A woman with brown-green feathered wings stood in front of a washing station built into the interior wall of a large airy barn. She wore a long black dress, covered by an ample white apron that was streaked with red stains. The water in the washing station’s basin was dyed pink as the woman washed her blood-stained hands.

  “Chárlotte!” called another woman with crimson wings that arched from her shoulders and swept behind her, their feathered tips almost touching the ground. She peeped in from the barn door nearby. “Will he be okay?” Her eyes were red from weeping, and her pale face was regaining its color.

  Chárlotte wiped her hands on a less soiled portion of her apron and turned to the speaker. She pushed back her reddish brown hair that had fallen in her face and gave the woman an encouraging smile. “He will be okay as long as infection does not set in, and he refrains from moving. His leg will need to be checked and cleaned to make sure that there are no signs of infection. Be very particular about him not moving or putting weight on his leg for several months.”

  “Several months? But we need to finish winterizing the fields and taking care of the cattle.”

  “I’m sure there are neighbors willing to help with those tasks. If he disrupts the healing process enough, I may have to break the bone again in order to have it grow back. This means he must not fly, no matter how tempted he might be, because the force of the landing will damage his leg.”

  The woman stared at Chárlotte, her eyes pained and welling up with more tears. “He can’t stay still for a couple hours—let alone several months!”

  “If his leg is healing well in a month, he may be able to get around on a crutch. Flying should still be avoided until his leg is healed.” Chárlotte’s voice was firm, but her eyes were gentle and sad. “I know this accident happened at a bad time, but you both have good neighbors and family.”

  “We are blessed in that area, praise Lightness!” said the woman. She sighed, wiped her eyes, and looked at the harvested fields that were supposed to be tilled. “Could you tell him the instructions personally? He might take it more to heart hearing it from you, rather than me. He’s stubborn that way.”

  “I can do that.” Chárlotte gave the woman’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and passed through the barn doorway and into the yard that surrounded it. Raising her skirts a little, she crossed the muddy yard and made her way to the cart on which a man lay. There were no horses attached to the cart; they were grazing in a field close by.

  The man’s pale green wings were outstretched, draping over the cart, and his face was ashen from the pain and blood loss. His right leg was bandaged and carefully splinted so that he could not move it. Seeing Chárlotte’s approaching figure, the man looked relieved and then annoyed as he heard her instructions.

  “This is a death sentence to me, Chárlotte. Surely, you know this!” the man said to her after a few minutes of sorting his emotions.

  Chárlotte nodded. “But this is what must be done, if you wish to function as you used to.”

  “I know, but it is still frustrating.” He looked at his wife, who had followed Chárlotte across the yard and now stood beside her. “Láyra, could you please go over to our neighbors and see who is able to help us over the next couple of weeks?”

  Láyra nodded and walked a few paces away before shooting into the air with a strong, downward stroke of her wings. She flew to the north, where another farmhouse could barely be seen outside the eaves of the forest that loomed in the distance. Beyond the forest, rolling hills swelled to meet the bases of tall mountains.

  Chárlotte turned to the injured man. “I wish you had not sent her off as soon as you did. We still need to get you to the house, and she would have been a great help to me.”

  “My boys will get me there,” the man responded, brushing away her concern with a wave of his hand. “They should be returning from town anytime now.”

  “Very well,” began Chárlotte. “I’ll leave your medicine in the cottage on the kitchen table, then.” She looked at his bandages once more before she made her way to the small house that stood a suitable distance from the barn.

  The stone house was small enough to hold a small family of feyns, as they were called, and was surrounded by a small culinary herb garden. Chárlotte’s eyes brightened as she identified the plants and their uses. Most of the herbs had been allowed to grow until their seed pods were ready for harvesting and were now only dry husks of what they used to be.

  Chárlotte walked past the dying herbs and went inside, into the kitchen whose curtained windows overlooked the garden. On the table lay her leather satchel full of darkly colored glass vials and wooden boxes containing a variety of medicines and tools that Chárlotte always carried with her when making house calls. She started to put together some medications for the farmer and wrote down instructions for him and his wife on how to tend to his leg.

  Today, she had been visiting the feyns who lived near the eaves of the Huntington Forest and worked on the farms that spread out over the Southern Fields. Several of the families in the area had gotten sick with an illness that was spreading through that part of the island, and Chárlotte went to check on them, particularly the children who were being hit the hardest. While she was finishing up at one of the houses, she had gotten an urgent message that one of the farmers had broken his leg and was in serious condition. Upon hearing the news, she had gathered her equipment, slung her satchel over her shoulder, and flew as quickly as possible to the farm.

  The farmer had been in the process of tilling his fields when his horses had started, seeing a snake slithering in the dirt in front of them. In the process of trying to calm them, the farmer was knocked down by one of them, and his lower body was trampled on by its hooves and crushed by the plough that was dragged over him. He was left with a broken leg and bruised ego.

  When she arrived, she had quickly stanched the bloodflow to his leg, set the bone, and sewed together the flesh where the bone had pierced the skin. Thankfully, the bone had broken cleanly.

  “Things could have been much worse,” mumbled Chárlotte as she scribbled some more instructions on the sheet of paper. She had prepared some medicines for the pain and inflammation, as well as some that would encourage his body to heal quickly. When she finished the note, she placed it on the table, weighing it down with a tin of balm and vials of medicine that she had prepared. Then she gathered her things, put them in her satchel, and prepared to leave.

  On the front step, she met the farmer’s sons as they carried their father into the house. She told them the same instructions and warnings as before, re-emphasizing the fact that he must not attempt to fly. In turn, they thanked her for coming to their father’s rescue and promised to bring some of their harvest as payment for her work. Chárlotte bowed in thanks and walked half the distance between the cottage and the barn before stretching out her wings and pushing herself into the air.

  Now that the whole ordeal was over, her hands began to shake and her lips quavered as the anxiety and repulsion that she had repressed for the past couple hours surfaced. Situations like that were infrequent, and she always disliked them. Seeing the pain on the patients’ faces, the blood, and the often grotesque wounds made her stomach lurch. Chárlotte was glad the these reactions to what she witnessed occurred after everything was over, otherwise she would never have succeeded in this profession. Just because she was a physician did not mean that she enjoyed seeing the injuries and harm that she was supposed to mend and heal. More often than not, she was reminded vividly how much she had yet to learn and how still like a child she was. There were some days when she wanted to hide away from it all, but she had to be there for these people – someone had to be willing to do it.

  She brushed back the loose strands of hair that the wind had whipped out of place, tucking them behind her ears, and looked over the island as she flew back home. She smiled, pushing away the day’s pain and heartache, and focused on what she saw before her. The day was done, and she could now go home – even if there was only empty rooms that would greet her upon her return.

  The sun slowly settled in the eastern sky, marking the day’s close. Its golden rays shone across the grey ocean, just barely visible beyond the grim peaks of the Grey Mountains that swept around the island in all directions. What little remaining light that reached over the mountains and into the Valley of the Sun glistened on the large white walls of the city that lay to Chárlotte’s right. Bérnsted was its name, and to the east and the west of it, the city was encircled by two forests, Huntington and Ros’wall. Small homes and villages nestled in the forest shadows, smoke marking their places as it rose steadily from the chimneys and into the rusty evening sky.

  Over the treetops of Huntington Forest, Chárlotte flew, following the path of the stone road below. Her green-brown feathered wings rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Try as she might to tame her hair, the wind kept playing with the strands until she gave up her attempts. At length, she circled a spot above the forest, slowly descending until she disappeared among the branches of the deodars. She landed, her legs taking the brunt of the impact, in front of a quaint two-storied home. Folding her wings, she straightened and looked about.

  She had landed just within the white picket fence that surrounded her garden and home. The trees that towered around the small home left a dappled shade that seemed to dance with the boughs overhead whenever the winds caught them. The garden consisted of mostly empty beds that contained various herbs with medicinal and culinary uses and many rose bushes whose flowers had faded, leaving ruby-colored rose hips on the stems. Here and there were patches of ground where annual and perennial flowering plants grew, but these were either dead or dying, for the frost had killed them. The home, its gently sloping roof covered with needles from the trees overhead, stood at the end of the path before her. Vines had grown to cover most of the house with a thick blanket of green leaves. Black curtains covered the windows, giving the otherwise homey place a rather forlorn look. However, smoke rose out of the kitchen chimney, rising pleasantly into the sky.

  Chárlotte’s face brightened when she saw the smoke. Someone was inside! While it may not be who her heart wished it was, someone was there at least! She approached the front door and turned the brass handle. As she had expected, the lock was not set, and the handle turned. She entered the house and closed the door behind her. Then she put her coat on one of the hooks in the hallway and made her way toward the kitchen further down the hall and to the left. She paused partway down the hall and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

  The black mourning dress that was gathered tightly about her waist contrasted starkly with her pale skin, and it made her face look smaller and more forlorn. A leather satchel hung over her shoulder, across her body, and seemed to be very heavy. Her eyes were darker underneath from lack of sleep and redder than usual from crying. Her brown hair was braided and hung over her shoulder, well past her waist, loose wisps escaping throughout where the wind had tussled it during her flight. An air of tired resignation seemed to hang about her, weighing down, and suffocating her.

  After examining and taking this in for a brief moment, Chárlotte turned away from the mirror. She did not want to see what was going on inside her, despite the glimpse she saw. No matter how much she tried to hide her feelings, they seemed to seep through her body, surrounding her like a cloud and signalling to everyone around her that she was not alright. She sighed.

  Turning away, her gaze fell on the painting of a woman with emerald green wings that hung in the alcove on the opposite wall. Earlier that morning, she had placed beneath it a small vase of white roses to honor the woman the painting depicted. The older woman’s face was wrinkled with immense age, and her smile was serene like a lake that lay in the middle of a forest, undisturbed by time and its changing seasons. Chárlotte felt tears well up inside her eyes, but she had already shed enough. She could not cry no matter how she felt. Sweet, precious memories flooded Chárlotte’s mind as she gazed at the woman's smile.

  “She was so good to take me in,” Chárlotte thought. “I just wish she could have lived longer. There was so much I wanted her to tell me—so much I wanted to tell her...”

  She turned her back on the painting and walked a few feet further till she reached the kitchen. Here a young woman was seated at the kitchen table. She rose at the sight of Chárlotte. She was dark-haired and had deep blue eyes, bluer than the evening sky in the summer. Her feathered wings were a sandy color, gradating to white at the feathers’ tips. She crossed the room quickly and caught Chárlotte in a bear hug.

  “élysia!” exclaimed Chárlotte. “I was not expecting you to be here, but it is such a comfort to see you. I was out making house calls today, and the farmer who lives closer to Bérnsted broke his leg pretty badly. I set the bone and had to stitch up the wound. It was awful!”

  élysia pulled back from Chárlotte, holding her friend at arm’s length. Her keen eyes scanned her friend’s face, noting quickly the unshed tears and reddened eyes. She understood their meaning, and her face grew concerned.

  “That sounds frightful! I knew you were not expecting me, but I was in the area and had to make sure you were all right, despite your insistence,” explained élysia. “You are still grieving, Chárlotte.” Her voice was gentle yet chiding.

  Chárlotte gulped and tried to blink away the tears that had finally come up, the tears that she had repressed inside herself and were only aided by the sights she had seen earlier today. “I can’t help it. She took me in and adopted me when everyone else thought her strange for doing so. She was like a mother to me. Every—every time I come home, I miss her. The emptiness that is here is so hard to get used to, even if it has been only a couple months since her passing. I don’t think I will ever get used to it.”

  élysia put her hand against Chárlotte’s cheek. “With time, you will, and then it will no longer pain you when you think about her. I wish I could help speed up the process, but I cannot. In some things, my knowledge falls dreadfully short.”

  Those words brought a smile to Chárlotte’s face. Then she felt something rubbing against her legs and looked down. élysia’s black cat looked back up at her, its green eyes pleading. The cat threw its weight against Chárlotte’s legs once again, rubbing its back. It turned around and repeated the process, half-rising on its hind legs and letting out a pleading “Mrrow!”

  Chárlotte smiled and laughed at the cat. “Now, now,” she addressed the cat, “I’ll give you some attention.” She bent down and scooped the cat up in her arms, scratching its chin with her fingers. The cat closed its eyes and pushed its chin forward, its purring growing louder.

  élysia smiled and then added, “Roseleaf mentioned to you about the party at her house tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” Chárlotte answered. She stopped petting the cat and asked, “Will there be any strangers there? Roseleaf never told me who the party was for.”

  “Of course, there will be strangers! éltoth of the Three Hills and Firewings of Forest of the Shadows are lodging at the Leafton’s. They are both warriors and very brave men. Since they have just come from the mainland, everyone wants to hear the news they have brought with them.”

  Chárlotte rubbed behind the cat’s ears nervously. “Do you think they will have good news from the mainland?”

  “I do not know,” élysia answered. “Probably not. The rumors over the past two years have been unsettling. I think we can no longer ignore it anymore. We just don’t want to face the fact that something is wrong.”

  “Perhaps they can confirm or disprove our fears,” suggested Chárlotte.

  “That is what everyone is hoping, I am sure,” replied élysia.

  “What do you think about the rumors?”

  “As I have said before, there might be some truth to them. I hate to admit it, but it is the truth,” her friend said. “There is little chance of it not being true. You can expect a lot of talk about the rumors at the party. You are coming, are you not?”

  “I told Roseleaf that I would be,” answered Chárlotte rather reluctantly.

  “Excellent! If you want, I can come over tomorrow morning so that we can get ready together!” said élysia. She paused and laid her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Everything will be fine, Chárlotte.”

  “If you say so,” she conceded. She walked over to the kitchen window and peered out of it. The sun was setting behind the mountains, gilding their edges with orange light. Soon, only a glimmering twilight would remain before night fell. “Do you want to help me get my garden ready for winter, élysia?”

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  “Of course,” responded élysia. “Willowmere’s been predicting a snowfall to occur at any time during the next few days. We might as well save your plants before it arrives.”

  Chárlotte handed élysia an apron to cover her dress and then covered her own as well, pinning the skirt up so that it would not get in her way as she worked. She then led élysia out the back door to the storage shed that stood just behind the house where she kept much of her gardening tools.

  “Let’s first get the rose hips off the bushes before we prune them,” said Chárolette as she grabbed pruning shears from one of the many shelves inside the shed. She handed one to élysia and took up a wicker basket for gathering.

  Together the two went to the front of the house where the rose bushes were and started to snip the rose hips off them, putting them into the basket that they kept between them. After they had harvested all the rose hips, they proceeded to prune the bushes back and added mulch around the bases. Chárolette sang a lullaby in the plant tongue over the rose bushes to put them to sleep and proceeded to cover them with black fabric bags to protect them.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” élysia said as they weeded the flower beds, cleared away the dead plants, and spread mulch over it all. “Plants do not survive with me, and the ones that do are the plants you gave me and check on!”

  “For starters, you are an animal feyn,” Chárolette said, jabbing her friend in the ribs with the blunt end of her trowel. “Your gift is speaking to and handling animals, whereas mine is plants.”

  élysia laughed and raised her dirt-smudged hands in surrender. “Truer words were never spoken! However, I will say there are some feyns with gifts like mine who are good keepers of plants, but sadly they did not share that with me!”

  “Being a plant feyn is certainly helpful when one is a physician. I just wish there was less pain and blood involved in this profession.” Chárolette sighed. “This garden does soothe the weight of everything I’ve seen, but I wish sometimes that I could just putter around here in the dirt and concoct medicines in the kitchen without having to experience all the hurt.”

  “Wouldn’t that be lovely,” agreed élysia. She looked over at some of the herbs that were still very much alive in the beds they had not reached yet and gestured toward them. “Are we pulling those or potting them?”

  “I’d like to pot them,” Chárolette replied. “They should be able to survive the winter if I keep them in the shed.”

  élysia nodded absently, her thoughts seemed to have drifted elsewhere. She pulled herself back into the present and helped Chárolette dig up the plants, pot them, and arrange them on a table that stood beneath a window that ran along the length of the storage shed. The winter sunlight reached this spot throughout the day, making it a great place to keep plants during the colder months.

  After they winterized the garden, élysia and Chárolette cleared the fountain that stood in the yard at the back of the house. Leaves and needles from the surrounding trees had fallen into the fountain and clogged it. After a half-hour, the clear water could be heard laughing as it flowed from the stone lilies’ pistils and overflowed the edges of the stone petals before being caught by the basin beneath.

  “What a pity we have to stop this up in the wintertime,” said Chárlotte as she stepped back to watch the fountain while the twilight let her. “Willowmere did a great job, didn’t she?”

  “She did,” agreed élysia. She bent down underneath the basin and stopped the water, blocking its passage up the fountain.

  Chárlotte opened valves on the other side, letting the water drain out of the basins. The clear water poured, then trickled out onto the ground, spreading out into a pool at their feet before disappearing into the soil.

  The two women remained by the fountain, admiring the work they had accomplished. After several minutes, élysia realized what time it was and said, “Twilight only lasts so long, and it will be dark by the time I get home. I should leave now.”

  So they went inside, cleaned the grime off their hands and faces, removed the aprons, and unpinned their skirts.

  “Good night,” said élysia as she took her cat up in her arms. She paused by the front door and added, “I’ll see you tomorrow in the morning, Chárlotte. I’ll arrive bright and early!” She walked to the gate, as the feyns’ customs were, before she spread her wings and rose into the air.

  “I look forward to it! Until tomorrow!” Chárlotte waved after the departing figure who vanished into the gloom of the falling night sky.

  Slowly, Chárlotte turned back to the house, reluctant to enter the solitude that was now creeping into it. She sighed and continued inside, following the hallway past the kitchen and living room and continuing upstairs to her bedroom. There she got herself ready for bed.

  Bright and clear, the next morning dawned as if to promise that the day would be splendid. A few dark clouds hung over the horizon, but besides that, the rest of the sky was a clear blue. élysia arrived early that morning, shortly after Chárlotte had risen, and prepared breakfast.

  “I’ve brought my forest green dress,” announced élysia as she spread her dress out over Chárlotte’s bed. The dress was gathered at the waist and the skirt fell gracefully on either side, trailing farther in the back than in the front to make landing easier when flying. Gold lace accented the neck and seams, and a sash of the same color as the lace lay nearby, to be worn about the waist or shoulders.

  “It is a beautiful dress,” said Chárlotte as she touched the green silk and admired how the colors complemented each other. “Forest green always suits you, but red is much better.”

  “I thought the red would be a bit too much for tonight’s party,” élysia replied. “What have you chosen to wear?”

  Chárlotte gestured to her closet. “I’m still uncertain. There are too many dresses in there.”

  “Well, that is why I am here to help you out. I’d advise you to wear that white dress with the silver lace and blue embroidery. The white contrasts with the color of your hair,” said élysia as she took out the dress from Chárlotte’s closet and held it out.

  The dress was a lovely satin with silver lace and blue embroidered flowers accenting the bodice, sleeves, and outer skirt. The waist was gathered with a sash, and the skirt was longer in the back than in the front like élysia’s.

  Chárlotte grimaced. “I don’t know if I should wear that. The bodice is lower in the chest than I prefer, and I never took the time to alter it.”

  “That can be remedied.” élysia deposited the dress in her friend’s arms and flew to the dresser, her wings slightly outstretched to counter her momentum. She started pulling open one of the lower drawers with the confidence one only has when the contents of the drawers were known. “You store your undergarments here, right?”

  Chárlotte nodded, but élysia did not see it because her back was already turned toward her. “I think you ought to know where I keep everything,” added Chárlotte with a laugh. “After all, you went through my clothes when I was younger.”

  “I should know them quite well,” élysia laughed. “You have not rearranged your drawers at all over the years.” She continued rummaging through the drawer, pulling various undergarments out. Soon there were several white and silver colored garments lying on Chárlotte’s bed. Some were loose lacy blouses, and others were layered skirt-like garments that went underneath dresses to make flying more modest and comfortable. “One of these should do the trick. This blouse in particular,” élysia said as she played with the lace of one of the blouses, “should make the dress more interesting.”

  “It certainly has made it interesting,” noticed Chárlotte as she reached back to fasten the straps that went above her wings to hold the upper part of the dress in place. Slowly, she turned about in front of the mirror, studying the dress’s effect. “Thanks for the advice, élysia.” She faced her friend and gestured with her arms as if to ask her how she looked.

  élysia watched Chárlotte and smiled. She looked far happier than she had in a while, more confident and beautiful as well. The silver sash held the dress close to her waist, showing off her figure. “You look splendid, Chárlotte,” élysia said sincerely.

  Chárlotte blushed and glanced back at the mirror, pulling the loose curls of hair back out of her face. Then she sat down by her friend on the window seat. “You look good as well,” she said to élysia.

  “Thank you,” élysia replied, blushing in turn.

  “How many people do you think will be there?” Chárlotte asked.

  “Probably all the people in the forests surrounding Bérnsted,” answered élysia. “No one will want to lose an opportunity like this to meet the visitors, learn more about the rumors from the South, and socialize with each other.” She glanced down into the garden below and noted the angle of the tree’s shadows. “We better leave now, or else we will be late!” she exclaimed.

  Hastily, they rose and wrapped their coats about their shoulders, fastening them at their throats. Chárlotte locked the door, and soon the two were flying swiftly above the cobblestone road that led to Bérnsted. The road went through the forest and forked in a wide clearing, named Birch Clearing, because of the birches that grew nearby. At the fork, they landed and took the left road. After walking a certain distance, they reached a lane that joined it.

  “This is where we turn,” said élysia, motioning to Chárlotte to follow her.

  They walked along the pebble lane that slowly widened as they went further. Across their path, the tree’s branches arched gracefully, aglow with lights from the paper lanterns hanging on them. Soon the two reached a tall iron gate that was open to let guests inside. The gate and fences enclosed a green lawn that stretched toward the two-storied house before them. Tall oaks shaded the place, and upon their branches were hung more paper lanterns. The path went past a warm bubbling fountain and led to the house’s pillared veranda, lit with colored lamps and the warm interior lights that shone through its many windows.

  “I feel so nervous!” whispered Chárlotte as they ascended the steps. “I think I never should have accepted the invitation.”

  “Don’t worry,” ordered élysia. “Just remember that this is a party. We are supposed to have fun here!” She gave Chárlotte an encouraging smile.

  Lewy Leafton and his wife greeted them when they entered the lighted and decorated main hall. They looked a little tired from all the small talk they were partaking in, but they smiled warmly when they saw Chárolette and élysia. Both Lewy and his wife had emerald green wings, blonde hair, and sapphire-blue eyes. Their tunics were made of a fine yellow silk and tied about the waist with leather belts.

  “It is a joy to see you, Chárolette,” said Esmar, Lewy's wife, as she clasped Chárolette's hand in hers. “Roseleaf will be delighted to see you! But, first, meet our well-traveled guests.” She gestured to the two men standing nearby.

  éltoth stood beneath one of the lamps that lit the hall. His dark brown hair was neatly cut, framing a frank, handsome face. His eyes were a friendly blue and smiled at Chárlotte when they met. He was clad in a dark blue tunic, held close to his waist by a beautifully crafted leather belt. At his side hung a sword within a sheath, overlaid with gold and engraved with runes. His large white wings were folded behind his back.

  Beside him stood Firewings, a leaner, shorter feyn whose skin was earthy in color. Long red hair was drawn back in a braid that ran down his back. His face was fair, and his green eyes sparkled and flickered in their depths like a young flame. His wings were slender and feathered with brown at the shoulders, shifting to a deep orange at their tips. He was clothed in a deep green tunic and wore a leather belt in which a sheathed dagger had been placed.

  The four feyns exchanged greetings, and the women allowed the men to kiss their hands, as was the custom of the feyns when being introduced. Chárlotte felt embarrassed when she gave éltoth her hand, for she could not meet his eyes without feeling awkward and blushing for he was quite a handsome feyn.

  “May I have the pleasure of a dance, Miss Chárlotte?” éltoth asked as he retained her hand in his.

  For a moment, Chárlotte did not know what to say. She looked for her friend, but élysia was already spinning away on Firewing’s arm. She remembered that it was customary for guests in Sunset Island to dance at least once with any visitors from the mainland. She always disliked the obligatory nature of it all, especially if the feyn’s dancing abilities were unknown and the fact that part of it meant conversing together. “You may,” she said, attempting to meet his eyes.

  éltoth smiled warmly and led her out onto the dance floor. When they began to dance, he said, “Sunset Island is a very pleasant place. It is quite beautiful here.”

  “It is, though I cannot compare it with other places,” replied Chárlotte who was now beginning to feel comfortable as she listened and kept time with the music. “I’ve lived here my entire life, and I love it.”

  “Your friend Roseleaf told me a great deal about you and the Widow while I have stayed here. She says you are a gifted physician, a lovely dancer as I can tell, and a good friend of hers. She had many good things to say about the Widow as well. How is she, by the way?”

  “Roseleaf forgot to mention that Gwenyth the Widow died two months ago,” replied Chárlotte quietly. She felt a little anger rise inside her over her friend’s neglecting to mention that important fact.

  éltoth caught the emotion behind Chárlotte’s tone and quickly tried to rectify his mistake. “I’m sorry... Please forgive me.” éltoth added, “It must still hurt to speak of what happened.”

  “Yes, it does,” admitted Chárlotte. “Losing someone you are close to hurts dreadfully, but Lightness is kind to those who have lost those dear to them.”

  “Indeed, he is,” agreed éltoth.

  For a while, they danced without speaking, for éltoth felt embarrassed at having touched such a sensitive topic, and Chárlotte wanted to keep her emotions under control. Instead, they kept time to the music, dancing quite well together, and eventually, they were confident enough to resume their conversation.

  “Can I ask you about something a little less personal?” éltoth asked as he spun and caught her again.

  “Certainly.” Chárolette felt her curiosity rise. She was starting to feel more comfortable, and éltoth’s dancing was not disappointing. Rather she felt she had never met another feyn who could keep time with the music or communicate his intent as well as he did. He was thoughtful in his movements and seemed to float across the room as if he were a cloud borne on the wind.

  “The customs of Sunset Island are rather strange,” began éltoth again. “Firewings and I came here to lodge, and shortly afterward, we discovered that our hosts were holding a party in our honor. It is all very peculiar, for it is not done so in the Three Hills or anywhere else on the mainland. And I’ve probably danced with nearly every lady at this party which is another custom I am not familiar with. Is it always so here?”

  “It is our custom. We travel mostly on the island, hardly venturing to the mainland,” explained Chárlotte, “and feyns from the mainland, likewise, rarely visit the interior of the island. Most mainlanders stay in the port cities where the ships are. Therefore, when someone does visit the island and travels inland, we hold a party so that everyone can come and hear what is happening in the world outside. We enjoy it dearly.”

  “You all seem to. I have been poked and prodded all evening to tell what happens in the Three Hills. I’m honestly exhausted.”

  Chárlotte laughed at his words. “Hopefully, they have not prodded you too much! I cannot begin to imagine how taxing it would be to dance with all the guests and be pecked by them.”

  “I can’t tell if I will survive the night, to be frank.” éltoth smiled at her and added, “Though I am starting to feel quite rejuvenated with our dance. Has anyone ever told you that you are a good dancer? This is probably the best dance I’ve had all night!”

  “I feel that your praise is a little too generous. A couple feyns have told me so, but I don’t go to parties often enough for more to comment on it.”

  “That is a pity.” He led Chárolette through another spin, leading her behind him, and spinning her back toward him. The movement brought a smile to Chárolette’s lips, and her eyes gleamed!

  “What brings you here to Bérnsted, éltoth? You’ve probably been prodded about it all night,” Chárolette had, at last, gathered her courage to ask. “There are rumors that have reached even this far that have unsettled our hearts. Do you know anything regarding them?” Inquisitively, she looked up at him.

  éltoth gazed into the dark brown eyes that stared up at him out of the youthful face framed with red-brown curls. As he looked at the lovely woman on his arm, he felt torn between revealing his purpose and concealing it. Then in a low, careful voice, he began: “I am here with my friend because of what you have just spoken of. The rumors that have been reaching your ears are true. Though calling them rumors after nearly half a decade of hearing them seems improper. There is no time to waste any longer because our enemy is moving, spreading its harsh black wings toward the Lóngeena River. If you are curious to learn more, we will be sharing what we know in the fire room later this evening.”

  Chárlotte felt as if she had been struck by a blow. What she had dreaded was being fulfilled! If the rumors that had been spreading for the past five years were true, then their hopes were gone! She sighed within herself as she thought about what this news meant: all the world would soon be at war – swallowed up in the chaos, blood, and ruin that accompanied it! Suddenly, Chárlotte keenly desired to have nothing to do with what was happening. She wanted to hide – run away – from it, but she knew deep down inside that she couldn’t. She sighed and said nothing in reply. Her forehead furrowed, and her mouth became a firm, thin line.

  Her companion did not pursue further conversation after seeing the change in her demeanor. éltoth perceived that she was troubled, and he had seen many like her over the months of travel on the mainland. He had discovered that some things were best left alone.

  Soon afterward, the music stopped playing, and Chárlotte excused herself. éltoth went and joined Lewy and some other men in a game of wits, a contest to see who was the smartest, that was taking part at the other end of the room, near the minstrels. Chárlotte found a chair in a quiet corner at the opposite end of the dancing hall and sank into it.

  She was in a large rectangular room where the dancing was happening. The walls were covered with embroidered tapestries, and the room was illuminated by delicate silver lamps. Two rows of pillars went down the length of the room, near the walls, supporting the ceiling. At one end, the minstrels were playing their instruments, mostly stringed and wind instruments. Older feyns sat behind the pillars, watching the dancing and conversing together in soft voices. The younger feyns sat or stood about the large room, either talking or waiting for a dance. Halfway down the room on the side opposite Chárlotte’s seat, there was an open doorway leading to the fire room. Already, a few people were beginning to congregate in it.

  Thank you!

  Thank you again!