1. MADAM

Thirteen years ago…

One cold winter’s night, on the very edge of the Gant forest, three figures stood amidst the twilight, the wind whipping the hems of their coarsely woven woollen robes.

“Get rid of it” snarled the tallest figure, a slender middle aged woman, and the second tightened its hold around a small bundle wrapped in swaddling clothes, whilst the third wailed in agony. “Forget about it, woman. There is no need to make such fuss. It…has been possessed by some evil spirit- we will do well in getting rid of it from The Village.”

Lora stifled back tears and retorted, “Wise woman, she is my daughter- the fruit of my womb. Is this so necessary? I…I don’t know if I can-”

“Address me as Madam, you little freak,” she growled.

“Fine, Madam!” Lora cried out, allowing the tear drops to finally roll down her cheeks and form a puddle in the mud, as she turned on her heel and ran into the dark night, further away from the child that she thought she would never see again.

“Leave her, Joçalim,” snapped the wise woman, as he glanced back towards the retreating shadow of Lora. “My most trusted friend and advisor would not wish to fail me, would he now?” Joçalim shook his head warily. A cruel smile played across her lips and her voice dropped to a low tone. “Be sure to place the child in an area from which it will never return.”

……………………………………………

To the west, amid the drops and climbs that rolled down the side of the rocky mountainside, a protruding grey ledge left a large enough gap in which light was able to filter through, staining the shadows of a cave with a golden tinge. Unfolding from the very bottom of the mountains, almost as if it were connected, were miles upon miles of green treetops, grazing just the very edge of the horizon. This forest was known to all as Gant, the habitat of many uninviting predators, but also the odd bird or deer, the prey.

The east was different. The Village was situated here, within short distance of Gant, but there was an invisible separation between the two that was more distinct than the comparison of the scales between The Village and Gant, a separation that had begun thousands of years ago, known to most as the food chain, or to some, cruelty.

Faye stretched her arms as she settled on the stone floor stretched across the cave. Chunks of fiery red hair were flung around her after a desperate attempt to comb it (with her fingers), like one of The Villagers. The Villagers were the people that lived in her memory so long ago, the ones who had exiled her when she was two. She could not remember anything about them; the things she knew were ones that she had learnt throughout the years that she had watched over them. She sighed and entwined the strands of hair between her fingers, watching the deep red of her hair compress her fingers together and then grow pallid, almost yellow, due to her cutting off blood supply. She let go and the hair hovered in the air for a long moment, before falling to the ground slowly. Her gaze skittered across the cave. An alarmed moth twisted its terra-cotta wings around in a spider’s web, which the tenant, a red-bodied, bulbous spider had died months ago, only leaving behind her snares. Her heart gave out to the little thing and, although many of its kind had eaten through her old clothes, it was not to be blamed, for it was pure instinct, and with that thought Faye stood up stiffly and untangled the moth from the deadly trap.

As her eyes entered the bright ray of the sun spilling through the cave entrance, her hand rushed up to cover them. She blinked slowly, feeling slightly light headed. Already almost back to lying on the floor, Faye stood up again and made her way towards the entrance of the cave. She leant on the cold stone wall and gazed over the landscape.

“You’re dreaming again!” chirped a voice in the top corner, hidden by the dusky light. She didn’t have to look back to see who it was. It was a stergraye, a common birdlike animal, but with fingers instead of claws and a large brown speckled breast. It was just bigger than a full-grown eagle, so it strained to keep itself perched in the corner, pressed gently together by rocky surfaces.

“I’m not dreaming, Jon. Simply…collecting my thoughts,” said Faye, collecting up the stray strands of hair, “shouldn’t you be out already, doing whatever you do, instead of pestering me? You have enough time to do that anyway.”

“What I do is none of your business, Faye. But if you have to know…I have an uncanny knack of hunting snails. Surprisingly, there are hardly any around here. There used to be so many, but they’ve suddenly disappeared.”

Faye was suddenly interested, finally turning around to face him. “Why?”

“The animals in the forest sense a change in the air. Rumour goes that there’s a disturbance in Gant, something not quite right.”

Faye’s eyes widened. Her life as an exile on the borders of the Gant forest was one of repetitive boredom. Any snippet of a story was one that she devoured, locking into her mind for another time.

“They say that a demon has returned in the form of a stergraye.” His voice was grave, “all the stergrayes are either being thrown out of Gant, or killed. There is no mercy.”

“But-” Faye was cut short.

“Faye, I was going to tell you later but I’m leaving.”

“No, you can’t! I won’t let you…” she broke off, a shocked palm hovering above her mouth.

“I can’t risk jeopardising your life as well, Faye. They’ve already killed hundreds of stergrayes in cold blood, who knows what they would do to a human. They hate humans, Faye. They hate them. Humans have wrecked Gant with their spears and fire. They don’t want anything to do with them. The Village is the place for humans; they’ve made that clear enough.”

“But they know we live here though, don’t they?” Jon shuffled his wings uncomfortably.

“No,” he said at last.

“You said they knew. You said that you told them that I wasn’t part of The Village, that they had exiled me. You said that you had told them that I was not part of The Village no more than they were and that you were with me.” Jon hung his head in defeat. A second later he perked up, eyes flaring.

“I know I did. But that was so you wouldn’t go in there and tell them yourself. You’d be killed!”

“But they must know who I am; I go in Gant to hunt all the time!”

“They think you are one of The Villagers,” Jon said without hesitation. Faye recoiled in horror.

“And you let them?” she whispered, pronouncing each of the words slowly, as if rolling them around her tongue, tasting their bitter feel. Jon realised what he had said.

“Faye, listen. It’s for your benefit, otherwise they’d kill you.”

“I don’t care!” she cried, her hands accentuating every word with a rough gesture.

Jon flew to her shoulder, only to be slapped away by a flailing hand.

“Don’t be so childish; it was over thirteen years ago. You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened,”he paused, “or anybody else for that matter.”

“And what about you,” she spat, “aren’t you the one always going on about how stergrayes are a proud race and now look at you- running away from the only thing that has ever threatened your welfare-”

“Faye, please. We rarely ever quarrel. What has happened to us?” Jon broke in warily.

“One of us became tired of the other,” Faye answered coldly.

“Which one…?”

“Need you ask?” Faye answered quietly, fists clenched. In fury, Jon trembled, the quivers reaching the very ends of his feathers. Without a word he left the cave, leaving Faye alone for the first time in thirteen years.

The earth was cold in her fingers as she traced patterns in the pebbly ground. Dust clouded up in her eyes and she coughed as dirt sprayed into her mouth. Faye’s eyes gleamed a brighter green as the moon rose, instead of blurring up and falling shut, like the endless nights before. She thought she could hear Jon’s chirping but then she remembered their argument before and sighed, feeling foolish. She slapped at her elbow as a mosquito landed, preparing to suck her rich blood.

“This is ridiculous,” Faye muttered to herself, “I should go to sleep.” She wiped her eye as a teardrop formed. In an instant that otherworldly gleam in her eyes disappeared. “I’m so stupid!” she wept, then gritted her teeth as she remembered her hurtful words to him earlier that day. “What would Jon do now?” Her question was answered within the moment she glanced outside. Would he…?

She stood up slowly and headed for the cave entrance. The light from the moon spilled over the entire Gant forest and everything was illuminated in an eerie blue light. Faye turned her head to admire the magnificence of the forest, and then she caught sight of The Village. She felt a pang in her heart. She missed her mother. A sudden thought sprang up into her head. She would go down to The Village and find her. No one was here who could talk her out of it now because Jon had vanished earlier that day. A thousand what-ifs crossed her mind but she brushed them away. She might finally meet the woman who had given birth to her and had tried to raise her. But she would endanger her life by going forth to the very people who had tried to murder her. But what was her own life worth anyway? She sighed and shook her head slowly with the response- not much. Cautiously, she began the descent down the rocky hillside towards The Village and all of the thoughts contrasting her actions disappeared, as if they had never been there in the first place.

A dying fire was glimmering on the ground beside her and ash was scattered across the ground. The grey landscape seemed barren, if not for the odd fire, or spear, or the collection of roughly stitched tents and wooden huts before her. She tiptoed carefully between them, making sure not to wake up any inhabitants inside. After all, she had been exiled thirteen years ago.

All of a sudden she stumbled on an object flung across the ground. It was a stergraye, or so it seemed beneath the brown, drying blood and torn out feathers. She touched it gently, wincing as she felt its cold, lifeless form.

“Jon…?” she asked herself, suddenly realising her concern for his safety. She fumbled around, bringing the stergraye’s head around to face her. “No. Thank God,” she whispered, wiping her bloodied palms on the fabric of her clothes, ones that she had stolen years ago. Quickly, she muttered a short prayer, yearning for Jon to be safe.

“Who goes there?” a thundering voice suddenly called out. Faye leapt to her feet, flinging the stergraye down and searched for a place to hide. “Who goes there?” the booming voice repeated. A door creaked before her and a woman emerged out of the house. Faye had no option but to stand there, as she was in a large clearing. The woman had long, straggly black hair and a thin face shadowy with wrinkles. A purple silk robe swirled around her tall figure, barely tracing the ground below. “I am tired of asking you who you are,” the woman said crossly.

“My name is Faye.” The woman’s eyebrows shot up and her mouth curved into a suspicious frown.

“We had a Faye here once before. When she left, no one ever used that name again.”

“Why not?” Faye asked, curiosity getting the better of her again.

“She threatened the village.” The woman hesitated, “she was…a possessed child. Different, one could say.” Ironically, Faye wanted to laugh for the woman had no idea who she was talking to. “So, Miss Faye- that is, I assume you are not married?” Faye shook her head and the woman continued. “I have many questions to ask you. You must understand. I am…concerned for my peoples’ safety.” Faye nodded once, a quick but noticeable gesture. “Firstly, do you know where you are right now?”

“The Village,” Faye said quickly. Too quickly. The suspicion on the woman’s face increased. “I…I’ve heard of it before…on my travels.” Faye was finding it difficult to lie before this disturbingly intense person.

“You travel? Where were you from originally? Your parents?”

Faye decided to partially speak the truth. “I never knew my father but I was told that he was a brave and keen hunter. He died before I was born. My mother raised me for…for a few years and then I…well, you could say that I left home.”

“How old were you then?”

“Two,” Faye said instantaneously. The woman’s features sharpened and her mouth was now a tight line, pressed angrily together. “-Two plus six! I was…well, I must have been eight years old.” The woman’s expression softened, but was still steely and far from welcoming.

“Why did you come here, Faye?”

“I was…travelling and I need a place to stay.” Faye hesitated. “I had…problems...my friend was…well, I had to…get away.” She said ‘friend’ in a hard tone, not bearing to give up to the threatening tears.

Grudgingly the woman nodded. “I am the wise woman of The Village. I see no other option but to have to help you.”

“Thank you, wise woman.”

“It’s Madam.”

“Sorry?”

“You must call me Madam as does everybody else here.” Faye nodded, hands clenched into fists beside her. As she was led inside the house, she flicked her eyes down to the ground, hiding her face so she would not be recognised, although the chances were small.

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