As a witch and future holder of the tribe's lore, she’d been trained to memorise things even when distracted and as she played the last few minutes back she felt a surge of visceral anger. The slimy fat worm lied, her former Master lied and the Elder Shaman was making a sham of this, just going through the motions. She hadn't done anything wrong and what's more it was ridiculously easy to prove.

She'd been prejudged and she knew exactly by who, eyes flashing she thrust herself to her feet and spun to face her true accuser. Stabbing a finger at the false god she nearly screamed as she said, “The creature who accuses me lies from fear, fear that what I have discovered will lead all of you to see her for what she really is. I shouldn't need any to defend me because your own wisdom should inform you of the truth, but since none here seem to have any I say in my own defence that the land is dryer than it has been in the lifetime of one of the young. This is what drives the herds from their normal range, this is what sickens the grasses, this is what reduces the forage and this is what lowers the waters of the lake so far it turns green and poisonous. I say that the Elders have seen this many times, their own tales and stories have mentioned it often enough that even the dullest of the youth knows this truth. The truth that sometimes the rains fail and life becomes hard for all.”

Confusion spread across the faces in the tent, even the disapproving scowl on her former Master's face softened as she frowned in thought.

Before more than the merest rumble of questioning voices had been raised the false god spoke, her words like honeyed silk, “Friends you must be careful. You must not allow the dark magic of her words to poison the youth for she will surely turn the young against you. Who knows what other foul deeds she will perpetrate once the viper you have held to your bosom has her fangs sunk deeply into the young and she has them under her thrall. See her scheming as she stands there unbowed and oh so certain of her superiority. She disdains your careful wisdom, she disrespects your learning, she disregards your experience and will turn your very children against you. I do not presume to intervene in your justice but she should and must be silenced before you continue your trial. If she is left free to speak who knows what foulness she may create with her words, I implore you silence this viper before it is too late.”

The words were the ravings of a paranoid and insane crone. She could hear the falseness of them grating at her ears, making her wince and flinch away.

But it was clear that only her ears had heard the lies and the nonsense. She watched the spark of reason die out in every other eye in that tent, confusing thoughts replaced by blind doglike devotion.

She opened her mouth the scream at them to try and break the hold but she didn’t even make a squeak. Gut twisting she tried and tried to scream but her voice and along with it her only defence was gone, taken by a witches curse.

The cruel gloating smirk on the false god's face told her that creature knew exactly what she was thinking and was enjoying her suffering.

Her pulse sounded in her ears and a deep rage started building. She'd been angry before when she'd found she was to be punished for something everyone knew could not be her fault but that was nothing compared to the dark and sullen deep rage that was starting to build within her now.

The Elder Shaman held his hands out in a placating gesture and said, “As there seems to be some doubt over the source of the ills the child is accused of, I must call for witnesses from within the tribe to step forward and speak.”

Silenced and fuming Raelea had to sit there as a parade of tribesmen and women came forth and gave witness against her, every single word a lie. Her rage grew further as this pointless sham of a trial continued, it was clear the false god could have the tribesmen do and say whatever she wanted, why bother with this playacting?

Wait. Playacting. That was it. This was like one of the stories the hunters and warriors acted out when the snow piled above men's heads and people had to be entertained in the close confines of the tents. But why would the false god go to all this trouble?

Tuning out old lady Hulda's rambling about how she'd made the goats lose so much condition with her evil spells that they'd stopped milking she studied the false god and found her sitting forward, intensely engaged by the drama.

She was being used as nothing more than a doll in an ancient and vile creature's story.

The dark sullen pool of rage in her gut instantly became a white hot burn.

And that burning rage made her reckless.

If she was to be accused and clearly convicted of using dark magics she might as well make the reality match the fantasy of the story and Gods suffer the consequences.

She could not chant and knew none of power anyway, the only ones she knew were very minor utility ones, fire lighting, small vermin control and water purification but she did know the ritual for a familiar. She was to have performed the ritual in but a few tendays to bind herself a familiar and been very careful to not call on any of the dark, ancient and malevolent things that lurked between the worlds.

Instead she called for them specifically, offering them a bargain. A way into the world, all they had to do was kill the false god and she would make their habitation permanent.

She felt the icy burn of corruption and her heart quailed, she knew what she did was wrong but rage overrode her good sense and she paid the price, willingly

The building pulse of the call matched her heartbeat, drawing the savage and the hungry toward her.

She gave them magic and gave them form.

As screams rang across the tent she looked the false god in the eye and she smiled.

Light exploded in her vision as something slammed into her head and her sight greyed.

Surrounded by a spinning chaos of screaming and the rising chants of the Shaman as they called on their spirits to protect the tribe she was roughly hauled to her feet and dragged from the tent, head hanging low, between a pair of warriors.

Lashed bars of the cage door scraping they opened it and hurled her to the ground, she lay there for some time, head spinning and throbbing dully until an out of focus face entered her field of view.

“Stupid girl-child, why do something so idiotic? You've killed yourself and worse than just the quick slit throat you were going to get in the morning.” A hand harshly took hold of her hair and a small bowl was held to her mouth. “Drink, you will sleep and cause no more mischief.”

She twisted her head feebly trying to avoid the draught but it was futile, the Elder Witch was much too practised in feeding reluctant patients potions.

Monsters rose in the fevered spinning darkness of her nightmares as she slipped into unconsciousness.

She awoke confused, head spinning, gut cramping and with a mouth so dry her tongue rasped on it's roof and she felt like she was choking when she swallowed.

Working her mouth to try and get some saliva going to fight the dryness she sat up abruptly, startled to not be on the communal platform in the Witches tent surrounded by her sisters.

A deep voice spoke from the blackness outside the cage, her head spun with dizziness as snapped it around to look a who spoke, it was a man she vaguely recognised having seen him around the camp. One of the hunters.

“Good, you're awake. The whispers of the spirits said they'd purge the poison that held you in your nightmares but their words are not always truth or the hearer may misinterpret them.”

Raeleas voice cracked as she said, “Who speaks?”

“I am Hamoul. But that should mean nothing to you as you should mean nothing to me, past us both being members of the tribe. But you do. I am your father even though me knowing that is very much against the customs of our tribe. I know this because your mother, also very much against our customs had lain with no other for many turnings when she fell pregnant with you.” She heard a deep sadness in his voice at the mention of her mother, “Your mother was a strong willed woman and she would have her way. I was never as certain as she that the ways of the tribe were in error, children need strong and wise guidance. I firmly believe having the tribe's children raised by the Shaman and the Witches is the correct way of things.”

Raelea whispered, “Why are you telling me this? Why are you here?”

“Don't bother whispering, the guards are gone. Sent away at the Young God's word, also sent at her word is the Chief’s Man, acting as her hand and sent to kill you. You raised questions the Young God would rather had never been asked and she fears what else you may say. I know the man and your death would not be easy, or fast.

“Why I am here is easy, I am a failed Shaman and I hear the whispers of the spirits. They told me what was to happen and to come so I obeyed. A Shaman, even one who the spirits would not come for when called, listens when they speak.” She heard the lashed bars of the cage scrape across the ground as he dragged it open. “I have a pack here for you, sling, bedding, knife and some food. Head toward the mountains, the bogs at their feet are deep, trackless, and wild. If you are smart and resourceful none will ever find you and I am certain you are both. Your mother's blood would allow no less. She was a strong fierce warrior of the tribe who unfortunately would not remain quiet about her disdain for the Young God, many of her ride followed her lead in that. I was meant to be their guide on the raid they never came back from but the spirits had whispered to me and I faked illness as they commanded. Make your mother's memory proud. Run and thrive. I am certain the spirits have a plan for you, do not allow the Young God or her arse-lickers to disrupt it. One last thing, if you reach the mountains do not go through the pass. The tribes who call the valley beyond their home are uncivilised, savagely violent and they enjoy eating people.”

He shoved the pack into her hands, took her by the shoulders and turning her toward the closest edge of the camp gave her a slight push.

She looked at him, a million questions bubbling up but she asked none of them, just nodded and made for the edge of the camp. Every tiny sound as she crept through the darkness made her jump, terrified that the next thing she heard would be a shout and the camp would be after her.

But soon she was clear of the camp without the alarm being raised and a tiny sliver of hope kindled in her breast, she had a chance now.

She'd have to skirt their neighbours between here and the mountains, if she was seen she'd be killed because her tribe were hated by all. The false god's support meant they never had to worry about reprisals for the constant raiding they did.

Taking a deep breath and puffing it out as worms of anxiety ate at her gut she ran off into the darkness. Away from everything she had ever known.