Latgalay found the door open when she reached Karreki’s nest. The inside was just as cold as the night, and frost was upon the air. Inside Latgalay found Karreki slumped slumped forward on the table, and her chest was barely moving. Latgalay rushed to Karreki and put an ear to her back. The old woman was cold. Besides her, the scrying bowl had been knocked over, with water spilt across the table and dirt floor.

Latgalay threw a fur over the crone’s back and tossed logs onto the fire, which sent sparks falling out as the embers caught flame. The nest was small, and would heat soon, but Karreki was cold, and needed warmth now.

Listening again to Karreki gasp, Latgalay whispered ‘drougos’ and with her power felt Karreki’s chest. Every breath Karreki took was damp, and her lungs were clogged with foul-water.

The kettle had been over the fire all this time, and just now began to heat up. Though not being nearly hot enough to brew a proper tincture, Latgalay had no time to waste. She threw nettle, cedar’s root, and hopperswort into the water and she pressed down with a cloth, using her bare hand, despite the heat. Pulp escaped the rushed filtering, and the nettle had barely time to cover the hopperswort, but it would have to do. At least Karreki would not have to taste the foul brew.

Latgalay set the liquid to Karreki’s mouth. This part would be difficult, as Karreki could not drink on her own. The wolf whined again. Latgalay grabbed Karreki by her scalmp and tilted her head. She dribbled the tincture in. Karreki’s wheezing sputtered, some went down her lungs, but most worked its way down her throat. Latgalay massaged her neck, helping the tea down the right passage.

~

What must have been an hour later, Karreki’s yellowed eyes finally cracked open. She looked up at Latgalay and jerked up from where she laid.

“How long?” Karreki asked.

“All night, since I left maybe.” Latgalay answered, before asking, “What did you scry that was worth your health?”

“Not scrying. I sent a message. About you, girl.” Karreki smacked her lips and made a face. “Hopperswort? I taught you better than that.”

Latgalay struggled to keep her voice calm. “And what would you have used hopperswort’s place, knowing the brew would be cold? What choice did I have? What choice did you give me? You knew your lungs were rotten. Yet you kicked me out and taxed yourself by doing what only the spirits’ know.”

“Better tasting medicines could have done the same,” Karreki muttered. She frowned at the tincture. “I’m too old for this…Go warm me some mead to get this foul taste off my tongue. And then sit down.” Karreki continued speaking as Latgalay prepared their drinks upon the fire. “I am old. My time is short and you still have much to learn. You know too few runes. You are still a child. As much a girl as when I found the spark within you.”

Latgalay set the mead down before both Karreki and herself. The honeyed liquor had heated while Karreki droned, and for a second time that night, Latgalay indulged in the warmth of honeyed liquor.

“What message did you send?” Latgalay asked. She took a sip; her head still buzzed from the feast.

Karreki winced as she took a swallow. “Boldjay, the druid from the north tribe, has agreed to apprentice you. Though be sure to keep your maiden’s head when you go to him. He is not like I, and he has been known to...well. You will find out.” Karreki crackled once before choking.

“But…” Latgalay felt numb all over and her mind fogged over. “Wha-what about you. What about all the time I’ve put in here?”

Karreki shrugged. “What are another seven years?”

Another seven years, because an apprentice must be apprenticed to a single druid for seven years, before passing through the mists. Changing mentors was akin to beginning anew, despite the knowledge Latgalay had already gained under the crone Karreki. And Latgalay had already put years into this apprenticeship. She could not conceive beginning anew with another crone, or with some perverted old druid. The thought made her shudder. What were seven more years, except the world?

An urgent rap then came from the door. “Jaxtos and his men,” a voice called from outside. “There are urgent matters to discuss.”

Karreki sounded irritated as she answered without getting up. “And are these matters so pressing that you rouse an old woman from bed?”

Latgalay did not wait for Karreki’s approval before she opened the door and let Jaxtos, Morwen, Trexnos, and the scout Krag into the nest. The number of bodies left the small space cramped. Trexnos’s face paled when he saw the shriveled heads hanging in the corner, and his eyes kept flickering to the jars stuffed with ingredients. They did linger of Latgalay, but only for a second--too short of a second.

“We have need to see the south, to see the Laeten lands beyond the wall,” Jaxtos said. He set the wooden scrying bowl upright on the table and filled the bowl with water.

Karreki shook her head. “You cannot demand this of me,” she said.

“Can he not?” Morwen asked. “He is your chief.”

“I am old, tired, and unwell. The spirits are not so lively as they once were. Come back tomorrow, and I may do as you ask.”

“This cannot wait until tomorrow, crone,” Morwen said as he pointed his finger at Karreki’s face. “Give us the word now. We need to see if the word brought by this scout is true: Have the Laetens abandoned the southern valleys? Are their harvests ripe for plunder?”

“I told you they have,” Krag said. “I saw with mine own eyes. Their galleys have sailed. Their legions have left. Only rich merchants and fat farmers remain.”

“And what is this boy’s word worth?” Morwen said, with the corners of his mouth lifting. “Should Jaxtos commit warriors based on what you say alone? You, an unblooded warrior? One who might have never—“

“Hold,” Jaxtos said as he waved Morwen down with a hand. “The young scout has done his duty.”

Morwen turned back to Karreki. “So scry for us. Let us see the land of the Laetens. Unless you are too feeble. Perhaps we should take your mantle for gall?” Morwen giggled as he shamed Karreki. The poet and crone had never known peace between them, and had always been rivals, since Morwen had arrived.

Jaxtos put a firm hand on Morwen’s shoulder and squeezed. “Hold, friend,” Jaxtos said. “My father told tales of Karreki the Earth-Shaker. I myself have seen her shatter boulders with but a word. I would not have her ire against me. Or my poet.”

Morwen shrugged. “As you say.” He gave a partial bow.

Karreki struggled to her feet and her cane shook under her weight. Latgalay helped her rise and remain standing, holding the crone steady. Karreki seemed more feeble than just moments prior, almost as though the crone were making a show of her infirmity.

“I am too old for this talk and I cannot rest until you leave,” Karreki said, before falling back into her chair before the fire. Latgalay wrapped Karreki’s shawl about the crone’s shoulders, before Latgalay’s curiosity bested her better sense.

“But what are your plans?” Latgalay asked the chief. “ Perhaps this apprentice may be of aid.”

Karreki chortled but kept her peace, content to drink her mead by the fire, while Latgalay attempted to ingratiate herself to these men of power. Perhaps the chief may be a source of aid, Latgalay thought.

“I believe the Laetens have left the lands to the south undefended,” Jaxtos said. “Tomorrow, my son shall lead our warriors to a victorious raid. And the spoils of their lands shall become our own. Our people shall not starve this winter.”

“Trexnos will raid across the wall?” Latgalay asked.

The wall that divided the land, the wall that the Laetens had built, to keep the tribes locked away in the frigid hills and swamps of the north. The same wall that was guarded zealously, the wall that protected the farms and the towns and the riches of the south.

“Then the wall is now defenceless against our might,” Trexnos said, speaking with pride. “Let us leave now, father. We will find no help here tonight, and we have much to prepare, if we are to strike before the other tribes take their fill.”

Jaxtos paused after Morwen and Trexnos had both turned towards the door. He nodded to Latgalay. “I shall see you both on the morrow. The war party must be chosen and blessed.”

After Jaxtos had left, Latgalay sat on the bricks by the hearth and held her hands together. She stared at the flames for a while and listened to Karreki labored breaths.

“Is it wise to deny the chief?” Latgalay asked finally. There had been ways to answer the chief’s and poet’s questions without overly taxing the crone.

“Bah,” Karreki said. “Jaxtos knows his place.”

“And Morwen?”

“He is like a buzzing fly. The more you swat, the more he pesters,” Karreki spat. “The poet, he thrives off foolishness.”

“You told the chief no,” Latgalay said, still lost in thought. “Who else could do that? Could I, one day?”

Karreki looked off into space and spoke. “If you maintain your dignity. If you learn all it means to be a druid. If you listen and speak for the spirits. Then yes, you may one day stand by the chief’s side and direct him, and perhaps you may find cause to deny him. But this shall not be a joy, nor a privilege. But a duty.”

Latgalay stared sullenly at the flames. She did not like the sound of this if. During the past years of her apprenticeship, she had always assumed that her place as druid was certain. After all, Karreki could not live forever, and one day, Latgalay’s turn would come. But now, Latgalay did not know if this would be true, and this troubled her greatly.

“You are upset to travel to another tribe?” Karreki finally asked, breaking the silence.

Latgalay did not answer. Not at first. What could she say to Karreki? The woman that had taken Latgalay in, shown her the ways of old, the ways of power, and Karreki had given Latgalay every scant thing that Latgalay now held dear. How could Latgalay deny Karreki’s wishes? But what of Latgalay’s own wishes. Was Latgalay not ready?

“I forget how impatient the young are,” Karreki said. “You and Jaxtos and all the men. All so young. Children playing at games you--“ Karreki broke off in a cough, allowing Latgalay to finally give her answer.

“No. Another seven years is no small amount of time,” Latgalay said. “I should not have to start anew, as though I know nothing. I have learned all that you know. Let me take the test. Let me dance for the spirits. Introduce me to the mists. Grant to me my companion.”

After Karreki finished coughing, she sipped her mead in silence for a long while. But eventually, she answered. “Our people once spread across this land and the next. We had great cities and greater groves and the greatest oaks. The spirits walked with us and we knew their ways. The druids held true power. But now. Now we are reduced to huddling with sheep for warmth. We have kept a handful of brine from the ocean we lost.”

“We are not weak!” Latgalay burst in. “Tales are still sung about Karreki the Earth-Shaker—“

“We are weak!” Karreki spat. “Each generation grows weaker. Soon, we shall all die. And then there will be none left. Not Unless you learn. Learn the ways of old, all of the ways. Learn from the other tribes. Piece together what has been lost. This is a rare chance I have given you, that I have given to our people. You can learn from the other druids, you can--“ she coughed and sputtered, until she struggled for breath.

Eventually, Karreki forgot what she meant to say, and Latgalay helped the crone to her pile of thresh and her blankets. Latgalay had much to consider as she slept besides the crone.