Miaread's P.O.V.

"Like this," I insisted again, taking the pot away from Seamus. I showed him how to properly salt it before returning it.

"Oh," He replied, blushing, and repeating my actions.

I nodded, satisfied with his work. I got to continue the washing I had been doing before Seamus asked for my help. "No, wait," He said, sounding crestfallen.

"What?" I was getting a bit annoyed now. I had tried to leave 4 times. First he needed help 'holding a knife properly', and then 'help me sort the onions' oh, oh, 'Miaread help me peel the carrots', and then then 'how do you salt the pot?'. I was getting angry. I swear this man can do nothing for himself.

"Yes," I asked again, enunciating deathly.

"I need you to help me with-"

An hour later, after showing him every little detail about making chicken stuffed loaves, I finally was able to get back to scrubbing clothing on the washboard.

I didn't eat because I was overly fed up, and had lost my appetite. Fred walked over to me after dinner had been cleaned up,  to see what had happened.

"Miaread, you didn't eat."

"What an astute observation Fred."

"What happened. Are you okay?"

"I'm alright I suppose, it's just Seamus has all of a sudden become a helpless child once more." I replied, venom lacing my words.

"Has he?" Fred asked, smirking at where Seamus was talking to McCoy. I didn't have to answer that question, he clearly knew the answer.

Around midnight, I was restless. Nothing I did could put me in a place or position I could sleep in. Wind beat against the side of the costruione -Damien had insisted we call the house that, but the reason was unknown. I got up, frustrated with myself, and silently left my bedroom. I silently shut the door behind me, letting go of the handle gently. Most of the stairs made some kind of unpleasant noise that would attract unwanted attention. Thus, I decided to sit on the rail, and glide my way down. I had done this often as a child, and it was much quieter -much more enjoyable too.

Landing on the balls of my feet, I flitted to the front door, and in one fluid movement, heaved it open, then closed it again on the other side.

I began walking around, a touch upset that all of the stars were being blocked by a think layer of clouds.

I heard a crunch, then what sounded like something falling onto soft dirt, and then laughter. Hushing soon followed suit.

"Who's there?" I called, keeping my voice down, but sliding my civer out from under my sleeve into my hand.

"It's just us Mya calm." McCoys voice sang, drifting over the late autumn winds. I went over to it, and found Fred and Talbott with him. "Why are you awake?" He asked.

"I could be phrasing the same question," I retorted, confused as to why Fred was laying on the ground.

"Don't just stand there, help me up." He insisted, his voice sounding fragile for an indistinct reason. I reached my hand to him, slipping the civer back into its small, thin sheath as I went. Fred grasped it firmly, and allowed me to pull him up. Dirt was covering his hair, and his face, but the light in his eyes wasn't affected by it or the darkness surrounding us.

"What are you doing out here? It's the middle of the night."

"Seeing who can get to the top of the tree fastest but Fred fell off about midway up." they explained. I looked at Fred, who was gingerly feeling the back of his head.

"Are you alright?" I asked, concern obvious in my tone. "What kind of idiots do you have to be to do such a thing at 2 in the morning?"

"No idea, ask some idiots. Your turn McCoy." Talbott said, picking a bit of wood out of his palm. McCoy chuckled, and rubbed his hands together. He jumped, lacing his fingers around a branch about 7 feet up. He notched his foot in place, and started climbing.

I sighed, shook my head, and scoffed at him. About a minute later, a pinecone hit Fred straight in the head.

"HEY!" Fred half-shouted up to McCoy, who was laughing. He came back down to us, and was met by a shove from Fred.

"You're going to give me brain damage."

"Mate it's just a pinecone." McCoy turned to me. I was giggling, and still shaking my head.

"Honestly," I muttered.

"Your turn Mya." He insisted.

"What? No. I- I didn't agree to this."

"You're the one who's out here. Congratulations, your turn to race up the tree." Talbott and Fred were backing him up eagerly.

"No,"

"Oh come on," He sighed in exasperation. McCoy grabbed my hand, and put his other arm around my shoulders. He nodded up to the top of the tree. "It's honestly not as high as you think it is."

"I think you're high."

"You'd be correct. But not as high as you're gonna be when you get to the top."

You take me by the hand. . . I question who I am. . .

"I do enjoy hitting people with pinecones." I admitted, squeezing McCoy's hand before letting go, and holding onto a low branch.

Up, and up, and up I went. Climbing slowly at first, and then flying past limbs of the pine tree. When I reached the top, there wasn't a view worth climbing for. Which was incredibly disappointing, seeing as back in Orantulle, if you climbed a good tree you could get to the castle roof. From there you had access to it's turrets, and could see miles of hills and village surrounding my beautiful home.

Well, past home.

What was I doing? I wasn't physically strong. I wasn't allowed to gain muscle as an adolescent. Heights terrified me, and the only reason I could survive on the castle roofs was because Seth was always right beside me when I did it. 

I took a deep breath, and continued up again. When I got as far as I was comfortable, I looked up through the leaves into the sky. The birch leaves cast shadows around the floor, but there were still no stars in the sky.

I reached up to try and pretend to grab the moon, but the tree shook violently when I moved, and I grasped the trunk as tight as my fingers would let me. Wind whipped around me, pulling me into a cocoon of frigid temperatures. A gasp fell through my tight-pulled lips, and my eyes started to sting.

I started going down, as quick as possible, the swaying of the tree messing with my stomach. I landed on the dirt again, my hands sticky with sap. I almost fell to my knees in relief for being back on solid ground again. Again, I'm not all that fond of heights. McCoy took my hand again, sending a shiver up my spine and making me realize how cold I was.

"Well done, very quick indeed but Talbott still won." He informed me, grinning. "Your hands are all sticky."

"Are you not?" I asked, a bit surprised our hands weren't sticking together, glued by the milky brown half-liquid.

"Nope. When I was a lad I would climb trees all the time. I know how to avoid squishing the stuff."

"Well I don't," Fred cut in, showing me the glistening of his hands in the moonlight. "I grew up in a desert. In the desert, there was a girl named Eloise. She was incredible. Just so beautiful, funny, amazing, perfect in every way. We would spend our days together but I hardly remember anything we did, as I would simply gaze into her eyes the entire time. Her eyes were beautiful, and when I looked into them I felt as if I was looking into a looking glass, showing me my future. I haven't spoken to her in 10 years now, but I still think of her sometimes. I don't think I'll ever meet a girl like her.

"Sounds like you had quite the woman back home." Talbott said smirking, He nudged him in the side. "How come I've never heard of her before?"

"Because I don't tell people. Everything burned, remember? I don't even know if she made it out. We used to talk about running away together, she and I. We wanted to go to Emersilan."

The name caught my attention, and my fingers twitched violently.

"That's actually really sad mate." McCoy replied, patting Fred on the back with his free hand. Fred nodded.

"Any of you have women back home? Or, Miaread, I suppose you have a guy?"

"Arranged marriage spouse, that I then literally ran away from." I said nonchalantly, "But not really. Never actually met him."

"No one ever piqued my interest. But I did see the princess of Orantulle once, she was lovely. All done up in a big grey gown; quite beautiful."

My stomach clenched, as I remembered that outfit. I had worn it to Lesm's Christmas ball, and met a noble there who looked suspiciously like McCoy. But I have no idea what his name was.

A choked scream ran past me from the bushes, and I turned to find a squirrel launching itself at my face. I took a step away, and McCoy caught it, throwing it into the forest.

Teach me how to fight, I'll show you how to win. . .

"Sorry about that." I said to Talbott, who'd been cut off mid sentence by the squirrel.

"Don't apologize for things you can't control." Fred insisted, smiling.

"As you were saying Talbott?"

"Yeah, I had a girl; but she left me for the village muscle man." I sucked my teeth in sympathy.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah it wasn't my happiest moment but screw her, never needed her."

We did eventually head to sleep again, but it took us a good minute or two. I don't regret the lack of sleep that night; it was a good night. I've never had a group of friends before that could speak English. It was quite nice.

Seamus came up to me at breakfast the next day and asked me where I had gone last night. I told him I simply went on a walk with some of the other Hunters, and it seems to satisfy him enough to leave me alone. But all through the day he was looking at me very oddly, and shooting annoyed glances at the others.

Damien asked me to start making ball-worthy outfits for all of us. Which was incredibly strange and semi-concerning, but I didn't question it in hopes of no questions asked in return.

I walked into the storage closet to fetch some black fabric when I -quite literally- ran into Tyrone and Matriin.

"Oh, fyrirgefðu, (Pardon me in Icelandic) if you'll just let me through." I said politely.

"What language was that Marion?" Tyrone asked, folding his arms.

"The name's Miaread, and it was Icelandic. If you'll please excuse me-"

"Isn't that Orantulles language?" Matriin followed up, also folding his arms.

"Yes it is, I know many languages, what's the problem?"

"Icelandic is dying out everywhere, it's only taught in Orantulle now."

"And your point is?" I countered.

"Why do you know it?" Tyrone asked.

"My mother was from Orantulle."

"Your mother 'ey?" Matriin confirmed, taking a step forward.

"Yes," I agreed, not moving.

"Always have an excuse don't you?"

"I don't follow."

"It's always something. Normally your mother I see,"

"What?"

"Who are you Miaread?"

"What's your actual name?" Tyrone amplified.

"Miaread," I reiterated.

"No it isn't. Your accent's a little different every day. You're not from Lesm are you?" I just looked at them in the most dis-believing, yet laxed face I could muster. If I freaked out I'd break my cover -if I hadn't already.

They kept looking at me, not moving. My civer sheaths were tied to my arms, and I pulled the thin pointy metal cylinders, and held them backhanded. 

"Back up away from me," I hissed, grinding my teeth across each other.

"Whoa there, no need to get violent," Matriin insisted, taking another step forward. "Why are you getting so defensive?"

"Because you're advancing on me. It's called natural instinct, and self-preservation. Something you obviously don't have."

Tyrone nudged Matriin, and the two of them left together.

That night as we sat around the fire, I weaved a needle through the silky fabric that would be the over skit for my dress. I had worked today and finished Seamus' overcoat -I did him first to get it over with as fast as possible.

I was hemming the big circle with a stem stitch, McCoy sat on the rock next to me.

"You wanted me?"

"Yeah, take your measurements," I replied offhandedly, focusing on the needle in my hand, and pushing the measuring stick towards him with my foot. "You were born noble, right? So you know what measurements to take?"

"That's correct," He agreed, finding the end of the tape, and starting to hold it up to his body. After watching him for about 3 minutes I was confused.

"Stop, Ill do it." I insisted, setting my overskirt on the ground carefully, and yanking the measuring tape out of his hands. "You're not doing it properly. The measurements will be wrong and the jacket will turn out all wonky."

"I can do it fine i-"

"It's really no big deal. Spread out your arms." He did so.

"Thanks Mya."

"It's really no problem."

-Eliza