and realized that she hadn’t felt overwhelmed in a long time? That seemed equal parts likely and unlikely and she wasn’t sure which one she wanted it to be. There was a lot that Darin just didn’t know, and she was getting sick and tired of felling that way. There had to be appoint where it leveled out, right?

Ridahne had never considered the fact that the Guardian wrote letters. She supposed, like anyone, he would have people far away he wanted to send messages to, but she'd never heard of anyone who'd received a letter from the Guardian. Maybe only his close friends and national leaders got them. Though she supposed he would have received a great many letters from all over Astra. Did he read them all?

Ridahne shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it, but I guess you would. It's not like you'd be in trouble if you didn't know how to read--there's practically an entire small village of acolytes at the Farm who would be pleased to read messages to you, and dictate them. But I know that's not your style, I just mean you have options. But if you want, we could practice. Alternate nights training to fight--oh yes, I haven't forgotten," she said with what was probably supposed to be a wink, "and practicing reading and writing."

Darin asked about Ridahne's experience the night of her fateful deed, and if it had been overwhelming. The warrior's puffy face twisted a little in a kind of squirming grimace. Disfigured as she was, the expression was profoundly sad. "No. It wasn't overwhelming for me," she said with something that sounded almost like regret. "But then the difference was, for me, I'd been training my whole life for that moment. I'd done it so many times, been trained and drilled and practiced, that when I figured out what had to be done I just..." She gave a shrug. "I just did it. I was a perfect machine of death and of blood and I did what I was made to do. But I think when your time comes to face those challenges, you'll know what to do. At the very least, if you don't, you'll at least know who to ask for help. Sometimes it's good to think of the whole picture, but sometimes you need to focus on the moment at hand, and overcoming one thing at a time. The rest will fall into place," she assured, reaching up to ruffle Darin's sandy hair a bit with a swipe of one hand.