Her words had fallen upon one another in her haste to release them, and her cheeks had grown so bright that one might think her fevered. Young Tarla, it seemed, had never taken a male as would have a warrior of her kalod, and the thought of male and female together caused her embarrassment. Little understanding had I of why this was so, yet my curiosity upon the point was pushed aside by anger. It was expected by the village slave-women that I would fear Ceralt and his punishments, and it was also expected that I attempt to placate him in some manner to ease the pain he would bring. I raised the vellin to my lips and tore a bite from it with my teeth, feeling the warm blood drip from the corner of my mouth. Much pain had I felt in my kalod as a warrior, some brought to me by Ceralt in various ways, yet never had I cringed before the promise of pain, never had I crushed my dignity underfoot to keep the pain from me. I bit again at the vellin, anger rising to fury in its towering strength, and the taste of the vellin grew ashes in my mouth. I threw the meat back to its board with strength, causing a gasp of alarm in Tarla, and looked upon the now-frightened female as the war leader I was.
“Never shall I fear a male,” said I to her, though I wished to shout the words. “Ceralt may lash me if he wishes, yet never shall I beg his use! Never!”
Tarla cringed back in fear, so strongly had my anger come to her, yet my anger was not yet done. Unbidden came the memory of a time with Ceralt, a time when my desire for the male had been so great that I had begged his use as he had demanded. Shame filled me that I might be so weak before the male, as weak as a slave-woman in all her helplessness. I cast the wooden square and the vellin to the floor, rose quickly to my feet, then strode to the window, leaving a frightened Tarla locked in place behind me. Without the dwelling the fey had darkened, strong wind blowing the trees about in anguish. I, too, felt anguish over the place of my capture, and knew that I must soon put the village well behind me.
Silence filled the dwelling for many reckid, then, at last, Tarla again found her voice. “Jalav,” she whispered with a tremor. “I did not mean to . . .”
“Leave me!” I snapped, my eyes unmoving from the grayness beyond the window. No longer had I patience for the folly of the girl. With no more than a pause for the replacing of leg furs, the female left as she had been bidden to do. In scant moments, I saw her hurrying toward the other end of the village, her head low, her hand to her mouth. Undoubtedly there were tears in her eyes as well, yet such a thing meant naught to a warrior. It was well past the time for Jalav to be on her way, and as the chill winds seemed to have driven the village folk within their dwellings, I turned from the window, replaced my own leg furs, then went to the door.
No eyes were upon me as I moved toward the trees beyond the edge of the village. Those within the lanthay enclosure had been well wrapped in the business they were about, and females no longer stood about regarding their doings. The wind blew my hair to a frenzy of flying, yet it came from before me so my vision was unobscured. The hard ground was nearly like rock, so faintly did my trail show in it, yet I, myself, would have followed the track with ease. No need was there to announce my direction of travel with others undoubtedly coming behind me, yet there was no well-leafed branch to hand to cover the track. I paused once I was well among the trees so that I might look about, yet naught met my eye that might be of use. The chill of the air and the greater chill of the wind made me reluctant to accept the sole course of action left to me, yet I had no choice. Amid the swaying branches of leafless trees, I loosened the leather ties of the covering I wore and removed it, then turned with my back to the cutting wind so that I might brush lightly at the ground over which I had walked. Once this was done, I turned my line of march to the south, walking and brushing with as much care and speed as possible.
Some few hind was I able to continue so, my hair held in one hand, my covering in the other, before I was forced to replace the leather garment. My body had first been chilled by the exposure, then warmed somewhat by walking and brushing, yet the passing hind had left naught save a numbness upon me and in my bones, so that I shivered violently even as I attempted to steady my hand for the brushing. I halted and looked about as I tested the wind, knowing full well that I had not been able to secure a weapon for the long journey back to the south. This lack might well mean my life should I come upon the lenga or falth before I had been able to make a spear, yet the matter was far beyond my ability to alter. First I must put many forest lengths between me and the males behind, then I might think upon arming myself against the children of the wild. My stiffened fingers fumbled with the leather garment before I was able to draw it on, my difficulty with it even greater than usual. Much had I grown to hate the confinement of the garment, yet it was clear that one might not survive without it in these lands. I freed my hair of it and drew the bindings tight, securing also the hopper belt about my middle. I had held the belt with the covering, not wishing to cast it aside where it might be found, and now retained it for another reason. Soon would I find the need to hunt, and the metal of the belt might well be used in the fashioning of a spear or in the setting of traps. I felt no regret at having left the vellin Tarla had prepared, though its loss would be felt most keenly upon my journey. The empty woods about proclaimed the scarcity of game, and my former gauntness was most likely to come again and this time stay awhile. I paused only long enough to watch the bright-colored leaves fly about over the ground I had brushed, then I turned once more in the direction of my homeland.
Darkness was not far from descending when I paused again to consider my position. The trees waved less now that the wind had quieted, but the cold had advanced to the point where it had become a gnawing thing, turning my hands and face red with its caress. I shivered in the near darkness, standing close beside a tree as though warmth might be drawn from the cold, dead bark, feeling the throb of my wounds from the constant clenching of my muscles as they attempted to fend off the cold. I had not come as far as I had wished, and darkness would not bring a halt to the march. I could ill afford to sleep through the darkness, buried in some hollow tree trunk, for my pursuers could well discover me through accident so close to the village. It would be necessary to continue the travel, though I knew not whether I might find the strength to continue. For some time my breathing had been coming in gasps, as though through lack of air, and I was forced to lean upon the tree I stood near for support. No longer was I concerned with hunting for I felt no hunger, and the rough, ridged bark of the tree against my cheek caused the burning on my skin to increase before it subsided. My hair stirred slightly where it lay against my thigh, and I, myself, was the only cause of movement I had seen since I had left the village. The bare trees were dark shadows against the dimming gray of the skies, and much did I yearn to build a fire in that cold, empty land.