She had covered a lot of distance, and yet, she hardly felt tired. Her mind was filled with purpose, and intent. The small bundle she held in her arms, wrapped in linen cloths, was silent. Rushing water from the distance hit her hears, and she could smell the ash of a nearby burning fire. The woman knew there had to be a village nearby. Walking into some of the thicker foliage, in hopes of gaining some sort of cover, the blond-haired woman made way for the river. It was wide, and lined with vegetation. Her logic dictated the village must be along it, just within an hour’s reach. Deep within her subconscious, her mind battled. Was she safe now, or should she keep running? Brown robes draped over her and offered some form of camouflage against the terrain. Minutes seemed to pass by in seconds. She had managed to find some sort of calm- that is, until a figure emerged.
Gathering water from the river, a maiden hummed a soft song. There wasn’t a care in her mind: she was doing her duties, and hadn’t expected to meet a stranger. The runner, knowing that she would have to face the maiden, approached cautiously. The robed woman’s voice, smooth like silk, met the other woman’s humming. “Do not be alarmed.” The blond woman lowered her hood, striding forward with one hand raised, as if in greeting and to signal her lack of ill-intent. The maiden, pausing to set down the vase she was using to carry the river-water, stared at the stranger. “I need your help.” The maiden was slightly alarmed at the notion of helping this mysterious figure. However, upon seeing the bundle in her arms, an instinct arose in her that brought upon a sense of urgency.
“Our village is nearby. I will take you there for shelter.”
“No.” The blond woman of fair skin approached the other, tanner woman. The dark-skinned maiden brushed brunette strands of hair away from her face and raised an eyebrow, taking a step back. “Take her. To your village. Keep her safe; I cannot go with her.” The taller woman extended her arms and offered the bundle to the river-maiden. Hesitantly, the villager took the infant babe into her arms, pulling back the cloth just enough to see the small head peaking out from its cover. “I beg you.”
“You don’t have to beg. I will take her.” It was if the maiden understood the stranger’s urgency. There was an unspoken agreement- a sort of, spiritual connection between the two females that dictated her actions. “What is her name?”
“Arika. Her name is Arika. I beg you, make haste.”
“Are you from the outside?” The river-maiden looked to the stranger in hopes for answers. However, after a long pause of silence, she knew she wasn’t going to get any.
“Thank you, kind friend. You will be re-payed for your actions, one day.” The infant babe, still ever silent and seemingly sleeping, nestled against the villager as she was held. Suddenly, there was a noise like thunder in the distance. As if both women had heard this noise before, they ran. The maiden held the babe close and took refuge behind a nearby boulder. But the runner, as swift as she was, could no longer out-run her pursuers. Those who met with her, clad in cloaks as black as night, swooped upon her like crows. The runner could no longer run. She didn’t scream, or make a sound. Bright, blueish light flashed around the dark figures and lashed at her over, and over again. It was a whip of crackling light that burned her flesh, melting her skin right off. Her eyes, wide and open, simply stared at the ground as her body was maimed. The river-maiden watched in her terror until she could take no more. She turned and, crouching low to the ground, carried away the child, Arika. The image of the fair-skinned woman’s eyes haunted her: those foreign, golden eyes sprung wide in their despair. As they moved, the villager looked to the child and knew. The only thing that kept the babe’s mother from screaming, was that she didn’t want to wake her.
Along the river, just as the golden-eyed woman had predicted, was a great village. At its center, a large fire roared and lit up the evening air. Houses made of clay, stone, and wood lined a central road. The brunette maiden took refuge in one of these houses, where a man and young boy awaited her. The man, standing from his wooden stool, looked upon them in confusion. “Sali, what is the meaning of this?”
“Shhh.” The woman pressed the infant babe against her in her efforts to keep the child calm. “Keep your voice low. This little one was in trouble. I had to take her.”
“Do you know someone who can take her?” The man made an effort to lower his voice.
“We are going to keep her here.”
“You know the rule, Sali. We cannot keep more than one child, here. If the Ad’da find out-”
“They will not find out. We will hide her.”
“Think about what you are asking of us. You will put your family in danger, for one child?”
“This child is ours, now. I made her mother a promise, before the Ad’da took her.” She gave her husband a knowing look. His eyes, full of sorrow, looked back into his wife’s as he gave a heavy sigh. He looked to his young boy, who couldn’t be more than five years of age, and then at the small child.
“Let me see her.” Carefully, the maiden named Sali placed the bundle in her husband’s arms. He cradled the child with strong arms, staring at her tiny features. “The gods are not merciful. They will come for her.” All three of them now, the husband and wife and the small boy, looked upon the baby.
“When they come for her, we will be ready.” Tiny eyelids raised and, with bright eyes of gold, the infant Arika looked upon new faces and gave a smile.
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