Whitney Writes…

The wind whistled through the high branches of the trees. With a wave of her hand, the lower branches and the brush parted before Visenya. The sunlight sifting through the branches was warm upon her skin. When the trees ended abruptly, she found herself on the edge of a rocky cliff. The sky faded from sapphire blue to a deep crimson. A large beast appeared before her, it’s massive form blocking her view. The beast had horns as thick as ancient trees, teeth the length of swords.

A wing was extended down to her and Visenya climbed on the beast’s back.  “Fly,” she commanded in a low voice.  The dragon soared north, moving faster than she had thought possible.  Within moments, a city appeared but it was like nothing Visenya had ever seen before.  It was not like the stone city of Markarth that she had only seen from high up in the rocky cliffs.  This had massive structures made of cut stone and painted wood.  It sat upon a bridge of rock, soaring out into the gulf.  At the floating end was a structure with four, large, rotating wings.

Did the Nords have flying buildings then? She wondered, surely Papa would have told us of this.

The beast beneath her rumbled a question and Visenya listened intently.  She was shocked to discover she could understand the creature.

“Yes,” she commanded, “burn it to the ground.  All of it.”  The dragon roared in approval and dipped low as it glided through the air down the sheer side of the mountains.  Visenya held tightly to the beast’s scaly neck as the wind blew in her face and tore at her auburn hair.

As the city drew near, the dragon reared back its massive head and roared again.  Its voice shook Visenya’s very bones and she could see boulders falling in the mountains from it.  A rumbling began deep within the beast and a word seared into Visenya’s brain: yol, fire.  A river of flame erupted from its enormous jaws.  Soon all the strictures were glowing bright with flames.  She could hear the crackling of the Nordic wooden buildings collapsing and burning, smell the smoke, hear the people screaming in terror.

 Visenya laughed.

Screams echoed through the night air and an urgent hand shook Visenya awake. She rubbed her eyes sleepily. They felt as though they had sand in them. Surely it was not morning, she felt as if she had only been sleeping for a few hours.

“Nya,” whispered a tiny voice, “Nya, Nya, Nya, wake up!”  Visenya shot bolt up-right, panic engulfing her.  She thought she had earned her night free of these little monsters…

“What’s wrong, Ynara?” Visenya asked groggily, rubbing her eyes again.  “Did you have a bad dream again?

“No, but you were,” her eight-year-old niece said.

“Mmm… that’s nice,” Visenya murmured, patting the girl’s brown curls, she moved to lie back down.

Ynara shook her aunt again, violently this time, “No, Nya,” she wailed, “you can’t!  You just can’t, Nya!  Nana sent us for you!”

Visenya looked around, confused, and then spotted the other three girls behind Ynara.  Three-year-old identical twin girls, Elyf and Elsa, were holding the hands of two-year-old Arwyn between them.  She held out her arms and all four of her nieces climbed into her lap.

“What’s going on then?” Visenya asked softly, resting her cheek against Arwyn’s downy soft dark hair.

“Auntie Shavon,” Elyf began.

“Baby’s coming,” Elsa finished.

Visenya’s brow furrowed. She murmured, “But it isn’t time.”

“Auntie and baby,” Elsa started.

“Don’t care,” Elyf sighed with a shrug.

Visenya sighed, she wasn’t sure what anyone was expecting her to do about it.  She wasn’t the Tribe Mother, after all.  “You said Nana sent you?” she asked finally after a moment of thought.  All four little up-turned faces nodded vigorously at her.  “Well, we mustn’t keep her waiting now must we?”  She unfolded herself from her pile of furs, nieces scattering everywhere.  “Wrap up, girls,” she said, pulling out their spare fur cloaks from a basket.  She helped each girl fasten her cloak then did her own.  “Come on, ducklings,” Visenya called lightly, “let’s go find Nana and the Aunties.”

She stepped out of her yurt and was assaulted by the freezing air, snow flittering lazily on the still air.  A tiny hand slid into her own and Visenya glanced back to see her nieces streaming out of her yurt behind her.  Elyf’s hand had slid into her own, Elyf had taken Arwyn’s in her other, Arwyn clutched Elsa’s, and Elsa held tight to Ynara.

“Good girls,” Visenya praised them with a warm heart.

“Welcome, Nya!” Arwyn chirped.

Visenya smiled, she rarely had to remind them to do this any longer.  It was automatic for them.  Her nieces listened better to her than they did to any of their mothers.  She gave Elyf’s hand a gentle squeeze and started off into the night.  A frozen baby, an interesting omen; she wondered what it meant.  She would have to remember to ask her grandmother at a later time.

They came upon Cadin and Shavon’s yurt then, Visenya would have known it by the screams were she an outsider.  Her brother was nowhere to be see; surely he hadn’t left his young wife to struggle on her own.  She saw no other members of her family milling about; which was extremely unusual for an Druadac clan birth, it usually meant a grand feast.  Well, for all save the poor woman in labor.  Visenya bit her lip and against her better judgment, motioned to Ynara.

“You’re in charge,” Visenya whispered to her, “I’ve no idea what they wish of me, so I don’t know how long I’ll be.  Keep the little ones warm; but whatever you do, no matter what you hear, do not come in this yurt, Ynara.  Do you understand me?”  Ynara nodded vigorously at her aunt’s words.  Visenya nodded in satisfaction.  “Good, I’ll be back. Stay. Here.”

She was greeted by hot, stale air and the metallic scent of blood.  Visenya suppressed her gag-reflex and cleared her throat, “Grandmother,” she ventured quietly, “I’ve come.” Shavon was wailing on her pallet in the corner, her normally beautiful face twisted into a scream of utter torment.  Thank the gods I had the girls wait outside, Visenya thought.

“Good,” Vynara said in a huff, “we need all the help we can get.”

“What can I do?” Visenya asked softly.

“I think it’s stuck,” Shavon whimpered.

“Shh, dear,” Vynara patted the girl’s thigh.  She turned to Visenya, “The babe is facing the wrong way, and Dyra will have to turn it.”

“I’ll have to do what?” Dyra demanded.

“Oh hush, girl,” Vynara snapped at her daughter.

Visenya eyed her aunt who was growing paler by the second.

“I can’t do that,” Dyra murmured, her face as though she had seen a ghost.  “I won’t do that, not again!”

“Do you wish Shavon and the babe to die?” Vynara snapped angrily.

“What?” Shavon suddenly wailed.

“Hush,” Visenya whispered, rushing forward to cradle Shavon’s head.  “Nana didn’t mean that, she’s just trying to convince Auntie.”

“I won’t be responsible for that out come a second time,” Dyra vowed.

“The last time didn’t go so well, but it wasn’t terrible either,” Vynara chided; motioning to her blood-granddaughter; Visenya finally realized the problem: they were referring to her birth.  “So you lost Ysa that day,” Vynara was saying gently to her daughter, “but you saved our Nya.”

“I shouldn’t have had to choose,” Dyra said firmly.

Visenya closed her eyes, squeezing Shavon’s hand; Dyra was wasting valuable time.  “So now you’ll damn them both by choosing not to choose?” Visenya erupted.  “Isn’t that worse, Auntie?”

Dyra’s face blanched as she stared in shock at her niece. Her lips twisted, and her mouth opened and closed, as though she were trying to summon the words to speak.

“We all know my birth was different.  I’m not normal; you all pretend I am, but I see how you look at in me in fear!  My mother was never going to survive my birth, Auntie, and it had nothing to do with what you did.  Nothing you may have done would have made any difference in the end.  It was my fault, it’s always been mine!” 

Visenya brushed her grandmother’s hand from her shoulder, “It’s because I have Briar Heart blood coursing through my veins.  I’m a monster, an abomination; that is why my mother died, not your skills as Tribe Mother.”  She took a breath to calm herself.  “Now,” Visenya continued, “are you going to turn Shavon’s baby or not?”

Dyra stared at her niece in shock at her tone.  “I can’t,” she said simply and got up and left the yurt.  Shavon began wailing once more, this time in desperation.  Visenya rubbed her arm soothingly, hoping to reassure her.

“Nya, I hate to ask,” Vynara began.

“You don’t have to, Nana.”

“Oh, Nya, no,” Shavon pleaded.

“It will be alright, Shavon,” Visenya murmured.

Vynara took Shavon’s other hand at the look of panic appearing on Shavon’s face.  “Trust me, dear,” she murmured, “it will be better for both of you this way.”

Visenya closed her eyes and focused her mind’s eye upon the life-force within Shavon.  She sensed the baby was distressed.  She sent a calm and reassuring aura around the baby and felt its heart rate return to a more normal pace.  Slowly Visenya began to twirl her finger in a circle mid-air.

Shavon’s hand tightened around hers, yet she did not cry out, so Visenya knew it was working.

“Almost there,” she whispered.

“You’re doing beautifully, Shavon,” Vynara said encouragingly.

“Alright,” Visenya nodded and opened her eyes, “go ahead and push, Shavon.”

Within moments, Visenya was catching a tiny baby girl in the furs she had ready.  She handed her newest niece over to Shavon and stood from where she’d knelt for the past hour.  A wave of light-headedness washed over her and Visenya hurried from the yurt; she needed fresh air, and quickly.

The sun was just beginning to peak over the eastern mountains.  It glistened off the frost clinging to the tall grass and juniper branches.  A cool breeze embraced her and slowly Visenya began to feel refreshed.  She glanced around and did not see any of her nieces where she’d left them.

Visenya pushed the early sprouting of panic back deep down inside of her and closed her eyes.  She sorted through the various life forms she sensed around her.  Cadin, her brother and Shavon’s husband, was running toward her.  Orin and Odessa were fighting, again, in the yurt to her left.  Ronan and Ardan were… well, she quickly moved on from them.  Finally, she found them: four little auras in her yurt, safe and sound.

She was not surprised to see Asha, her favorite cousin, curled up with the girls when she entered her yurt.

Asha raised her golden head, “Nya,” she murmured, “come lie down with us, you must be exhausted.”

Visenya curled gratefully around Asha and fell into a deep sleep.