They left modesty behind in the mud. Women hitched up skirts to tie around their midriff. Loose tunics stuck to bodies. On the valley slopes workers left their shoes.

All who could took part and toiled under the sun. If the thick, white slurry mixed with the local water, then the valley would be polluted for years, not a season.

The work proved gruelling, even for the Southerners. Lanna had never been so glad of her sturdy limbs and hard muscles. A tough body bred through generations of selection. She might be imperfect, but she remained strong.

Mud pulled at limbs, sapping strength and will with contact. Bodies of cattle and beloved family pets were lifted clear to make a sad pile on the valley side, the carcasses thrown onto a bonfire by grim men. But the task had to be done: festering corpses could sully drinking water.

Lanna hunched her shoulders as her nostrils caught the scent of burning flesh. Her mouth ran. Would they miss a flank? A few ribs? Snarling, she plunged her arms into the slurry. The thick white paste blended to grey. Faster – they needed to be faster.

'Fuck!' Beside her, Mika fell to her knees for the fifth time in half an hour. The girl glared at Lanna.

'Don't you dare!' she threatened, pointing a grey, dripping finger at Lanna. 'Do not tell me to rest.'

Lanna smirked and said nothing. She was five barrels of muck ahead of Mika. Workers made numerous friendly wagers to keep momentum, but no one would bet against her father. Alric's skin bore a sheen of sweat; he had long ago abandoned his tunic. The swirling tattoos of their clan wove over his shoulder blades, back and biceps – the marks of a gifted provider of food for family and kin. Lanna watched him straighten, a filled barrel under each arm, then he walked through the sucking mud as if he waded through a shallow stream.

His harsh words to her were forgiven if not forgotten. She returned to her task, but the mud felt cold, even for her, and stole the heat from her blood. Her body ran hotter to compensate, and sweat dripped from her nose and ran down the hollow of her back.

Another splash to her side and Lanna rolled her eyes. She reached out and pulled Mika to her feet, ignoring protests as she frowned down at her friend's chilled hand.

'You aren't used to the cold. My body is. Eat something and come back.'

Mika stuck out her tongue then sighed. 'You're right. I should be more mindful of my pride.' She pouted at Lanna then pulled her slight frame from the thick slurry. 'I'll bring you something,' she promised then waddled away, the mud slurping and slapping under her feet.

Lanna filled her barrel then lifted it onto her shoulder with a grunt. Her arms and shoulders already bore bruises from previous loads.

Shuffling to the edge of the valley, Lanna glanced at the surrounding landscape. They were about a quarter done. A miraculous achievement having only been at the task four hours.

Imperials weren't soft. They were as stubborn as the kelen that represented their nation: a bird of burden, fast, stout and still half-wild even after generations of domestication.

Finally, she reached the cart on the rutted old highway above the valley. The ox hitched to it huffed at her as she pushed her barrel onto the rough planks above the wheels. Mud covered the poor beast from head to hoof.

The Headman estimated half of the herd had been lost, a savage blow to the community though they hoped to find more alive in the coming days. The creatures were smart and had probably scattered during the earthshake. They would return when hungry.

The cart would take its load to the border, returning the slurry to where it had come from, far from people. A tired and listless man behind the reins thanked Lanna and flicked his crop. The wheels squeaked as the cart moved off, piled high with barrels, bowls and jars of white mud. Another cart would return within an hour. They would need to have the next load ready to transport.

Lanna sighed and arched her back, her spine popping. She winced up at the blue sky.

'Still better than gutting fish every day,' she muttered and glanced down at the village on the slopes below her.

Some houses sat at a slight angle, but repairs would have to wait. The land took priority. Several families would share the sound buildings, while the meeting hut round the back of the Headman's dwelling housed the injured. A runner had already been sent to the next village to bring news and, if possible, aid. No one knew if the earthshake had been isolated or large enough to affect other places. Other villages might be worse off, though few would suffer a flood from the Blacklands.

'Ah, Lanna, there you are.' The Headman strolled up to her. He stood at her height, but she still felt smaller than him. Eyes that seemed to miss nothing fixed on her face. 'You'll take a break. I want your family working in shifts. I won't have any of you collapsing out there.'

A sharp reply burnt on her tongue. Was he doing this because of her illness?

'You need to eat, but don't take too long – I want you back out there to relieve your brother.' His gaze narrowed as he looked her over. 'Everyone takes a break, and right now it's your turn.'

'When is it your turn?' she replied, not bothering to hide the insolence in her tone.

To her surprise, he laughed and looked so like his son that for a moment she felt her chest tighten.

'Now you sound like my wife.' He offered her an improper wink. 'I'm Headman – I'll rest when the task is done.' He turned and made to walk away then he paused and glanced over his shoulder. 'I've been rather puzzled over my son's reluctance to take a bride.' He gave a very Hemil-like smirk. 'I think I now understand.' He walked away with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

She stood there a moment longer until the blush had faded from her mud-encrusted cheeks.

With no slurry pulling at her limbs, she found her steps light as she headed to her hut. None of her family had been home since the shake, though they had seen their hut remained standing.

Yes, it stood, but half the roof sagged, fallen on one side, right over where Lanna would sleep.

'Shit,' she growled and heaved a sigh, her shoulders dropping.

'It's not so bad,' Hemil said behind her. 'Think of the cool breeze you'll get at night.' He gave a tired snigger and stumbled up to her. She could hear his feet dragging and scuffing on the ground before she moved to face him.

'My father made you take a breather too?'

She nodded, glancing over him as he walked to her side. His limbs dragged as he walked. He had tried to clean his face but pale skin showed through the remaining grime on his cheeks and deep shadows rimmed his eyes. A memory clicked into place. She had seen this before.

'Hemil.' She spoke with care, so he couldn't mishear. 'I... I... Well, this is going to sound rather... Actually, I don't care. Take off your leggings.'

He blinked and then frowned. 'I will do no such thing.'

Her temper snapped. 'We were in an earthshake as the sun rose. Listen to me, if this wasn't important do you think I would ask? Do you think me so shallow that I would have anything like that on my—'

'Alright!' He held up his hands, flakes of mud showering the ground. 'I know, I'm not that lucky.' His tired fingers fumbled with his belt.

Her temper shrank, sympathy quenching the flames. She reached out and took his hand. He jumped in her grip and glared at her.

'What?'

Lanna didn't answer. Kicking aside the splintered door of her home she guided him into the dust-filled chaos of the hut.

'Let me.' She fixed her fingers on his belt and his eyes widened.

'Lanna, I...'

'Hush. I know you don't feel good, but if you ignore this much longer, you'll pass out.'

The belt came free and she smiled at him. 'You were working where the water still pools on the ground?'

He nodded as she pulled the cotton down his legs.

'I really don't see what— Emperor's balls, what are those things?'

She caught his hands before he could pull the leeches from his skin. He pulled at her grip, bracing his feet apart to help him gain leverage, but she tightened her grip, fingers digging into his wrists.

'Hemil, stop it. Listen to me.'

'Get them off!'

The idiot would hurt himself if she let go. With a swift movement she stood and pinned his hands to the wall of the hut. The wood shuddered and creaked under him as he struggled and wild eyes greeted her own. Her heart pounded. Would he listen? He could bleed to death if he didn't.

'Stop! You can't pull them off. You'll keep bleeding, and if you survive the wounds will fester.' She felt him strain against her hands.

'Please,' she begged him. 'I don't want to hurt you.'

'Let me go.'

'Only if you promise.'

'Let me go, Lanna, or Emperor forgive me, I will make you.'

She backed off as the fear in his eyes melted and his jaw clenched. He ran a hand through his hair and then gingerly stepped from the leggings that still hung around his ankles like a fetter.

Twelve engorged leeches clung to his legs, each the size of her middle finger. Their swollen bodies glimmered with slime. One on his inner thigh shifted as it fed and bile rose in her throat – she hated the cursed creatures.

'Odd,' Hemil muttered. 'I don't feel them at all.'

He lifted a leg to kick away the material from his feet and Lanna's eyes widened – he had no undergarments on. Sweet ancestors! Her mind stuttered to a halt and her face, neck and ears felt as if they'd caught fire. She whirled around and faced the destroyed door. 'Sorry.' Her whisper sounded strained.

'Me too. You were trying to help, I know. Though you could have told me—'

'I thought you might panic,' she said to the door, interrupting him.

'Well, you were right about that part.'

She heard him move and the murmur of cloth as he hopefully made himself decent.

Hemil took a steadying breath. 'So if I can't pull them off, how do I get rid of them?'

'I know how to lift them off so they won't tear your skin or vomit dirty blood back into you.' Swallowing, she rubbed at her neck. 'Or we could wait till they drop off.'

'No.'

'I agree. Waiting will leave you weaker.'

'These things are from the Blacklands?'

'Leeches,' she sighed at the door.

'Leeches,' he repeated the word. 'Never seen them before.'

'Neither had I until we left the clans. We talked to an Observist monk before we left. He warned us about the leeches and showed us what to do when we got bitten.'

There was no reply, but she felt a tug on a lock of her hair. When she turned, she saw his tired but smiling face. His soft expression warmed her insides.

'I'm covered. If you ever tell my mother I wasn't wearing underclothes, we will never speak again.'

Lanna laughed and risked a glance down. Hemil's cotton slacks now shielded his shaft from her eyes. It would be funny were it not for the creatures on his legs.

'Once these are gone you'll need to see the chemist. You'll bleed and need bandaging.'

'Wonderful. I'll look just like an Imperial guard, bandaged up for my noble kelen.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' Lanna muttered and knelt, the words meaningless to her. 'I need to get my nail under the mouth and slide it sideways.'

'You can tell which end the mouth is?'

'I spent months picking these things off my family. At least you didn't get one on your groin like Durrick did.'

Lanna kept talking as she slid her thumbnail under the slimy sucker of the leach on his knee until she felt the rasp of its hard teeth. She pushed and blood trickled down her thumb.

'We couldn't avoid crossing the rivers. Checking for leeches became the same as brushing our hair.'

Hemil remained silent as she removed the creatures one by one, pausing only to splatter them flat when they hit the ground, too bloated to even wriggle.

'I still can't feel anything,' he whispered when she squashed the last one to a crimson pulp.

Lanna sighed and sat back on her heels. Hemil's legs oozed streams of blood, the small bite wounds bleeding freely.

'You're a mess.'

He glanced down.

'I guess I am. Is it wrong I find this amusing?'

'And this is where I tell you that blood loss can do strange things to you.' She stood and grabbed the first reasonably clean garment she could find – one of her tunics – tearing it into rudimentary bandages. Hemil gave a dreamy sigh.

'You have no idea how attractive you are.'

Her head snapped up and she glared at him.

'You're moons addled,' she muttered then knelt to bind his legs.

'Maybe,' he groaned.

Lanna grunted and tightened the bandages, making him gasp. A hand fell on the crown of her head. She thought perhaps she'd hurt him, but the heavy glance she received sent a shudder down her spine.

'Lanna, I have to tell you something.' He moved forward and nearly fell over, knees buckling. She swore and caught him, holding him against her.

'That's it! Chemist – now.'

She half walked, half carried him from the hut, an arm around his back to keep him pinned to her flank.

'Let me finish,' Hemil muttered as she drag-walked him up the path and onto the road. Lanna darted a glance around the buildings. No one near – they would all be in the mud or tending to the wounded.

'Talk to me later.'

'I want to tell you now.'

'I'm not listening.'

He gave a sound of pure exasperation then she found hands on her cheeks and her face turned towards him in a sharp jerk. Lips brushed hers. Dried mud powdered on her face at the pressure and soft flesh moved over her mouth with tender caresses. She moved her head back before he finished, her eyes studying the grey smears on his cheeks and his quick breathing.

'Now you have to listen,' he hissed and his fingers reached forward to sweep mud-stiff hair behind her ear. 'When the ground shook my first thought was of you and how I'd not told you that I love you yet.'

What could she say? Lanna looked over his dark eyes and features set with determination and made a snap decision.

'I choose you. With you I have decided to bear a child. Together we will make our clan stronger and ensure those that follow will be able to face the future with courage.'

He wouldn't understand the Southern words, but that didn't matter. His smile made her heart leap.

He accepted her.