Normality returned to the village quickly. Ilza was buried, and Norma agreed to wet-nurse Illara. Theo took to fatherhood as best he could; at night, I heard him cry himself to sleep.

  I decided to follow Illara—to be a witness at her side. Part of me felt responsible for Ilza’s death. I did not know if my thoughts could make anything happen here, and the possibility was a horror I would not test.

  Illara slept in her crib. Theo sat nearby, speaking with Norma in a low voice.

  “I don’t think I can marry again,” he said. “Not after Ilza. I can’t imagine loving anyone else. Besides, there aren’t many women my age who aren’t already married, and I feel a duty to raise Ilza’s child. I won’t leave the village until she’s grown.”

  Norma started to answer, then closed her mouth and waited.

  After a moment, Theo went on. “I know she isn’t my blood, but I love Illara as my own. I’d do anything for her.”

  “How did you know?” Norma asked.

  “I knew Ilza was further along than she should’ve been if we’d conceived together.”

  “I think a lot of people here suspect, but don’t know for sure,” Norma said.

  “That’s fine,” Theo said. “I won’t confirm it. As far as I’m concerned, Illara might as well be my daughter. If Chris ever comes back, tell him he isn’t her father.”

  “I don’t think we’ll see Chris again,” Norma said. “But if he asks, I’ll tell him so.”

  Relief softened Theo’s face.

  “I’d better be off,” Norma said lightly. “My own children need me. I’ll be back in a few hours to take Illara for the night. Bring her over if she gets hungry before then.”

  “Thanks, Norma. I appreciate it.”

  When she had gone, Theo sat beside the crib and watched Illara sleep. He smiled, faint and tired. A single tear slipped down his cheek.

  Norma closed the door softly behind her. In the yard, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and did not look back.

  A few years later, Gareth returned to the village with Cain and Jenna. Jenna looked to be with child. Gareth had lost his right arm. Cain seemed unchanged. Illara was three.

  Franchesca ran to him and wrapped him in a hug.

  “I’m so happy to see you alive, my son. I was afraid I’d lost you. Thank you, Cain—and you, Jenna—for bringing him home.”

  “You’re welcome, Franchesca,” Cain said. “If not for Gareth, we might never have come back to this quiet place. It’s a good village to settle—good enough to start a family.”

  “You can let go of me now, Mum,” Gareth said, embarrassed.

  She released him.

  “I can help Father on the farm,” Gareth said. “I couldn’t afford to have the arm restored. Most days I barely broke even.”

  Franchesca’s smile tightened. “You’ll manage. You always had the sense to figure things out.”

  “We’ll go see Athelmod and get settled,” Jenna said.

  I followed them to Athelmod’s door. Cain knocked. From inside: “Coming!”

  Athelmod opened with a broad smile. “It’s good to see you both again. I’m glad for the chance to have you stay. A live-in cleric will help the village’s health immensely.”

  “And a capable fighter too, I hope,” Cain said.

  “I’ve set aside the guest house for you,” Athelmod said. “We’ll build a purpose-made one this year. Cain, if you can spare time, we’d welcome your help.”

  “I’ll try. I’m no builder or farmer.”

  “At the very least you can haul heavy loads and hunt,” Athelmod said, grinning. “Do you need me to show you the house?”

  “We’re all right. We know it,” Cain said.

  “Good. We left a few gifts inside. I hope you’ll enjoy them.”

  They left together. On the way, they passed Theo’s place. Ash was outside, playing with Illara.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Jenna lifted a hand. “Hello there! We haven’t met. We’ll be in the guest house. I’m Jenna.”

  Ash looked up. His eyes went wide at Cain’s sword and Jenna’s mace. He scooped Illara into his arms and ran inside.

  “Am I that scary?” Jenna asked.

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Cain said. “The other children don’t run from us.”

  A moment later, Theo stepped out, relief on his face.

  “Good to see you again,” Cain said. “Your house?”

  Theo nodded. “Yes. I take it you met Ash and Illara.”

  “Sorry to frighten him,” Jenna said. “We only wanted to introduce ourselves. We’ll be neighbours.”

  “We found Ash three winters ago, just before Illara was born,” Theo said. “He hasn’t spoken since. He’s begun to trust me and my mother, though. He treats Illara like a little sister, and he’s very protective.”

  “Whose daughter is Illara?” Jenna asked.

  “She’s mine,” Theo said.

  “And her mother?”

  “Ilza died in childbirth,” Theo said, squinting against a feeling he couldn’t hide.

  “I’m sorry,” Jenna said softly. “Are you doing all right?”

  “Better now,” Theo said. “It’s taken time.”

  “Well, if you need anything, we’re next door,” Jenna said.

  “Thank you. I will.”

  They parted, and I watched the three of them—fighter, cleric, and widower—go their separate ways beneath the afternoon light.

  Three years later, Illara turned six. She played most days with Sera, Norma’s girl. I often saw them marching with sticks, solemn soldiers on patrol. Now and then I followed Cain into the forest. He moved almost without sound and never came back empty-handed.

  I watched Jenna oversee the building of a temple to Solvarn, which would also serve as guest lodging when people came to help with the harvest. It was built from local timber but held more windows than any house in the village—an A-frame with panes up to the eaves, set to catch the morning sun.

  Today I watched Jenna speak with Illara in the temple.

  “Solvarn is a just god,” Jenna said. “He helps us in healing and in the fields. He stands firm against evil and the undead.”

  “Do you think I could be like you when I grow up?” Illara asked.

  “Yes,” Jenna said. “With training you could be stronger than me. Keep to the path of righteousness and smite evil, and Solvarn will smile on you and grant you miracles.”

  Illara looked at her, eyes bright.

  “I’ll speak to your dad,” Jenna said. “If he agrees, I’ll take you as my apprentice. Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yes please.”

  I considered the teaching of children in a world like this. If gods are real, why wouldn’t people worship them—especially if they grant power? But how does anyone choose a god? I had no answers. Perhaps, if I watched Illara’s faith take shape, I would learn something. Dust turned to gold in the slant of the morning light, and she listened as if the light itself were a voice.

  By ten, Illara was apprenticed to Jenna. She helped with the daily rites and had begun to heal small cuts with miracles. I watched her now as she closed a shallow scratch on Cain’s forearm.

  “Thanks, Illara. I appreciate it,” Cain said kindly.

  “She’s learning fast. I’m proud of her,” Jenna said, smiling.

  “Cain, would you teach me to hunt?” Illara asked brightly. “I want to learn the bow so I can help provide for the village.”

  Taken aback, Cain said, “Is being a cleric boring you already?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “But I want to learn more than healing. I think hunting would be interesting. I overhear your stories when you visit the temple.”

  “You know I only tell the interesting bits,” Cain said. “Most of hunting is waiting quietly, being bored.”

  “I still want to try. I’ve been talking to Sera, she wants to learn too.”

  “All right, all right,” Cain said. “I’ll speak to both your parents and get their permission. Jenna, can you spare Illara a few days each week?”

  “Yes,” Jenna said. “I can manage. If she follows this path, she’ll have a useful mix of skills. But don’t forget, Illara—keep your faith in Solvarn foremost. His light is the source of your miracles.”

  Illara nodded, eyes bright. The scratch on Cain’s arm had already faded to a pale line.

  By fourteen, Illara and Sera had four years of training with Cain behind them, while Illara kept learning under Jenna. She was now sure with a bow, and comfortable with mace and shield.

  “Ready for your first hunt, Illara? Sera?” Cain asked.

  “Yes!” Sera almost shouted.

  “I can’t wait,” Illara said. “Dad packed bread he baked for all of us.”

  I followed as they slipped into the forest, the two girls talking in quick, bright whispers. The trees and the damp earth brought back an old memory of game nights—random rolls, a party hunting deer, luck deciding whether they found sign at all.

  “Quiet now,” Cain murmured. “We don’t want to scare our prey.” He pointed to a scatter of brown pellets. “We’re in luck, deer droppings.”

  Both girls crouched to look.

  “And see that fern?” Cain went on. “Browsed clean and bent away from us. They went that way.”

  They moved through the brush with care, lifting their feet over deadfall instead of snapping it.

  Cain knelt and tapped a sharp print in soft ground. “They must have passed through recently. See how the edge holds and the depth’s still wet? You find them like this in little patches of mud.”

  Both girls nodded.

  “Right, nock an arrow, but keep the string relaxed.”

  They unslung their bows and nocked, fingers resting lightly.

  Cain led them on a little further. I saw the deer first, a stag with three does, then Cain saw them too and pointed.

  “Stay downwind,” he whispered. “Keep the wind in your face. Let the moss tell you.” He dropped a tuft and watched it drift. “This way.”

  They circled until the air moved toward them from the deer. Then they inched forward, slow as breath.

  “When you’re close enough for a clean shot, take it,” Cain said. “Mind the stag, he’ll charge if he’s roused. Aim for the heart.”

  At about twenty metres they stopped. Two bows drew in one smooth motion. The arrows flew. Both struck cleanly, and two does folded where they stood.

  The stag bellowed and came at them.

  Cain was already moving. He stepped into the line of the charge, raised his shield, and turned the antlers aside. His sword went in short and sure behind the shoulder. The stag crashed down, the light leaving his eyes.

  “Well done,” Cain said quietly. “Next time, try the stag first. Now, let’s dress them before the meat warms.”

  They drew their knives and worked in silence. Illara bowed her head.

  “Thank you, Halwen, for these lives that will sustain us.”

  The wind moved through the high leaves. The forest took the sound and gave back only its own hush.