Duzsia studies the ground, her brow furrowing. Shortly after, a curt nod and we know she has a plan.

Why didn’t I think of something? I still wonder about this now … we had accepted Duzsia as our leader, her exploits of victory and survival overshadowed anything any of us had previously done in Lord Farmer Hob’s name. This would also explain Milga Stone Blood’s agreement with anything Duzsia planned, because, I thought, without our Lord to support her position of authority, she now felt vulnerable, especially with motherhood upon her … My heart cried then, as it does now as I ponder, what of my daughter? What will she, with time, grow up to believe without her mother as a guide? How will Rexa poison my daughter’s mind?

I remembered how Duzsia’s words broke me from my inner thoughts back then … just in time before tears grew enough to roll down my cheeks … This black contorts time, I know that, yet this memory is fresh. I needed to look at the ground back then. I needed to feign understanding with occasional nods to ensure my sister-wives didn’t notice the moisture which had gathered around my eyes. Once again for the umpteenth time, I return to my past.

“Luda, sneak along the cave entrance towards the front door, I will cover you in case one of them appears from the high sides, while Koria will cover the front door in case they return. Use your instincts if you find them, you can even lure them towards us, just make sure you trip so we can release over you.”

She nods and with a bow across her back and spear at the ready she creeps closer to the cave entrance. Duzsia and I rise with our bows nocked and drawn scanning the cave entrance and front door. I blink several times and succeed in clearing my eyes as Luda enters the front door. Duzsia and I share a glance. Doesn’t she know she is now on her own? I should have questioned the choice of Luda, yet who else could have stood overwatch. This plan only worked as long as Luda remained in sight.

We wait, occasionally sharing a glance, agreeing to an unsaid understanding between us. We stay until we know more.

The silence holds with occasional birdsong, the wind in the trees and no more. Just as we are about to relax the tension on our bows, Luda waves us over to the front door.

She places a finger across her lips, and we follow. A narrow way, tools marks between stretches of natural stone indicate the path has been smoothed and/or levelled. Off to the left is an entrance. Luda steps across the entrance, while waving behind herself, inviting us to enter.

Under flickering candlelight, we take in an astonishing view. The husband is laying upon his consort, both with their pants down in the animal rutting position and pale green bottoms facing the doorway. Black blood oozes from a spear wound in the centre of his back, dripping off his body to join a similar stream tracking down his partner’s waist. Confirming one thrust claimed both of their lives. We both swallow, neither of us believing Luda capable of such a strike and in cold blood, yet the evidence is before both of us.

Edging up beside her, I whisper, “Do we know where the hidden nock is?”

Luda shakes her head.

Duzsia whispers, “I think I have a plan. I will try to imitate the wife’s voice and call the young one, Gigia to come help. Did either of you pick up his name?”

Luda and I shake our heads. I don’t have another plan, so support Duzsia. “When you are ready.”

“Luda draw your bow and back up the path. Your task will be to scan above us in case the young one hurries over the top. Koria, aim down the path, take the first clean release and I will try to as well although I will be concentrating on getting my voice right.”

Luda and I are ready and then we hear Duzsia call out.

“Gigia, come quick my husband has fallen and cracked his head …”

The echo in the cavern is deafening yet hearing Duzsia say the words right beside me, I can’t believe the effect. There is concern and worry in the timber of her voice, yet the wording is well-chosen avoiding an intruder alert otherwise the young guard and probably the experienced guard would come running armed and wary.

“Hold on,” she calls back. Her young high voice music to our ears.

Shortly after, with light steps, she hurries around the corner of the path and has time to throw her eyes wide and then an arrow shaft sprouts from the right one, two-thirds of the shaft passing through. Her body flips backwards from the force.

“What is happening?” asks a male voice from above us.

I scan above us and see no one. Behind us? How? Then a body drops with a thunk at our feet, the bone tip of an arrow protruding from the back of his skull. We recognise him as the experienced guard and not a latecomer much to our relief.

Luda approaches us, slightly sheepish looking. “He must not have seen me up against the trail wall until he was above you and when he turned to face me, I released.”

“Excellent marksmanship sister,” I say and pat her on her back. “He must have run along the higher ledges or something and headed directly for the room …”

“How did he know? I called once, the echo and he arrived only several heartbeats after the young one,” adds Duzsia.

Luda sighs. “Are you two that old already? He was giving her some tips … if you understand. They have what, one shift to make nice with each other?”

Duzsia and I smirk and nod. The bone tip arrows are perfect, their death places are perfect.

Duzsia places a hand on Luda’s shoulder. “Go high, either right or left side, probably our left side is best. Most look to their right first, their stronger handed side and the extra time should help. If you aren’t spotted wait for them to enter the cave before you try to stalk them, we can’t afford any runaways.”

My sister nods and searches for a place to climb while Duzsia and I follow the path deeper into the cavern. Like the elder’s cave, there is a higher platform within, like the hoof of a boar this machine creature must also have a hoofprint I reason. There are no stairs, so we search and find the ladder, placing it into convenient footholds. Both facts confirm we are in the right place. We also conclude there is no way the experienced guard stood here; he couldn’t make the distance. Climbing the ladder, we arrive at a completely flat and level section of the cavern. In the middle is an outline of a person, approaching, our eyes settle upon a fading dull-white one-piece shirt and pants, yet more than that, the hands and feet have coverings, the head has a solid round covering, all strange. Duzsia taps my shoulder, and we reach for a glove each and under our gentlest of grips, we hear cracking and immediately stop.

“This has been here too long,” she says.

Circling, I inspect the suit, trying to find out how it stands unaided.

“A single pole of some sort holds up the armour. Perhaps we could lower the entire armour as is onto a blanket and then carrying an end each, carefully steal it?”

“Does the pole need to be cut?” asks Duzsia while holding Lord Hob’s axe and his bronze knife.

“I don’t think so because the pole is new. Set out the blanket and I will try to lift the pole and armour.”

She nods while taking off her backpack to retrieve and then spread out a blanket. When I see it ready, I lift and with ease, the pole rises. From behind there is easy access to grip the pole as the armour is open somehow. As the pole clears the hole it jerks forward suddenly, and I catch the additional weight before the armour crashes into the ground. I watch Duzsia holding her hands out trying to help yet unable to touch and stifle a giggle, much to her annoyance. With careful strength, I lower the pole and armour onto the blanket. There are crunching sounds, yet we have no other option. Duzsia throws me a rope while she ties her rope to one end of the blanket and I follow her lead while she puts her backpack back on, axe and knife inside. Holding our ropes, we lift and carry the armour to the edge of the platform and then leaning over we lower our ends in harmony until safe on the lower ground. After we climb down the ladder, I decide to take a moment and place the ladder out of the way. Without climbing to check you can’t be certain the armour is there or not and a search for the ladder will cause delay.

We wind our way along the path back to the front door. Passing the lover's room, we greet Luda laying above the doorway.

“Four more relief guards are on their way. When they didn’t see the front door guards, they stopped to chat.” She swivels around on her belly. “The four are still there. I wonder why they don’t send for help. Obviously, something is wrong if the front door guards aren’t on duty,” she whispers.

“Do they look like they are waiting,” asks Duzsia.

“Seems so.”

“Perhaps they know the husband and wife use this time for their lovemaking?” says Duzsia wrinkling her nose.

I stifle a chuckle while nodding. “Do we wait?”

“They are moving into the cavern … wait,” she whispers.

We hear them chat, some laughter. Did someone tell a joke? I pick up a few words here and there, yet none make much sense as they fade away.

“They are leaving?” Luda’s voice goes high due to surprise.

“Now,” says Duzsia. I pick up my rope end and she does likewise. “Ease your way to the entrance Luda and warn us if anyone approaches.”

We wind our way to the front door, peering into the forest from the shadow of the front door as best we can. Luda leaps over us to reach the other high side and then drops to her belly.

After a time Duzsia asks her, “Anything move out there?”

“No Duzsia, I think we should go.”

Duzsia faces me and nods. She leads the way back up the forest trail branching off at the game trail we travelled in the morning.

“Wait,” hisses Duzsia.

I look over my shoulder.

“I can’t hear Luda following us …” she answers my querying look.

I bite my lip and feel my hands shake. I can’t hear her either, yet I calm myself, no noise surely means no combat and therefore no death, no wounding. What if she was surprised?

“Hurry,” says Duzsia. My face must show my angst. “We will hide the armour with Milga and then return for her.”

We can’t stay here and possibly be caught, that wouldn’t help Luda either. I lift the rope and follow Duzsia’s lead, hurrying as quickly and as safely as we can backtracking our morning trail. After way too long we spy a shorter tree between two taller trees standing alone. We pause, don’t all trees look alike, yet this feels right. Milga pops her head up from behind the smaller tree and with relief, Duzsia leads us around the three trees and into our brambles tunnel as Milga holds the doorway open. I swap the door for my rope and Milga follows Duzsia further up the tunnel while I exit and close the door behind them. I take up Milga’s perfect watch position beside the smaller tree.

Time passes, dusk is approaching when a hand drops on my shoulder. I glance back hopeful. You know, the sibling contest, younger sister sneaking up on older sister, yet Duzsia stands behind me.

“Do you want to go look?” she whispers.

“I know it would be folly, but I can’t leave her without at least trying.”

Duzsia nods. “Milga and I will take the armour and wait for as long as we can at the river headwaters. Remember we told Kor to wait at most ten days.”

My turn to nod. I hand Duzsia my backpack and empty my quiver of iron-tipped arrows exchanging them for Duzsia’s bone tipped ones. Flint everything would be ideal now, but we couldn’t think or take everything. I grab the back of Duzsia’s head while her hands are full of arrows and force a kiss upon her lips.

“For luck,” I say and then trot down the game trail.

With a reasonable distance yet to go, I slow down my pace and assume every Flint Arrows goblin is hunting for me. The night is upon me as I approach the cavern, or at least think I do. A rustle and then a body hit knocks the wind from me. I stifle a yelp; I don’t need others joining this one as I try to wrestle the body off me grabbing at wrists to prevent any stabbing action. Then all the fight disappears from my assailant.

“Sister,” she hisses.

“Luda? Is that you?”

I feel her finger across my lips and her hot breath upon my neck as she whispers in my ear, “We need to leave.”

My turn to breathe on her neck. “How are we to see in the dark?”

She rolls off me and then helps me up.

“One moment.”

She returns bumping into me and then the narrowest of lights illuminates the game trail at our feet. I don’t have a chance to ask any questions as my sister leads us down the game trail. She heads down the wrong path and I tap her shoulder and she backtracks several steps until we can take the other choice. The three trees appear before us, and I hurry her forward, my relief almost overflowing. I ask Luda to shine the light on the brambles and after more time than I would like I find the door and open it hustling Luda inside. Following her, my ears finally overhear what I thought but can’t believe, a hunting party. I quickly close the door, threading in the cross brambles as best I can in the dark. Any light this close to the edge of the brambles in the dark would be easily seen, I think. In fact, I worry about shining the light further along, yet higher in the mountains, thankfully Luda realised as well because we are in complete darkness. I finish, certain the lock isn’t as secure as possible, although I accept staying any longer won’t change anything.

I crawl on hands and knees up the tunnel eventually bumping into Luda who stifles her surprise. We continue in the darkness, taking the occasional scrape and scratch when the unseen tunnel bends. I tap her on the bottom, deciding we must rest until daybreak. We lay side by side for warmth and fall asleep.

Upon waking I inspect Luda’s candle lamp, a carved wooden enclosure, with a slot door. Clever.

“I needed to kill two more visitors, elders I think given their age and the fact their clothes were identical. Hiding their bodies took most of the time and then an entourage, giggling, for the most part, were upon me. They didn’t enter the cave. I suppose waiting for the elders. I needed to sneak away in stages and when I finally thought myself free, I ran into you. Sorry sister.”

“They carried the lamp?”

She nods.

I pat her shoulder. “Make your way to the river headwaters, with luck if you hurry, Duzsia and Milga should be waiting for you. Ask Duzsia to wait half a day if she can and I will follow. I must secure the bramble door properly, otherwise prodding the right side of the door could reveal our tunnel.”

“Be safe sister, I will wait for you even if Duzsia doesn’t.”

I ignore her tearing, turning away to race down the tunnel. Downhill is always easier, but you need to measure your steps and as I approach the door I drastically slow, stepping one foot at a time and listening. There are voices beyond the door, not clear, they are possibly in camp or holding a meeting. While I wait, I inspect last night’s attempt. My blood runs cold, as I confirm the left side is bound well, the other not so much. With the right push, the bramble door would act like a proper door, except the swing will stop because the depth of the door is too great. But the exposed neat cut on one side will lead to further investigation without a doubt. I withdraw a length from the fake hinge side and thread the opening side. Four transfers in and I hear voices approaching and stop dead.

“Do we know where the elders are? Why they were even on the mountainside of the forest?” asks one.

“No clue, there isn’t anything here of importance, old age, following an animal or finding some plants, who knows,” says the other.

The first chuckles. “What about the haunted cavern?”

“Nah, none of my troop are going anywhere forbidden, one of the other elders with his special guard should be investigating later today.”

“What of the elders.” A hear a cough. “Entourage …” They both release a boisterous laugh.

“The young girls have been asked to return to their parents …” A loud chuckle. “They can be initiated next season!” Again, with the laughing.

“You two! You haven’t got time to laugh about the place, the elders are missing now get your troops searching.”

I hear their rapid footsteps fade and feel relief. Then some mumbling. “Erm at least they can’t lose themselves up the mountain, bloody brambles.” Something? Probably his foot crashes into the bramble door and tangles. Cursing under his breath he pulls, and tugs and I need to hold the door in place. Finally, he frees his foot, swears, and stomps off. I work like I am possessed and thread the edges of the entire shape evenly. I would like to add more threads, yet the bone knife I have would fail to cut any lengths. I begin my climb back up the mountainside and reach the top late morning and race across the outside roof of the cave. Once across I stare at the brambles, they all look the same.

I search for tracks, yet if Milga leveraged her skill I will be hard-pressed to find anything. I drop to the ground in defeat, the middle day sun bearing down upon me, no food, and no water. What are my choices?

“Sister!”

The sound of her voice is wonderous. I turn to spot her head sticking out of a section of brambles and run to meet her.

She is shaking her head at me, and I slow. She points at the ground and my multiple footprints.

“Water and then I will erase them?”

After drinking the water, Luda helpfully hands me a bramble. “Milga said she will inspect, so you better do a quality job sister, you know how she is with this stuff.”

---

We arrive at the stream mid-afternoon as Milga kept sending me back out until satisfied. I find the armour lying in a pool of water, Milga and Duzsia have created a shallow rock pool by the river shore under sunlight although this late, the sunlight is almost gone replaced by shade from the brambles. I prod the armour and can instantly notice the difference between yesterday’s fragile artifact and the solid armour of today.

“We will shift the armour to the shore overnight. I expect the water to be gone or used by then so we can use the blanket again as a carry in the morning. I didn’t think it would recover yet it has to a certain extent,” explains Duzsia.

“Can I try an experiment? We would need to shift the armour into the sun more and hope the water inside is enough.”

“What experiment?”

I stare into Duzsia’s eyes. “By laying the armour in water and under the sunlight you have proven, like all things to do with Lord Farmer Hob they are beneficial. So, I am now wondering about blood. Mine wouldn’t be as strong as his, yet if the armour reacts the repair may be quicker. What do you say?”

She smiles. “There is no real cost to try. Grab a rope end and we will lift the armour across until fully in sunlight again.”

We shuffle across, needing Milga and Luda to help due to the weight of the water inside. I inspect the length and width of the armour trying to determine an ideal spot. There is a sort of flat box thing at the waist, not armour because a half-deteriorated flap usually covers it by the looks. I ask for a knife and Duzsia hands me Lord Farmer Hob’s bronze knife. I slice my hand and clench so the blood drips steady one drop following the next to land on this box. I am not certain if the water dilutes and disappears the blood or the blood is absorbed. As I stare at the armour in the fading sunlight searching for a sign of change, I notice my reflection in the clear see-through front half of the helm not realising then as I do now what awaited me. With help, we move the armour once more, so the dying afternoon sun shines down on the entire armour again.

Still nothing.

I attack the hardtack evening meal to relieve my frustration. I accept my blood wouldn’t be as strong as Lord farmer Hob’s, but no reaction. When all others are asleep, I roll about trying to settle and calm my annoyance, finally falling asleep late into the night. Consequently, everyone wakes before I do. Everything is normal, everyone is normal and going through the motions to break camp. Taking a bite out of a stale apple I stare down at the armour. Apart from the water drying up overnight, no change. Duzsia’s call wakes me from my disappointment, and I take a rope and wave her forward. I don’t think I have the wits about me today to lead.

By late afternoon we reach the brambles exit near the wild forest edge, with the cliff not too far further west.

“Will we return to Kor in time?” I ask.

Duzsia shakes her head. “We could if we took the easiest ways, but we wouldn’t get far before being asked questions.”

“Our food is running low also,” adds Luda.

Milga steps forward gaining our attention. “Hand me the axe, we should carve a tunnel in the brambles around the cliff. The mountains haven’t been gouged out, so two more days, our food will last that long, and we will be in the high forest above the cliff, where no one has ever gone, let alone hunted. We will then have time to think, whereas standing here offers no safety or progress.”

Duzsia shrugs and hands Milga the axe. We repeat our turns, eat the last of our food and two days later find ourselves facing the high forest, evaluating the thick undergrowth, and dense old-growth trees before us. All agree to skirt the edge of the mountain, keeping to the light forest outskirts of the high forest to make the best distance. We make camp again near the end of the day beside the first mountain stream we come across. The armour goes in, and we eat the last of our trail food.

We wake the next morning to face a decision, where next?

“The headwaters of the northern side river must be close. Where it flows over the boulders is an easy day march on the edge of the forest, which would probably take two, maybe three days hacking through this undergrowth.” Milga waves at the forest before us. “When we find a game trail we can follow and hunt, but we return to our trail always.”

“What about getting lost?” asks Luda.

“We will need to climb a tree, the nearby mountains will be easy to use to mark our position,” answers Milga, almost casually.

“Then we have a plan,” declares Duzsia.

Three days later, carrying the hindquarter of a slain docile beast, we discover the upper reaches of the northern river. The other quarter fed us well, while the rest of the carcass had to remain behind, including the soft fur on a thin hide that interested the hunter in all of us.

We follow the river east until we find a section aligned east-west so the sun never strays from the water and construct another rock pool to bath the armour in under full sunlight. Luda and I then set about constructing a lean-to for the night while Duzsia hunts for tomorrow’s food and Milga prepares a firepit.

Over a campfire, we roast the hindquarter of our first kill in this forest while Duzsia’s kill is hung to bleed.

Somehow, we all wear the same funny face; content, happy, free, a powerful mixture, the campfire light waving across them all. Then Milga adds breastfeeding to the mix. The mothers without our babes keep our sadness to ourselves forcing ourselves to share in Milga’s joy. None of us suggests she should give up breastfeeding, because her child is past the usual age, we simply let everything be.

“We can still follow the plan.” Duzsia’s simple statement breaks our serenity, her words forcing us to face our situation.

“What of the armour?” I ask.

“Simple, since I will be missing, presumed dead, I will stay with the armour until fully repaired and then dig a grave beside this river and once buried mark it with stones. Then I will be on my way. Milga can still run for help when south of The Farm, Koria and Luda can still be saved by my sacrifice, and I will still be gone.”

That became our plan …

He calls me again, this time worse than the last, I resist. I deny him with every effort I can muster. I just need to outlast another. I didn’t know that before, but I do now, the urge is strong and then there is a sudden release as if those tugging on the rope surrender. Another of his wives must have satisfied his call, it is the only explanation. If he called me directly by name, would there be no escape for me? Again, I feel the call and I avoid returning to him. Yet that means three wives have joined him now. How many did he have? Nine? Ten? I simply need to out will the others, until he calls no more.

With endless time I should be able to forget the horrific visage of doom I glimpsed, shouldn’t I? The reflected face of my father, then my sister, within moments of each other, each the same, stark, and devoid of hope. Somehow, I feel myself shiver with dread, or my mind remembers solely to punish me because I have no body in the darkness. The agent of their fates confirmation I have betrayed Lord Farmer Hob, my foolhardy attempt to achieve redemption leading instead to misery. Somehow a Warrior Hob once again stalked the valley and I don’t know how, yet I am certain I am to blame.

Why couldn’t I have left well enough alone? I am truly my mother’s daughter except I will be a selfish misguided manipulator for all time, instead of for one lifetime.