Latgalay slammed the door behind her and left the crone to cough. She followed the scent of roasting mutton, honeyed spices, and woodsmoke. The beating drums reverberated through the forest, and she could not help but twirl with each step.

The villagers gathered around the fire pits. Five great bonfires had been set, and the largest burned in the middle where Chief Jaxtos and his son Trexnos would be. With the leader of the tribe at the center, that was where a druid should stand. Since Karreki would not attend, Latgalay decided that she would go in the crone’s stead.

Before she reached even the first bonfire, already a few warriors called to her. They wanted her to dance. She ignored these lesser men and continued pushing through. From behind, a calloused hand grabbed her shoulder.

“And do you plan to dance all the night?” A stern woman asked. “Or plan you to work your share?”

Latgalay turned to find Gerna, one of the tribe’s matriarchs, who took her hand off Latgalay’s shoulder and crossed them.

“I did,” Latgalay said. “All day in Karreki’s nest, I’ve—“

Gerna raised the back of her hand as though to strike. “Fool girl, I don’t want your excuses. Get off to help the other girls.”

“I am a druid!” Latgalay protested.

Gerna backhanded Latgalay. “Only an apprentice,” Gerna said. “Which means you are still nothing. And even less than nothing, if Karreki dies before you finish your seven years. You would be out with the dogs then. Out with the whores. Out in the mud, just as you were born.” Gerna raised her hand to strike again. “Now get to work with the rest of your ilk.”

Latgalay’s cheek still stung from where Gerna had struck her. Gerna was too thick and too strong for Latgalay to win a fair fight against the matron. And besides, Gerna was aunt to Chief Jaxtos. Even if Latgalay could win the fight, it would not do well for relations with the man. For now, Latgalay decided to bide her time, and to do as Gerna demanded.

Just then, one of the kenbennass danced by, and she laughed at Latgalay. “Perhaps you need a few more years, eh?” The kenbennas said to Latgalay before the dancing circle carried the kenbennass away.

Latgalay watched as she left, clenching her jaw. That foolish kenbennas should not forget who would have true power soon. But until that day, Latgalay would be forced to serve the likes of Gerna.

Latgalay gritted her teeth and made her way to one such fire where the food and drink were prepared. There were many such fires, and Latgalay chose the one that stood closest to where the chief would be, in the hopes of catching the eye of the chief’s son. When she arrived at the fire, she found a spitted sheep, and a cauldron of steaming mead. An obviously pregnant girl, named Kainis, stood watch over the cooking food. Latgalay decided to try just standing near Kainis, hoping that the proximity to the labor would satisfy Gerna.

It did not.

Gerna checked over all the cooking fires, and soon she came to the fire that Kainis tended, where Gerna found Latgalay standing idle.

“Stir the mead,” Gerna demanded of Latgalay. “Keep it from burning. If you can do that much.”

Kainis passed Latgalay a great ladle and shrugged an apology. All of the girls knew how quick Gerna was to anger, and they strived to stay within her good graces. However, Latgalay was not one of the girls. She was an apprentice to Karreki herself, and Latgalay should not be forced to demean herself. She looked dumbly at the wooden ladle in her hands instead, and remained that way for a moment too long. Gerna hissed and took a step towards Latgalay, preparing to strike her once more.

Before Gerna reached her, Latgalay decided that it would be wise to follow the matron’s instructions, at least so long as Gerna was near, and Latgalay began stirring the cauldron of mead. Gerna scoffed and left towards the other cook fires, but she never completely took her eye off Latgalay. This forced Latgalay to remain stirring the mead, though she would have much rather been out seeking her prey. Despite this setback, not all was lost. Kainis was pleasant, if plain, company, and the spices and the apples and the fumes of honeyed liquor rose from the cauldron, leaving Latgalay just a little bit dizzy, but not in an unpleasant manner.

“I am surprised Gerna got you,” Kainis said. “Of everyone, I figured you would get it easy tonight with Karreki.”

“Karreki is not all rosebuds either,” Latgalay said, feeling her stomach growl. “You think you could cut me a slice of meat? While we wait? I am sure some of that is done by now.”

Kainis shook her head. “It is done, it is true. But the warriors must be served first. And do not think that you are the only one that is left hungry.” She said as she rubbed her swollen belly. “But Gerna is watching.” And as Kainis said this, Gerna was indeed scowling towards them, from the next fire over.

“Is your husband off dancing then, while you are left to work?” Latgalay asked.

“Husband?” Kainis shook her head. “I wish…I do not have any man claimed, despite a few claiming me.”

“Oh,” Latgalay said without tact. She should have known better than to ask that question. Obviously, Kainis had no prospects, and likely laid with shepherds. Latgalay shuddered at the thought. If only Latgalay were allowed to visit the village more often, then she would have already known that gossip, and she would have avoided that question.

The warriors finished the dance and they lined up to get their mutton and mead. As Latgalay planned, Chief Jaxtos stepped to the nearest cooking spit, to the nearest mead, which was where Latgalay now stood. Jaxtos started the line, followed by his poet Morwen, followed by his son, Trexnos, followed by a blonde kenbennas, and then followed by his hundred warriors. Kainis cut off thick slabs of mutton for each of them, and Latgalay filled their drinking horns.

Jaxtos took his mead from Latgalay, and he did not even glance her way. Latgalay was already grinding her teeth, but so long as Trexnos caught her eye, then she could salvage the night. Up next was Morwen—tall and skinny—who took double the mead with double the drinking horns, and he ignored the mutton. As Latgalay filled Morwen’s cups, his eyes caught Kainis’ swollen belly, and he japed a crude poem.

Oh round one, how much more fun you were, before you grew, to roll on your back and mount.

But much less fun you are, swollen and fat, now that you look like that.

It was not a great poem by any means, but the men already were drunk, and they cheered the poet’s antics.

“But now she is even easier to mount,” Jaxtos shouted, and all his warriors laughed.

“Ah yes,” Morwen said, as he watched Latgalay pour mead. “But there are always others, always younger, softer, and sweeter to be had.” He licked his lips. Latgalay once again shuddered that night.

Trexnos laughed, and the blonde kenbennas slapped his shoulder. They were both smiling as they stepped forward for their fill. As Latgalay poured mead for Trexnos, she tried her best to catch his eyes, but he never looked away from that blonde woman, that kenbennas.

After the last man went through, only the dregs of the mead were left, and only the bones of the carcass remained. Kainis picked off some grizzle and offered it to Latgalay, who refused. Kainis shrugged and began gnawing on the joints.

Latgalay scraped the bottom of the cauldron and held the ladle to her mouth. The hot spice made her nose run and left her throat warm. She offered the ladle to Kainis, and the two of them finished the dregs. They both were dizzier than earlier, when they both caught glimpse of Gerna stalking towards them, with a perpetual scowl upon her face.

Latgalay pulled on Kainis’s hand, and they stumbled away in the opposite direction. They pushed through revelers, dancers, and men and women, all of them swinging each other around to the mad and beastial rhythm.

“Where do we go?” Kainis asked.

“To dance,” Latgalay said as she picked her feet with the music. Each step, each turn, brought her closer to the center, closer to where Jaxtos and Trexnos feasted.

“I think we lost Gerna,” Kainis said. Latgalay barely heard her friend over the sounds of the drums. The tempo was faster and more furious than before.

A man with a spotty beard grabbed Latgalay and swung her around. She lost her grip on Kainis and was tossed between three men in beat with the drums. Latgalay passed two other maidens and finally a third before Latgalay escaped that circle.

“You should have finished that dance,” Kainis said. “You will have men seeking your hand.”

“These are men?” Latgalay scoffed, before pulling Kainis along. As they approached the center, the crowd grew thicker, and many more men grabbed for Latgalay. She was swept off her feet twice more, and she was swung around enough to leave her dizzier than ever.

Finally, Latgalay reached the center, where she could at least see the warriors. Among them, somewhere, would be Trexnos. Latgalay went to pull Kainis a few steps further, but Kainis did not budge.

“You go on,” Kainis said. “I am not fit for this circle.” She glanced to Latgalay before retreating back to the circle they had just left.

Latgalay felt a twinge of sorrow as Kainis left. That could have been her if not for Karreki. But the sorrow was short lived. Latgalay caught a momentary glimpse of Trexnos through the swirl of bodies. Latgalay saw the blonde kenbennas smile at Trexnos, and Latgalay could see Trexnos offer the kenbennas his hand.

Latgalay should have been there with Trexnos, not some kenbennas. Latgalay needed his attention, for him to attend her, not some kenbennas. But how? A fleeting thought turned to a serious consideration: Perhaps, perhaps to gain his gaze, she could dance the Slektu?

~

“Sway your hips,” Karreki had scolded. “Arc, circle, not abrupt, gentle! You think the spirits will be seduced by your pathetic display? Pick your feet up. Higher!”

It had been a night out on the river’s bank. Karreki had taken Latgalay there to test her Slektu—the dance for charming the spirits of the earth and mists. Latgalay had been ordered to strip, and now her only covering was a layer of sweat. The night was empty and cold, save for the drum that Karreki played.

“Higher!” Karreki called with a swat of her cane. Latgalay lifted her leg up behind her head and balanced upon the other.

“Now roll forward and twist again,” Karreki said.

Latgalay obliged. She had practiced this dance nightly. Karreki had said again and again that time was short. Latgalay knew most druids took six years before they even started to learn the Slektu. But Karreki had forced Latgalay to practice every night from the start. Yet tonight, tonight was different.

Karreki scattered hot coals from the fire out onto the sand where Latgalay stood with three limbs up in the air. One of the hot coals landed against her planted foot. Latgalay could not help but to yelp.

“Hold that pose,” Karreki said as she came near, stepping over the strewn embers.

She put a rough strip of cloth around Latgalay’s head and covered her eyes.

Karreki started to play the drum again.

“Now dance!” Karreki commanded.

Latgalay refused to move. She could not see the strewn coals. Each step could land her bare foot atop a hot ember and near cripple her with burns. And Karreki expected her to dance?!

“How?” Latgalay said. She was going to take the small cloth off her face when Karreki smacked Latgalay’s hand away with the cane.

“Use the Dusjos. Or do not,” Karreki said. “Do you think the spirits will be more pleasant than these coals?”

Latgalay controlled her breathing and calmed herself. She said the word softly, almost a whisper, ‘drougos,’ and she delved into all her surroundings. Never before had she taken in so much of her surroundings at once—her mind stretched.

~

A burly arm wrapped around Latgalay’s waist. A warrior tried pulling Latgalay down to his lap. She shook free and slapped him. A few of his friends laughed him down while she hurried away.

She finally came near enough to see Jaxtos above the crowd. Trexnos would be close to his father. She moved closer, past a kenbennas necking with a warrior, past kengets with common-girls on their laps.

It was then that Latgalay saw something out of place. Or rather, someone.

A man was hurrying through the crowds, shouting for them to make way, allowing him through to the center where the chief now stood. The man was a sentry from the eastern coasts. Latgalay thought his name Krag, so called for the scar that split his face.

The warriors moved in and were too thick for her to squeeze past. But as Karreki’s apprentice, and considering Karreki’s absence, Latgalay decided that she should have been up front with the chief, to hear what the sentry said, and to advise the chief, standing in for Karreki in her stead.

She circled in hopes of finding a way in. She heard a few shouts from the center. She thought she heard Morwen yell.

And then she heard a whine. Something nudged her haunch. She twisted, expecting to find another man behind her, and she was ready to strike back. However, instead she found Karreki’s wolf. The wolf whined once again and gestured with his head, as though he wanted her to follow him.

Latgalay felt a moment’s worry. Had something happened to Karreki? Or did she have another task for Latgalay. Another chore. Another scolding. Latgalay’s body ached, and she had more than one bruise from Karreki’s cane.

The wolf whined again, and those from the crowd that stood near parted to give the animal space. They all knew Karreki’s wolf. They thought the beast cursed, and for good reason. Where the wolf went, Karreki tended to follow. But not tonight.

The wolf turned and led the way back to Karreki’s nest.

And as they left, she saw Kainis. A drunk herdsman was pulling her towards a dark brush. Latgalay meant to speak to her friend before departing, but the wolf’s whine grew urgent. He barked and began to trot.

Latgalay ran after him.