Cast of additional characters and aliases

Anborn Faramir's alias

Mattias the eldest son of the witch

Gordash the middle son of the witch

Curtik the youngest son of the witch

Szandor a cousin of Mattias, Gordash and Curtik

Bregus the witch, also called Mother, the shuv'ni (another word for witch) and puri dai (tribe elder)

Bäla Bregus' dead husband, a former shuv'ni and puri dai

Kattica Mattias' wife, and a shuv'ni apprentice

The Hunting Trip

Chapter 13: Challenges and Threats

Gimli beamed at the words of commendation.

"Such beauty. Such grace. It was like a dance, a thing of intricate timing and determination but also of a deadly reckoning. I would never have conceived it in my waking hours and if I were to tell it to anyone else, they would surely think I was jesting. But I was there and saw it with my own eyes. Who would have guessed a thing like that possible? A delight to behold, hidden in the guise of a Dwarf."

Gimli bristled at the slight giving Legolas a withering look but smiled inwardly all the same as he listened to the Elf regale praises for Gimli's great skills. And before an audience of their comrades no less. He quietly grunted. Legolas exaggerated the truth a bit, and Gimli suspected it was done more so for the sake of his own tale and than for the Dwarf"s ego. Yet spoken praise from Legolas was hard to come by, and this truth was not so far bent as to be total fallacy. So Gimli took what came his way, believing in his heart that he truly deserved it. A self-satisfied grin crept over him and lit his face, and he found the hardest task at hand was keeping himself from joining in on the bragging, trying his best to keep his ego in check. Not an easy task, especially when so much of it was truth. Yet it was a pleasure for Gimli to regain his place as a master of weapons skill after having had endured seemingly endless hours of mockery before these same friends. He thought on the place he held in their esteem. First the city gates, now the hunt. He could get used to being the center of such attentions.

He looked at the remains of the two carcasses laying in discarded shreds on the heavy wooden chopping board near the fire. They had started out as succulent, juicy and plump roasting fowls. Now they were merely the remains of this night's dinner. He tossed the bone he had gnawed clean into the fire as he smiled to himself. A tasty fare they had been. There was something to be said about eating outdoors. It enhanced the flavors somehow.

Gimli gazed around at the pristine environment they sat in, made all the better for his good mood. The words and laughter of his friends' voices were clear and unhampered. The roar of the falls was dulled by their place a small distance away from the cave entrance. Near enough be close to safety, yet far enough to not feel the dampness of water vapors invading their supper. The women had set up the site earlier in the day, a leisurely picnic their plan. So when he and Legolas had brought home a feast of two lovely sage grouse, it made wonderful sense to cook under the stars. The lingering aroma of herbs and wild fowl still hung in the air.

"I am still trying to put it together in my mind. Tell me again you flushed the birds from their covey" Faramir began, his voice breaking Gimli's reverie while an expression of intense curiosity marked the Prince's face.

"Aye," answered Legolas, leaning in for the narrative. The waterfall behind him was a dull whisper as the lilting voice of the elf commanded the group's attention. Above, the stars blinked in twinkling merriment as if they too were enjoying hearing the tale of Gimli's prowess. "I came about them from the opposite direction as he, following Gimli's instructions carefully. If I were in the companionship of Elves, our method would have been far different, but seeing that this was Gimli's demonstration, I opted to adhere to his plan. And, though I am loathe to say it, I learned a thing or two from it. With a stealth I have rarely witnessed in him, he crept forward, positioning himself noiselessly in prime location, availing himself to his target like a practiced master. Gimli knelt, and for a moment I thought I had lost him, so good was his disguise in the marshy grasses. But when I sighted him again I was pleased to see him poised low, but ready for action. He spotted me, and I nodded, awaiting his signal. He took three deep breaths, mentally preparing himself, and then he gave the indication to me to begin. With a rush, I moved forward, doing my part to stir the fowl out of the brush, trouncing the bramble and sage much in the ways of a good hunting dog. The grouse set to flight, but not before Gimli could act to snare them. Like a falcon's flight, diving and swooping, the halberd floated above, whirring as metal sang against the air. And yet so fast it was that it nearly passed before my eyes without my seeing it. But my eyes are sharp and I saw it all. They were only at waist height when he took up his movement, and by the time they had reached chest height, he had severed their heads. Mid-flight! It was amazingly quick over instantly! The creatures did not suffer and I was most moved by the beauty of it. I will concede now to the art of this weapon. It has its place, I have come to know."

"Was it not dangerous, being so near as this weapon was swinging about?" Eowyn asked, as incredulous as Faramir.

"Quite, but I kept my distance, and Gimli seemed to handle the halberd with great skill and control. I did not feel endangered. Truthfully, I have never before seen such agility in a dwarf."

Gimli rumbled with annoyance, "You keep saying that, Elf, as if you've never seen the grace of my likes."

Aragorn laughed in response. "I must confess," he chuckled, "'graceful' and 'dwarf' are two words I would not think connected either, Gimli."

The dwarf decided to ignore the comment. Instead he addressed the question of skill Eowyn posed. With a twinkle in his eyes and something resembling bold daring he said to her, "As you know, Lady, there is no need to feel danger if you are with a warrior trained well in his weapon. I have been handling the halberd since I was waist-high to a Halfling. I am quite familiar with all the ways to use this weapon."

"Now imagine such movements from an Elf," Legolas interjected, turning as well to Eowyn and not noticing Gimli's darkening expression at being upstaged. "You can almost see the magnificence of the artful gesture in that form, can you not?" Gimli felt a growl rise in his throat as he saw Eowyn and several others smile and nod affirmatively while caught in their rapt attention to the Elf's words. "What say you Gimli, being the great master you are? Will you teach me this weapon?" Legolas asked, his blue eyes now turned to the Dwarf in sparkling amusement.

The Dwarf harumphed. Legolas was being manipulative, encouraged by the presence of all. It mattered not. Gimli's mood was too good to let the silly ramblings of an Elf displease him. He pushed out his chest in proud fashion. Gimli could hardly denounce the feelings that were obvious in his countenance. Yet, Legolas had just slighted him in an offhand way, and that deserved a soft cuff. "I keep telling you, Elf, it is not the weapon, but the action. This weapon, whether used in warring or in the hunt, is formidable when taken with proper technique and strategy. Two or three as a team with the same tool make a formidable adversary. Today you saw a demonstration of what can occur when we work as a team. The grouse took the axe end of my pole. Do it again, and tomorrow's deer will take the spear. I will be glad to teach you this, so long as you remember it is not the weapon of just one. You and I worked this instrument together today. Do not forget that."

Legolas smirked, "And now I receive praise from the Dwarf as well. He must be feeling rather sure of himself to be so gracious to give."

"He said 'tomorrow's deer'," Aragorn pointed out, interrupting. Excitedly he directed the words to Faramir. "You will witness for me." Then he turned his gray eyes on the Dwarf, "You said 'tomorrow's deer', Gimli. Does that mean? Those words imply you will hunt tomorrow. Dare I come to believe you mean that truly? Unimpeded?"

Gimli glanced at Legolas, weighing his Elf friend's masked expression before giving his own answer. He turned to the man and said in a beleaguered voice, "Truly Aragorn, I meant the word only in a poetic fashion. But seeing how much you long for this, I will confess I am feeling swayed. Especially since I was able to give demonstration of how my weapon may work on a hunt and others here are beginning to see its merits. It is against my better judgement to do so though. And yet my Elf friend seems in need of the challenge of a Dwarf's skills if he is to improve on his own. I will do it, for his sake and yours." Gimli said, watching as Legolas responded with a scornful grumble.

"And you Legolas?" the King asked apprehensively.

The Elf sighed. "Yes, Aragorn, I will participate. But only in pursuit of the one deer. No others will I aid in slaying," the Elf demanded.

"A reasonable request I will grant you both. Faramir and I will turn our attentions in the hunt of the prized stag only. Agreed?"

The heads of the three other males nodded in agreement, albeit some less enthusiastically than others.

"So we will hunt again tomorrow," the Ranger said with an eager smile, confirming that this would indeed happen.

Faramir looked up, biting his lip in nervousness as he tested an idea. "Since we were speaking of challenges, may I offer a thought? It came up today in the Romany camp and I must admit I am intrigued by it. Bregus made a suggestion that seemed as if it might aid us in the reluctance that some of us felt over the hunt. A contest. Separate into teams. Legolas and I versus you and Gimli. In considering it, we may find it a formidable matchup, do you not think?" Faramir asked looking to Aragorn for validation.

Aragorn's smile weakened a moment at the mention of the old woman's name. But then he nodded. "I'd agree regarding the challenge of it, though I'm not sure I was as taken with her as you seem to be, my friend."

Arwen, unaware of what the others had experienced, asked in good humor, "Did Faramir attract a lady friend today?"

The Prince's face turned crimson as a murmur of low cajoles and mirthful teases rose up from the group. He protested, "I was not that taken! She just struck me asnice. I thought she was a sweet old thing." He was met by an echoing of the same ridiculing sounds.

"And certainly she felt the same thing for you, my friend if not more," Aragorn taunted.

Eowyn's lips curled into a smile as she joined the ruckus, prodding Faramir's embarrassment on further. "So my love was the object of another lady's affection? Should I be jealous of these attentions he has garnered? Perhaps I should challenge my rival to a duel."

"You could best her," Aragorn said nodding assuredly, playing along with the pretense of indignation.

Arwen laughed, "I have always thought Faramir worthy of the protection of female guard. He is rather handsome. Perhaps it would be best to keep a tight rein on him, Eowyn. You should be careful about not letting him out of your sight again. I would offer you my blade as your second if you choose to contest her."

"Thank you, Lady. I may take you up on that," Eowyn said with all the valiance of a warrior as she bowed her head.

Faramir's face reddened further. He said, "You are merciless, all of you. She was just a kind, elderly woman. Nothing more."

"A kind, elderly woman with designs on you, I think. She practically had you telling her everything about our stay here," countered Aragorn with a smirk.

"And you should speak so freely. You were telling her nearly as much as I," Faramir tossed back.

"I will concede she had charm, but I did not come close to divulging as much about us as you seemed prepared to say, Faramir. Did you forget everything we had discussed before we came up here?" Aragorn said, still joking, but there was subtle shift in his tone, as if he were quietly reprimanding the younger man for his loose tongue.

"I think you both have forgotten that it was I that kept you from saying even more. Be thankful I was there to pull you out of hazzard!" Gimli bellowed, not enjoying the merriment of their play. His words grew terse as he scolded, "Left to you, every detail of our lives would have been laid bare before her. On my mother's beard I swear that I could not understand why you were both acting thus. I did not trust her then, and I do not like her now," Gimli grumbled.

"Ah, Gimli, she was harmless," Aragorn said, now dismissing the event with the old woman with a wave of his hand, attempting to toss aside the building tension perceivable in the Dwarf.

But Gimli would not be deterred. His voice grew louder as he justified his comments with an angry tone. "She pried too much, and she seemed to be pushing us to tell her things I did not care to share! And neither should have you either of you! She did not seem to care that Legolas was rendered ill. I find that bothersome, do you not? And I understood the interpretation of her title to be the equivalent of a sorceress. Although she never said it, I think she had more reason for being happy to see an Elf than she revealed! I believe she did something to Legolas today to keep him there. And that it was not sea-longing, Aragorn! That we escaped without harm seems pure luck to me, but luck I'll gladly take, and I would be only too happy not to meet up with her again!"

Legolas sighed with exasperation, "Gimli, we spoke of this"

He was cut off by the quiet voice of Aragorn. "Peace, Legolas." The smile was gone from the King's face and his brow furrowed in serious thought. In a low voice he said, "I agree with Gimli. At least in respect to not trusting Bregus. I do not believe her true either, although I felt no harm intended by the others. Still, I think it would be wise to stay away from that camp if we can."

"And what of the harm she caused Legolas?" Gimli asked, threat looming in his voice as his hand automatically drifted to his side where his axe normally hung.

Aragorn smiled sympathetically. "There is no evidence that she did anything, Gimli. She may be called a shuv'ni, a witch, by her people, but I don't believe she has any true powers. The Romany are a simple people. They are guided easily by superstition and dream interpretation. Any power that they may have would be found in their use of herbal remedies. I believe I have those same skills, and I would not consider myself a sorcerer by any means. Their customs differ. A witch to them is like a healer to us," Aragorn shrugged.

Gimli could see Legolas nodding his concurrence. "Still I would prefer we stayed far away," the dwarf grumbled.

"Agreed then," the former Ranger said. "But not everything that came there was of malicious intent. I too like the idea of a challenge, especially considering the trouble we dealt with today with you and Legolas. It might add some interest to turn this into a game. What say you on this? Shall we split up our party for this hunt? Gimli, you with me? Legolas, you with Faramir?" he asked looking from Dwarf face to Elf face for agreement.

Legolas smiled broadly, liking with relish the idea of besting the Dwarf. Gimli reminded himself that the Legolas had not been there for this proposal, and so it was fresh to him and not laced with the apprehension wrought by the old woman's presence in the Dwarf's mind. From the Elf's expression, Gimli could tell Legolas approved the idea. The words that followed confirmed it. "A contest" he said, lingering over the word with merry eyes. "I think that might be amusing. I would be more than happy to upset the Dwarf and prove his weapon, graceful though it be, inferior to my bow."

With that boast, Gimli's pride was stung and he found himself ready to take on verbal battle with the Elf. His fears were pushed aside as his personal dignity began to fight back. "And I would be only too willing to put your words to the test. I will venture that Aragorn and I come back with a prizewinning stag," Gimli bragged.

"Not if our superior skills hold true," Legolas scoffed back.

"You will be no match for our prowess," Faramir added, winking at the Elf.

Good-naturedly, Aragorn opened his mouth to speak. "Do not," but he stopped in mid-word as Arwen bent down and kissed him on the cheek. He had not seen her rise. Nor had the others seen Eowyn join her in folding blankets and breaking the camp.

The two women gave each other a meaningful glance before the Elf lady said, "Gentlemen, I suspect you could go at this all night, but that would hinder your skills in the morn. I recommend you get your rest whilst you can. The deer rise early, you know. It will be an active day for all of us, and I am ready to turn in."

"You are right, my love," the King said with a smile as he rose and began to gather their supplies. "And what is in your plans for the morrow?"

Eowyn smiled as Arwen answered. "We are going to venture out to see the new waterfall of which Legolas had made mention. He told us it is just east of here and a breathtaking sight."

"Then keep your eyes open, as that is where you will find Gimli and I to be as well," Aragorn said in warning.

"To the east? That is where you will be? But that's where Mattias said they saw the stag," Faramir protested.

"Precisely the reason we intend to hunt there," Aragorn said with a shrug.

"But I was going to suggest that Legolas and I " Faramir began.

"It seems the East is already spoken for," Gimli interrupted with a mocking voice. "I believe North, South and West are still available though."

Faramir shot a glare at the Dwarf before darkly muttering, "Very well then, we will take West."

"Done," said Aragorn. "And may the better team prevail," he said offering his arm to Faramir in warrior's handshake.

"Have no fear. We shall," said Legolas, nudging the King's arm as he walked past with an armload of supplies, following Arwen toward the cave.

Gimli immediately took up Aragorn's cause, following behind, also laden with goods. "I saw that, Elf! Do not think that you can win this challenge by doing our bowman bodily harm. You will find when we are done that it is my halberd that will have taken the prize."

"My mistake, Dwarf, for I thought sure the skills of your bowman were the only thing that would win this contest for you. But if you think you are superior to him in skill, then perhaps you should take up the challenge. Alone," Legolas countered.

The former Ranger cast a sidelong glance at the pair as they made their way up the path. He chuckled lightly, shaking his head, then offered a good-humored smirk toward Faramir. "We had better rise early, my friend, or we may find we have been left behind. It would not surprise me to find them at the challenge without us."

Faramir returned his smile with a pat to the back and a nod, then chuckled as he heard the dwarf's boastful voice echoing near the cavern space, "Would it frighten you if I did hunt alone? You have already seen a small demonstration of my skills on something as minor as a grouse actually two simultaneously. That is nothing compared to what I will accomplish come new day."

"I see all that bluster about hunting as a team has gone by the wayside. What happened Gimli? Did my talk of improving on your skill spark some ideas in that small mind of yours as to how this could be accomplished in solo endeavor?" The voice of the Elf faded away as they entered the cave.

Faramir rolled his eyes toward his King and sighed. "And to think this morn we had wished for some sort of participation from those two in this event. I fear we may regret this new turn tomorrow."

Aragorn laughed as he followed his companions toward the cave.

****

The owl had been leading her through the darkened wood. And though her eyesight was fairly good for someone so old, the bird never strayed further than ten or so meters from Bregus as they made their way across the miles to the camp that the owl had seen. Bregus was careful in her steps, using her kosh as a walking stick to help pick her way to safe footing in the darkness. The moon was only now rising and in the pitch of night, she did not want to trip and fall, injuring herself when she was so close to achieving her goal. She was slow and careful as she made her way.

When she heard the sound of the falls in the distance, her heart thrilled to a quickening pace. She was near and she had hope. She prayed to her gods to reveal to her the place she had seen in her dreams and minutes later they fulfilled her desire.

It was as spectacular as she had hoped. Playful. Inviting. Magnificent. And mystical.

But she had to be careful. She did not wish to be seen. She heard voices as she approached, she heard them nearing from the other side of the river. She knew she could not draw fully into the clearing. She pulled back, remaining hidden in the shadows.

She came upon them only seconds after the Elf and Dwarf had entered the cave, so they had not perceived her, and she had not seen them. She saw only the dark-haired man, a woman, and the one called Anborn. Who are you really? She wondered as she watched the men talk as they walked a path toward the falls. With a clap to the hand, the two men exchanged a few words, a laugh, and then the dark-haired one walked to the rock face of the wall and seemingly disappeared into it. Bregus gasped, realizing only on hard scrutiny that a crevice in the stone wall served as a door. She marveled at the illusion. This must be the Protected Place! Its interior space is shrouded well from the world, she thought.

The object of her desire and the woman stood alone on the shoreline opposite her with the falls behind them. Above them, the first glimpse of the moon could be seen rising above the raging water, and the light caught brilliantly as it cast down upon their heads like a silver light. The contrast between light and shadow threw their forms into complete silhouette. The moon, being at nearly her ripest state, was blindingly bright, and Bregus suspected that had she stepped forward, she might have remained invisible to Anborn and the woman, so long as she stayed in the shadows.

She watched his every move with rapt attention. She could not help the fixed trance she found herself falling into each time she gazed upon him. So like Bäla, she thought. And while this man had an uncanny resemblance to her dead spouse, in her mind he was becoming one and the same. Soon he will be, she mused.

So it was then, with jealous shock and anger, that she witnessed this one, this Anborn, this man who would soon be her returning Bäla, reach over and pull the woman that accompanied him into his arms and kiss her. Agonizing rage riled up in Bregus as she watched this unfaithful act. It took all of her will to contain herself and not cry out. She could not step out to reveal herself. For her own good, this was done, and in the next moments she was rewarded for her strength to resist. What happened took away her harrowing lament, and brought a wicked smile to her lips. For the man reached his hand down and placed it tenderly on the woman's lower abdomen. On her womb. And the expression he gave as he gazed upon the fair-haired woman was one of pure love and joy. Bregus knew exactly what that gesture and expression meant. There was an unborn child within this woman. Silently, Bregus laughed.

She did not linger long after they departed into the entrance in the rock face. Long enough to see a very brief glimmer of light flicker within the depths of the falls. Brief enough that it seemed of her imagining. But also brief enough to be discerned as a body pressing through a curtain that hid a brighter room within the shadows of those falls.

When she saw the flicker, she knew. She still had no idea how many there were in this camp, though from what she had seen of them, she suspected it was fewer than she had feared. She shook her head as she collected her wits. If the interior spaces were like those revealed in her dream, indeed there could be many more hidden inside. But she found herself bothered not by this. She had new knowledge, and if she used it right, it would not matter if a full troop of soldiers lie in wait in those store. She had the means now of drawing far greater power than any she possessed on her own. A horribly evil smile crossed her face as she turned to go back to her family.

****

Kattica lifted her head from the fuzzy haze of sleep when she heard footsteps approach. It was dark and night had fallen though the moon rose bright in the sky. The silver light played on the walls and ceiling of the tent as the crickets sang their night song. For a moment all seemed natural to Kattica and she relaxed with the familiar cadence of approaching steps that she knew, allowing herself to drift off into deeper sleep, happily lulled by the normality of it. But then, like a splash of cold water on her face, she remembered everything that had transpired that day. With her fear she became alert. She bolted upright. Her heart beating rapidly as the steps came nearer and her eyes grew wide in anticipation of what she would find when the flap was pulled away and the person approaching entered the tent. It was with complete surprise then when the gentle smile of Mattias' face poked through the entrance and he climbed into their shared tent, just as he did every night. He looked so much like himself, his face and actions the familiar one she had come to love, that she thought for a moment that she had been wrong, that everything she had experienced and witnessed had been some horrible contrivance on the part of her brain, whipped up by bad dreams that had no place in reality. With relief her cry greeted him, and it was with joy that she plundered him in her embrace, grabbing him fiercely in her arms. She had spoken to him only in brief snippets early this day and that had been all of which she had to cling. She realized now just how lost she had been without his familiar presence nearby. She could see that he still was the man that she loved. Bregus had not stolen his soul.

He chuckled at her obvious enthusiasm, and she felt her face redden at her discomfiture. But she did not mind. So happy was she to find him whole and unscathed. She had been wrong. It was all some mistake, a misunderstanding on her part. But then he said something that brought her back from her glee. He said, "Mother says you need to stay confined until the baby comes. I have come to collect my belongings. She says it is time to prepare you, to make this bender sacred. She says you have become mokadi."

Kattica's joy rapidly disappeared as she realized the implications of his words. Mokadi. The word meant taboo. With dread she realized she was to be kept separate from the camp, ridden from the companionship of any, save the shuv'ni, as she entered the final stages of her pregnancy. And she would remain this way until the birth. It was a silly tradition, a way to ward off death from the altar of the new child's birth, and it was one found only in the more remote of tribes. It had never been their way, at least not until now. She wondered aloud at this change. "But I thought I would stay among you until the birth," she protested.

Mattias' expression changed for a moment, saddened it seemed by the thoughts that ran through his head. But then he smiled bravely as he began packing his gear, shrugging off his own thoughts for the better of them all. "The puri dai has spoken," was all he said.

Kattica continued her protest, anger and confusion motivating her. She moved around to place herself before him, trying to draw his eye to hers, "But this is not our way!"

Mattias sighed heavily, not looking up at her. He continued to pack, pushing past her to reach his belongings. "Mother said you might be like this. Forgetful of our traditions. Mokadi has always been our with us," he said, sadness lacing his voice.

All the fears Kattica had pushed aside came back as she realized now that Mattias' mind had been corrupted. She was not wrong, for she had witnessed birth herself within this camp many times. She knew well their beliefs and she adhered to them wholly. But now they had been altered, conforming to something that met Bregus' goals.

She realized she had little time. Mattias was leaving her, in belief that they would be separated until after their daughter's birth. But Kattica knew no such thing would happen and that he was dooming her and her child to death! She had to stop him, to make him realize that this was wrong! She had to make him come back to himself!

Fearfully, she took both his hands in hers and looked at him beseechingly, forcing her face into his line of vision. She said a silent prayer that she would reach him. "Mattias, I must ask something of you and though I cannot fully explain it, I would ask that you believe in me. That you trust in me."

His expression grew dark with confusion and he stopped momentarily to look hard at her. "Kattica, what are you talking about?"

"Do you love me?" she asked.

Mattias scoffed, "A silly question, Kattica. Of course I love you." He resumed his packing.

But this is not what she was asking. "No," she said touching him again, her hand making contact with his under gentle fingertips. "I do not ask it like a child in need of reassurance. Look at me, Mattias. Tell me. Do you love me?"

The play of shadow and moonlight caused wicked tricks to happen before her eyes in the unlit tent. At first he did not look at all as Mattias to her, his brow darkened, his expression cold and scornful. The face she saw was calculating and harsh, and she repressed a shudder as she assured herself to not let go. And then, as if a cloud had receded, his face became lit, and she gasped softly as the light transformed his appearance, taking away the harsh shadows and anger that had made him seem so frightening to her an instant ago. Looking down at her hand, he paused, gently considering. Then supplicant, he raised his eyes to her and uttered quietly, firmly, "Yes."

Gazing deeply into his eyes, attempting with all her soul to reach his heart, she asked, "Would you trust me enough to follow my wisdom without question if it meant our lives were in danger?" Her voice grew firm in her surety, though a part of it was a whispered plea.

His brow twitched slightly, but he did not move his eyes from hers. "Yes," he whispered back, almost trance-like in his answer.

Breathing a sigh, she allowed a small smile to reach her lips before breaking it with more serious words. "Then you must believe me Mattias when I say we must leave now. For the sake of our child. For the sake of my life. We must go," she said with a quaver of fear touching her voice.

For a brief few seconds he only stared dumbly at her, as if without understanding for her words, and then slowly, with only the slightest of gestures, he shook his head in protest, building until the motion was vehement in answer. "No," he said plainly, without emotion.

The word in itself was a slap in the face of Kattica's hope, so opposite the heartfelt affirmations he had seconds before expressed. She felt her eyes sting as tears came to them, sick with the rejection he had just laid before her. A barely perceptible choke of a cry spilled out of her throat, and she found herself struck silent by the sheer weight of her emotions.

He ignored the emotional barrage her face displayed, turning away instead, casting her aside as he gathered the last of his possessions. And then he spoke as if in anger, "Mother said you might be like this. That it is common for women in mokadi to be temporarily driven to madness. It is better this way, Kattica. Mother will tend to you and you will be well again as soon as the baby is born. You will see."

Kattica was thrown from her immobility by the words. Madness? No! "She is wrong, Mattias. Please! I am not mad. You must believe me! It is she who is making you say these word, she that is mad. She wants our baby, Mattias! Please! Please! Listen to me!" she cried, grabbing his arm in a frenzy, trying desperately to regain his attention, his trust.

He flung her hands off him, like he was shedding something repulsive, spilling it to the ground, and indeed Kattica felt pushed away, spurned and discarded. Shaking his head, tears pooling in his eyes, he repeated, firmly resolved, "It is for the best. You will be made well." Then without even looking back, he departed the tent, and Kattica was left only with the memory of those words of desertion.

No longer with a care for what anyone would hear or think, Kattica let out a wail of keening rage and pain. She felt broken, trodden, defeated by the misery Bregus had bestowed upon her, and with heart-broken anguish she collapsed in on herself, unable to do anything but sob her lament. Pounding her fist on the hard ground, felt despite the carpet of pillowed blankets that lay on the floor, she moaned inconsolably to herself, flexing and unflexing her hands in her spastic cries.

On and on it went, pouring her heart out into the folds of the fabric, she cried until she felt feeble and spent. And for a few minutes more she allowed herself the luxury of lying still, willing herself to calm and not think of anything, if only for this brief moment. She allowed her grief to wash over her, pushing everything else aside, and blankly she stayed like this until she could recover enough to act.

Eventually, her mind began to function again, racing ahead, beyond the moment, realizing that the moment she had awaited had come and gone. Now it was time to act. Kattica felt her resolve grow stern. With him or without him, nothing had changed. She still had to flee.

Angrily she realized she had wasted her time. She had been waiting for him all these many hours, giving up on the idea that Gordash had presented her concerns to her husband, bringing him forth sooner. Opportunities had been present for escape and she had ignored them. Earlier she had witnessed a change in her guards, Curtik for Szandor. After an hour on his post, Curtik had slunk away into the wood, lulled away, she supposed, by the need to urinate. It was exactly the opening of which she had been waiting. Silly superstition, she had thought, for despite their guard, none had stepped forward to witness if she still remained in the tent. Such was the fear and power of mokadi. At least she had this as a weapon in her arsenal. But she did not use it, opting instead to wait until Mattias would appear before she could attempt escape. And now she realized her patience had been fruitless. What a horrible waste! Bregus' hold was obviously greater than she had believed.

She would not waste another opportunity. Discreetly pulling back the edge of the flap, she peeked outside to see if anyone was present. The camp appeared to be settling in for the night, and Kattica heard the straggling sounds of some of her folk cleaning up the last of the family dinner. This was it, she knew. Receding into the tent, she gathered the items she needed, feeling around in the dark as she tied the bedroll about the upper part of her rounded girth with her sash. She had decided to forego the waterskin and cookware, and instead grabbed the kettle and slung it over her shoulder like a sack. Clumsily, she managed to get her feet beneath her so she could make the mad dash to the trees before anyone could see her. Closing her eyes, she muttered a silent prayer then pulled open the flap.

She was greeted in that instant by the low growl of a canine's threat, fiercely resonating in the gullet of a gray-flecked muzzle. Pitch dark eyes shone their menace to her. With a shock she snapped back as bared white fangs flashed before her face. Kattica's eyes widened as the snarling jowls hovered over her, just inches from her face.

kosh literally translates to 'stick', but for a witch it is more the equivalent of a wand or staff.

mokadi translates to mean taboo, forbidden, unclean. Many of the Romany believe a woman in the late stages of pregnancy or in giving birth will be unclean, unholy if you will, and susceptible to the will of wandering spirits, evil and death. For a woman in this condition, a bender tent is often set up specifically for her use alone so she will not contaminate the vardo. The Romany in these camps see the afflicted person's condition almost as if it were an infection or open wound. In some tribes they even go so far as to separate the woman's food, her cooking utensils, her laundry, etc., so that those items will not taint the rest of the tribes'. During her confinement, no one will touch her or her belongings for fear of opening themselves up to the curse of death, though they are still allowed to speak to her. This period may begin from up to eight weeks before the birth and last up to several months after.