CHAPTER FOUR . . . just keep going

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       IT WAS LATE AT NIGHT when Elowen was forcibly woken up by an unknown force. She thrashed as she felt her arm being dragged from its place by her side, worried for her safety. Ready to scream as she tried to wake herself up faster, her eyes wanting to remain closed.

"Darling, it's me. It's Mama." A mere whisper. But the familiar voice visibly calmed her, fragile blue eyes looking up towards the woman leaning over her. But when she went to reply, a hand wrapped delicately around the lower part of her face, covering her lips before a sound could escape them. "We need to leave, now."

Inez looked into her daughter's eyes, reflecting the quality of the man she'd loved and lost. She saw the innocence, and the fear, and proudly gleamed at the determination that lay in wait.

This was not a new thing to occur. Their home had been uprooted too many times in her twelve winters of living. Something Inez was not proud of, but she would do anything to keep her daughter safe. Even if it meant she grew to hate her.

She would not let them take away the only thing she had left in this material plane.

So as she quietly helped Elowen to her feet, she held tight onto her hand. Afraid to let go. So instead she settled for only having one free hand, their things were still sealed away, seeing as they'd never bothered to take everything out of the animal fur packs they'd arrived at the cabin with. Just the essentials.

Just like they'd practised. Over, and over, and over again.

They had to be quick. It would be any minute now that their temporary home would be sieged and ransacked. They were stalked in the woods. Like the drooling wolves, they were, waiting out their prey, eager to pounce and tear them apart.

All drüskelle are the same.

Fortunately, Elowen didn't hesitate. And like the graceful creature she was raised to be, she weaved her body and her footwork around the creakiest steps and soon reached the minimal distance it took to be within reach of her pack. Then retracing her steps to be beside her mother once again, who was now in the bedroom of the separate room.

Elowen tried to ignore the groaning in her stomach as she looked over at the empty cot on the other side of the room before she walked out. He was gone. Hopefully, somewhere safe. Anywhere that wasn't here.

"This way, we'll go out the back." Inez motioned her over to the back door. The wood was chipped, and there were small gaps where one could see out into the darkness waiting for them. But it was also the safest point of exit. This door was quieter and didn't lead to them being giant targets.

Now at a safe distance from the cabin, and trekking carefully through the thick snow they were able to be a little slower. If the witch-hunters had a pack of isenulf with them, then they'd need to conserve as much energy as they could in case they needed to run or climb. And since there was no sound or sign of a single drüskelle or their favourite camouflaged pets, Elowen decided to ask the question that burned at the back of her throat.

"Are Baghra and Alek meeting up with us? Or are we meeting them?" The little girl asked although Inez hated to admit that soon she would be little no longer. There were only three full moons to rise until she was a year older than the last.

And it was the fear of breaking her daughter's heart that she remained silent.

Which resulted in another pained question. "Mama?" That inevitability withdrew a response.

"Baghra and I decided it was safer if we went our separate ways for a bit." Inez finally answered although she wished she hadn't as she stared at the disheartened look on her daughter's face. So she decided a little white lie would not hurt to comfort this situation.
"Just until it's safer. Until the hunters lose interest."

Elowen was not a fool. And she most certainly was not a child who needed coddling. No matter how naïve Baghra believed her to be, she was not dewey-eyed. "But, drüskelle never lose interest. You and I both know that." Yes, they did know that. They had learnt that the hard way. "They never forget."

And as she said those three words, Inez pictured everything that had happened. The blood, the sadness, the anger that tasted bitter as she ran her tongue against her teeth. Even the snow; how it began to fall as the light left his eyes. Their happiness was wiped away like footprints in a heavy snowstorm. Now a fading memory like all the other remnants of her past. Everything is as fleeting as Spring. The flowers wither, the leaves brown, and they all fall. And winter comes to clean it all away. A new beginning.

The tree may not have any leaves. But the tree still stands. And that is what she would be.

"They will." She stated. Even if it was centuries before they saw them, Inez and Elowen would live long enough to welcome their friends again. Even though Elowen was otkazat'sya, there were more 'unconventional' ways to ensure that could happen.

The Ivanov women were still walking, their feet freezing in their thin, fraying boots. Snow was getting inside the small threadless holes, making their feet wet with every step.

It was dangerous being this close to the Fjerdan border. Something they were beginning to realise was very foolish indeed.

However, Elowen found she wasn't upset about being stuck treading through piles of snow, it was more about the friend she'd left behind. Who'd left her behind? Did he feel this guilty feeling deep within his chest too? Or did he not feel anything? Perhaps, a burden had been lifted from his shoulders? Maybe he'd grow to detest her, just like his mother did?

"We're never going to see them again, are we?" Her little voice asked once again, a broken tint to it. "Or at least, not for a long time." Even that tiny possibility of hope did little to alleviate her. Just added to the blackness that loomed in her skull.

Inadvertently, it did the same to her Mother. "I honestly don't know." Inez stopped for a second, making the smaller form a few steps in front of her stop as well. She looked at her child, at the girl that painfully reminded her too much of herself at that age. "Nevertheless, I'm afraid of the answer." The walking resumed until they reached a clearing. Deciding to rest under a juvenile pine tree canopying over a large shrubbery.

Baghra had been her closest and dearest friend for centuries. And Aleksander was like the son she never knew she wanted. Of course, she would miss them. No matter how much time passed. But fate had plans for them, the Saints would protect them.

One day, they would meet again.

Rustling of leaves and snapping of grounded branches broke Inez's thoughts. The two forcibly hid within the shrubbery. Luckily, whoever the culprit was, they were on the other side of the tree, so the thick snow concealed their vision past the thick trunk.

They waited, listening as the figure spoke. They were Fjerdan, more than likely a witch-hunter, speaking in their natural, venomous tongue. Elowen was able to decipher some of it as a result of remembering some of the Fjerdan language her father had tried to teach her long before she'd even said her first word. And Inez being able to listen in thanks to her fluency.

"The Witches have fled, Sir!" A male voice declared. All drüskelle were men, they'd rather entrust a sword to an idiot rather than a member of the opposite sex. No, to them, a woman belongs at home. Not on the red-stained snow, not in the wild. The forests were for monstrous witches and the beasts that hunt them. "Their tracks are already fading."

Silence was their only defence at this moment. Something they were not taking for granted.

A gruff voice, an older one, spoke back. "We'll find them. Mark my words." Just the sound of his voice sent shivers down their spines. A drüskelle was trained to be many things. Just the sounds of their voices are enough to make a Grisha want to throw themselves off of a cliff to be spared a horrendous fate. Choosing to put their destiny in the hands of the Saints, rather than the ruthless laws of Fjerda. Fair, was definitely not the word for the trials their people were subjected to. Unjust, cowardly, evil; those sounded more accurate. "Those witches will burn."

Inez could imagine the pyre they would build especially for her. And the satisfaction when they were faced with defeat, as she would not be reduced to ash. For she was not a Firebird, she would not rise from them.

Fire was not a valiant death. Not when you're bound to a construction of sticks and flammable animal oils.

Soon the hunters left, leaving Inez and Elowen in peace. Safe and cold for the night. Huddling together to generate heat.

And in time, Elowen felt tiredness overcome her once again. Finally returning to the land of slumber as she laid her head to rest on her mother's lap. Feeling comfort at how her mother's thin fingers glided through her hair gently. Soothing her to sleep.

Leaving Inez to look up at the stars watching down above them. Wondering if Baghra and Aleksander were seeing the same thing as her, or if they were already miles and miles away. Wherever they were, she hoped they were safe.

No, she knew they would be. Baghra was the most powerful and stubborn person she'd ever met, something she selfishly pushed onto her son. But if there was anyone that would make it out of this situation alive, it was Baghra Morozova.

She would never admit it. But she was definitely her father's daughter.

       NUMB, THAT'S ALL MARIANNE FELT. Lost on what to do, what to say, how to feel. Even how to breathe. It was like she was suffocating.

Alina had been taken outside to a carriage, probably being ordered around by that grump of a Grisha, Ivan. It was obvious how well Kirigan trusted him, he seemed to be the only one the raven-haired man trusted.

'Trust one man above many, and you will have undying loyalty.' That is what he'd said to her a long time ago. Something that she was surprised to not have forgotten. But looking at Ivan, was like looking directly into a mirror of the past. A repeat of history.

Marianne had walked away before she'd seen her leave the General's tent, hearing the whispers thrown about like sharp daggers. Mutterings of joy, of hope, and some even had the audacity to whisper how incapable she was. As if she wasn't a literal beacon of light to end an eternity of darkness. She'd slowly trekked back to her unit, not even noticing Mal looking at her as she wallowed. The others stared at her as she got back to work, packing her bags for the inevitability of when her unit left their station. Or, even if they were possibly the next to be sent on a death mission through the Fold.

Either way, she carried on checking their weapons. Cleaning out the guns, sharpening the knives, and making sure they had enough bullets. She was the runt of her unit, which meant she usually had the worst jobs. But that was the way it needed to be, for if they saw what she could do in a fight, they would never let her leave the First Army. And she was only there to stay for as long as her friends did, which meant doing the bare minimum and hoping they didn't kick her out.

It was bad enough when she'd had to explain how she'd managed to pin down Karine back when they were stationed at the edge of Os Alta. It was a fumbling, stuttering mess but she'd managed to dumb it down to being a cause of adrenaline. Granted she was being woken quite violently by the woman, scaring even herself when she managed it.

Eventually, she moved over to the medic tent. Making herself useful by mixing some herb remedies she once learnt from her mother. Helping the wounded First Army soldiers that barely managed to survive the failed trip to the Fold.

Mal being one of them.

He smiled lightly at her as she moved aside his now already salved leg allowing the medic to begin gently wiping it away to begin stitching. Trying to cheer her up, even though it didn't reach his eyes.

She knew how he felt. Betrayed. Like Alina had a gigantic secret that she hadn't told them about, hadn't told him about. Kept it from him as if he wasn't worthy of being told. But she also saw the pain he felt, knowing he'd probably never see her again.

That boy was like a lost puppy. Lovesick, missing his home, missing his Alina.

Unbeknownst to her, another man she knew was like that. Especially as he watched his oldest friend comfort some foot soldier, smiling with him as she'd once done with him. All men become fools when it comes to love. It was always the way.

What hurt the most for Marianne wasn't watching Mal in pain, though. It was the face he made as he saw the General's carriage drive away. He got up quickly and forcefully, ignoring the shouts from the medic, taking Marianne's hand and pulling her along with him.

Alina, sat facing forwards inside, had turned around to bang on the back window. Calling their names, begging for them to hear her. To know the truth. "I didn't know!" She shouted, pleading with the driver to stop. Alina had seen Marianne in the tent and saw her face as she looked at the light that emitted from her arm, she needed her friend to know the truth. That she never once believed she was Grisha. Mal too. But Marianne knew she didn't.

She had seen back in Keramzin when she bandaged Alina's cut hand, feeling how much power surged through her. Hoping it would die out before it was discovered.

Marianne had always known what she was. Hoped to protect her from the wolves that reminded her of the ones she had faced. The people wanted a hero. But heroes often become martyrs. Or there were too many in the world to count that would want to watch her fall. They loved that more than anything. Failure.

And in trying to protect Alina too much, she had helped quicken her downfall. Only she wouldn't just sit and take it.

Using Alina's voice to guide her, she remembered everything she had ever done during her lifetime. And why she had done all the things she did. She was to do what her mother had always done for her. Run. Run to Alina and never stop. Even when she could not breathe, have no energy or light to guide her through the darkness. She would run, and she would fight.

Because Alina needed her. Needed her to stay by her side. To hold her hand until the end, and never let go. One must always make sacrifices for the ones they love. Alina was worth every sacrifice.

And it was beginning to look like she was in need of a horse.

       BACK AT HER SHARED TENT, Marianne was furiously packing the rest of her things. She'd never grown out of the habit of not unpacking a lot when on missions but like the idiot she was, she thought she'd have spent longer here. To be with her friends.

But fate always had a way of interfering. With a little help from the Saints, who simply must hate her.

Which led her to desperately scrape to find anything and everything that was hers in the small area, just so that she could be on her merry way and catch up with the coach. Alina needed her. Or maybe it was the other way around? Marianne didn't know anymore.

Didn't know who she was anymore.

She sat herself forcefully down onto her cot - that was tough as anything so she was surprised she didn't go through the damn thing - and held her face in her hands. What do you have left of yourself, when you're just made up of a collection of lies?

Marianne, Sanya, Anastasia, Liliya; names she claimed as her own. Names given to others by their parents, when she'd just taken them. Like a hungry devourer. Just taking everything she 'needed' to survive. Sometimes even her own name felt like poison on her tongue.

Remnants of a beautiful past that was tainted by the blood and greed of those that oppressed her. The monsters that took the girl she was and forged her into a carnal beast, fuelled by revenge. Something she'd had to tear out of herself a long time ago, in fear of what she'd become.

"Alexeyev!" Not even Karine's voice cleared her mind. Which was especially worrying as she was, well, terrified of annoying the Fjerdan woman. "Alexeyev!" Again the yell didn't break her dazed state. But a soaking wet rag to the face certainly did. It stuck to her cheek for a good few seconds before she pried it off.

"Please tell me that's just water." Was all she had to say, ignoring the smug looks of the others surrounding her. Choosing to focus on the invisible glare on Karine's face.

"Best you don't know differently then." The tall woman replied. Moving to be inside the tent, letting the curtains fall so that the others could no longer receive a front-row seat. "You were supposed to be at training, where the hell have you been?" Her arms were on her hips now, it looked strange considering her stature, but it still suited her. She was confident, and Marianne was a nervous wreck. They were polar opposites.

The redhead debated between telling the truth, or just spouting one of her many award-winning lies. It seemed to be the only real talent she had.

However, after looking up at Karine, she thought against it. Deciding that for once, she couldn't keep everything bottled up or chained away. And Karine just so happened to have a look that made Marianne assume she would break one of her legs if she tried to lie. So that was also a great motivator.

"My friend, Alina. She's the Sun Summoner." Her eyes met the ground as she spoke, fighting back the floodgates of memories from across her immortal life. There were a lot. "And I need to go after her." This time she stared up to look directly into the older woman's eyes.

"You'll be marked a deserter." She said matter of factly, not trying to undermine her. Just stating what they both knew to be the truth.

But if there was anyone worth being declared a traitor for, it was Alina. That foolish, lovesick girl was always getting herself in trouble, fortunately, she had some pretty amazing friends to lend a helping hand every now and then.

Marianne sighed as she stood up again. "I don't care, they can lock me in a cell and leave me to rot; I still wouldn't regret my choice." She went back to packing. "My only one would be not making it there." As she packed she decided on her weapon of choice in case she came across anyone 'unfriendly' on her journey, she was in between her standard-issue rifle, and her trusty - older than the hills - bow. Somehow, the thing hadn't completely decided to snap in half or plant itself back into the ground miraculously.

She went with the bow.

Guns are too noisy. And difficult to reload, especially when you're in a dire situation. Bows on the other hand were effortlessly timeless, and arrows shot from them were far more graceful than any bullet. What? She didn't like change.

Unknowingly she was ignoring Karine, and how the woman was watching her. To her it was strange for a soldier to carry around a bow, those hadn't been used on a battlefield for centuries. But after knowing Marianne for two years now, it was just like her. Odd, and overlooked.

No one had ever been able to best Karine in combat. Ever. And on Marianne's first day in her regiment, she'd managed to taste the dirt she usually felt under her feet, and had left a close eye on her ever since.

There was something about her, that no one seemed willing to excavate from the depths of her own subconscious.

"We better get you a fast horse then, don't you think?" She queried, what could possibly be considered a smirk creeping onto her face. Both her words and the change in her usual neutral expressions were a surprise.

So much so that Marianne didn't quite believe her. "What?" Was asked, her eyes flicking across Karine's entire frame. Looking for something to signal she was dreaming.

No giant butterflies, no talking cats. So perhaps, maybe not a dream. Just a highly unlikely interaction.

The short-haired blonde sighed. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If you're going to get out here unnoticed, you're going to need to be fast. Your feet make you slower than a snail." She pointed to Marianne's small feet, drawing her attention down as well, to emphasise her point.

In reply, Marianne held up her left hand - the right one holding a bunch of arrows that were getting slippery in her clammy grip - and raised her forefinger. "First of all, that's rude. I'm short, okay, slowness comes with the package deal." She raised her middle finger to join the first one. "And second. Wh- why are you willing to help me?" Her voice betrayed her as she stuttered.

"I know a thing or two about running away," Karine shrugged, "running to something, or someone is important. Especially to you. And let's be honest, you hate it here. Those bitches make me homicidal." The two women broke out a laugh, just a small one. But it led to both of them finally realising something about each other.

They weren't half bad.

"You'll get in trouble too if you're caught." Marianne pointed out. Now feeling concerned for the woman that stood before her. She didn't want to see her dealt a punishment for something she didn't do.

Karine grabbed Marianne's pack, walking towards the shut curtains of the tent. Turning around to address her once again. "Trust me, I won't." The curtains opened, releasing a light breeze into the small area. "Unless you gravely make a shitshow of it all." A grin was sent her way, making Marianne unexpectedly blush.

And she was left standing there like a fool as she heard Karine's retreating footsteps. Wondering what the hell was happening in her life right now. And wondering if the Saints had anything to do with this, or if maybe they were just having a good laugh witnessing it.

Turning to pick up her bow and arrows from atop her cot, led her to be face to face with a tiny ball of brown fur. Big doe eyes looking up at her. Making her instantly pick the little creature up; not even bothering to hesitate.

"Company is always appreciated." She whispered to the mouse, him being situated in the breast pocket of her first army jacket. "But it's best no one sees you. They'll think I've gone absolutely barmy."

After she was satisfied that she had everything she needed, she put her army hat on and walked outside. Karine was far ahead - one of her strides being about ten of Marianne's - and getting close towards the Second Army tents. Because of course, the horses had to be stationed over with them. Most First Army used carriages, even the higher-ups had to endure a cramped journey together.

So after a run; that left Marianne both breathless and her legs almost paralysed, and her mouse friend a little motion sick, she came to be beside her.

Karine watched as the redhead almost fell to the floor, and instead, she leaned over to put her hands on her thighs. Breathing raggedly and pointing a finger in the air to ask her to wait for a second.

Eventually, she regained her footing, but her breathing was still heavy. Like she'd been asked to run to Novokribirsk and back.

"You seriously need to exercise more." She humoured, smiling at how out of shape the younger woman was.

It took a decent amount of time to start breathing normally, but not long after she did she started to defend herself. "I hate running. Why make your legs burn when you can just walk at a lovely calm pace?" She clutched her side with a wince as she felt a stitch start to form.

Karine just shook her head. Knowing it was useless teaching an old dog new tricks, especially when said dog didn't like doing much of anything. Exercise included.

"Get my horse!" A voice shouted, breaking the two out of their conversation. It was a grumpy one, one Marianne knew way too well. He didn't have his precious Ivan to aid him now, so he was having to make do with the other Grisha around him. Probably so he can go brood.

Because even though he'd found the very thing he'd been searching for, he still found he wasn't happy. Especially when there was a certain woman that was vexing him with just her presence.

He was closer to them than they'd liked.

Maybe because his horse was really super damn close. By which meant that, said damn horse was currently trying to eat Marianne's hair like it was hay.

She swatted away at the mammal, cursing the black steed for its hungry nature. Karine didn't even lift a finger to help, just finding it funny. But the man in black didn't find it funny - not on the surface that is - as he stormed over towards them.

"We best get you a horse quickly, or you'll be in the brig before dusk." Karine tried to direct Marianne over towards the other horses, hoping to avoid the Black General as much as possible. You can take the woman out of Fjerda, but you can't take the Fjerdan out of the woman. And the stories of Shadow Summoners were the things of nightmares for Fjerdan children. She was raised no differently.

"Stop right there." The man ordered. Finding his irritation reaching an uncontrollable amount. Here she was, again. And he wasn't too happy about how she'd looked at that foot soldier back at the Medic tent. So, safe to say he wasn't in the best of moods.

Marianne instinctively did as she was told. Not able to stop herself when she heard his voice. Apparently, nothing had changed.

"You may leave." At first, she thought he was talking about her, making her begin to turn around. Only to realise that her pack was now at her feet and Karine was walking away. Sending a sympathetic look her way. Making her realise he must have been looking at her when he spoke.

In response, she turned back to him, noticing how he stared down at her. And by that point she just wanted the ground to swallow her up.

Clearing her throat she tried to regain some kind of confidence in this situation. "How can I help you?" She said, cringing instantly at how her voice squeaked.

"You're leaving." Not a question, a statement, but it still sounded unsure on his lips. Like he wanted to know every thought and every secret that took up residence inside her mind.

Once upon a time, she would have gladly let him in. But not this time.

At this point, the reminder of her want to track down Alina fuelled her. Gave her all the confidence she needed to survive his interrogations. She held her head up high and met his eyes dead on. "Yes. Alina needs me, and whether you like it or not I'm going to find her."

He looked at her curiously. Analysed her from head to toe. "She'll be at the Little Palace. All Grisha go there." Reminding her of what Alina was now, what she'd always been. And what Marianne was not. "I'm off there myself. I'd give you directions, but I believe you remember the way." He finished, reminding her of a time she'd rather forget.

"Take me with you." She requested, not breaking eye contact, even when his horse tried to nudge her. Holding her ground.

The General thought on it. The pros and cons. Pro, Alina would feel more lenient with a trusted friend nearby. Con, Alina could become distracted. Pro, she would be nearby once again. Con, he would become distracted.

Pro, she would be with him again.

"Let's get you a horse then." He said, his mind made up. He went over to the other horses, giving his own steed a scratch on the head as he passed by him. "Deserter." He said with a smirk on his face. Enjoying every second of this.

And annoyingly, so was Marianne.

Because soon they were riding off. Putting the view of the camp at the back of their minds as they rode off toward the direction of the Palace.

The wolves of the past and the present were waiting for her there. Only this time she'd face them head-on. Because she would not fail Alina like she had done so many times before to the people she loved.

Alina Starkov was worth fighting for. And if need be, dying for.

———  APOLLO SPEAKS  ———
I actually hate the ending of this chapter, but oh well. I updated. It's better than nothing. Also, happy Shadow and Bone day! I can't wait to start watching season two, but I have uni first 😭😭😭. Anyway, hopefully, this is at least decent to read, otherwise, I'll just die.