by C. Greenwood
***
The events that followed were a hazy blur to me. I slept among the thorny leaves for what seemed like days, but might only have been hours, until the neighbor my Da had trusted came to discover what had become of our homestead. Master Borlan found me among the trees and carried me back to his home. I recovered from the effects of the thorn bush’s toxin and Master Borlan’s family kept me hidden in a cellar beneath their farmhouse for weeks, so I survived the cruel times that destroyed most of the magickers in the province.
I leaned all this when it was later recounted by Master Borlan, but I couldn’t have been above six years old and my memory holds little record of that dangerous time. I don’t recall the fear I must have felt cowering in the dark of the cellar or the fading fever and partial paralysis as the toxin worked its way out of my body. I have no memory of the fearful, whispered conversations that must have taken place over my head, nor could I have had any comprehension of the grave risk Da’s friend took upon himself and his family in protecting me from the soldiers determined to wipe out my people.
But of this I must have been aware. My future was uncertain and I was very much alone.
CHAPTER TWO