Chapter 1

Warm valley breezes swept though the pine forests mingling the resin with the sweet scent of melting snow, the onset of spring sweeping though the little valley to all those open to its promise. In the silence of the waking forest one sound rose over the gentle winds, the hollow tinkering of the wooden charms tied into the fair hair of a solitary figure sitting so still by the creek side that but for her gentle breathing one would have thought her part of the scenery. This little creek began at a spring only a few yards from where this girl sat. This spring was the source of life for her little village in the valley, for even in the coldest of winters the spring would not freeze, far down the mountain side it emptied into a large lake that very few from their small village had ever seen, the shaman who would first venture into the kingdom at the bottom of their mountain to prove themselves worthy, and then every spring thereafter to trade the villages extra wool and sheep skins.

During the winter the village slumbered like the pine forests, as if their blood like the sap of the trees that surrounded them was frozen. There was nothing to do but tend to the fires, and get food from the village stores, or repair the covered walkways that let them free access to the village once the snows came. Clothes were mended and quilts were stitched and bolts of fabric woven, but life was set to a slow and slumbering pace. When spring came at last to the village there was much to be done, and life passed busily as though there were never enough time before winter set upon them again.

As it happens, this tale begins as the life of this little mountain village shaman is ending, and who else but our fair haired girl has been chosen to replace him. As soon as it became apparent that the life of their shaman would not last another generation one baby was chosen, and taken to be raised by the shaman, and taught the magic and the healing of this most important of posts. As spring neared and the life of the shaman faded, this fair haired girl called Maarse began preparations to leave on her journey to prove herself.

Getting up and carefully brushing the snow from her clothes, with the tiniest smile upon her face, this girl glided down to the village, as if she weren’t touching the ground at all. Her bag had been packed and repacked and checked and rechecked and awaited the signs of spring. Maarse opened the door to her little home, and glanced at the old man sleeping through his raspy breathing, she picked up her healers bag that was filled with all manner of plants mosses and potions and over that pulled on the bag that she hoped would get her far enough to accomplish her mission.