LAIRA

Warmth.

Safety.

Love.

For several days now, these strangers—these foreign feelings, these new spirits—surrounded her. And for several days now, Laira had been scared.

Life in the escarpment felt like a dream, like a strand of gossamer trembling in the wind, ephemeral, vanishing when the light caught it wrong. She spent nights in a cave by a fire, not a muddy pen of dogs. She ate real food—stews of wild game and mushrooms, bowls of berries, apples, wild grains—and not once did she root in the mud for bones or peels. No one beat her here. No one scolded her. Jeid and Eranor told her tales by the fire, wrapped warm blankets around her at night, and tended to her wounds. They treated her not as a creature, but as a friend.

And Laira had never felt more afraid.

Love and warmth. These were new feelings for her. She didn't think she was worthy of this love. Whenever Jeid approached with a bowl of stew, she expected him to toss it at her, not serve it to her. Whenever Eranor approached with healing herbs, she flinched, expecting him to strike her, not heal her.

"I'm not worthy of love," she would whisper every night, curled up in the cave, the fire warming her. "I'm ugly. I'm deformed." She shivered. "Why do they love me so?"

Every morning she expected it to end—to wake up, to realize it had been a dream, a cruel joke, a trap. She kept waiting for Zerra to step out from a cave, to reveal that he'd been working with Jeid and Eranor all along, to shout, "Maggot, how dare you flee me?"

One night as she lay shivering, thinking these thoughts, she heard Eranor and Jeid whispering above her. They thought she was asleep, but how could Laira sleep? How could she dare sleep when so many nightmares filled her—visions of her mother burning, of Shedah and her leechcraft, of Zerra and his fists? And so she lay still, eyes closed, and listened.

"The poor child," said Eranor, and she could imagine the old druid stroking his white beard. "When will we see her smile?"

Jeid sighed. "My brother shattered her jaw. Maybe she can no longer smile."

"She could smile with her eyes, but still they are sad." Eranor too sighed. "I can heal the wounds of the body. The wounds in her soul run deeper. Those may never heal."

Jeid grunted. "To heal wounds, first the poison must seep out. Healing hurts. Her soul is healing now and it pains her. And I promise to the stars: I will protect her. I will keep her safe until she is healed."