Britta shook Diana awake. It was early morning, and the sky was grey with the slightest hint of the coming dawn. Something had awoken them. Britta could still see the swirl of colours inside her head; a dream. Each time it left Britta with the feeling that something was missing from their lives. That they were not who they were meant to be, and they had to do something about it.

She could never remember exactly what happened, but it terrified her sister more than her although her sleep was always blissfully undisturbed. It was probably the feeling of longing which shot through Britta. The urge to disrupt their quiet lives and do something dramatic. It was like a wind, which swept through her, scouring out the emotions of fear which usually clouded her being, and kept her in line.

Diana was holding her tightly as if worried that Britta would slip away as she so often wanted to do. But slowly, their hold on each other loosened as they breathed easier. Calmness began to descend on her, put there by her sister, who had her eyes shut tight. Their eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtains. Though the Abbey was still cold at this time of the year, and wind crept through edges of the doors and windows, Britta felt safer there, awake, than she did when she slept.

As the morning wore on, people started wakening. The steady breathing of the girls turned irregular and uneven as eyes began to open.

Beside them, a tousled brown head poked above the covers. The girl, Bella, sat up.

"Awake at last." Britta said, trying to sound casual. Her voice was shaky and quiet, but steady enough to seem normal.

She had learned long ago that it was easier to pretend to be fine, even if she could never fool Diana.

"Says the girl who looks like she's been pulled through a bramble patch backwards." Bella shot back. She was not a morning person, and the cold only made her more irritable.

Britta sighed and touched a hand to her hair. She had let it out of its braid, leaving it curlier than it usually was.

Bella smiled slightly, and said, "No, I'm not exaggerating."

Beside her, Diana looked resentful. "Come on, Britta." She said. "We need to get dressed and go make breakfast for everyone."

Stop. Britta willed her twin. This time, her lips didn't move, and it was mind-to-mind that she spoke.

Diana's eyes found hers, and she said, she shouldn't say things like that. You look fine.

I'm past caring how I look. Britta pointed out.

Bella sighed, "Can you to please stop doing that in front of me. I hate not hearing what you're saying."

Though both girls shrugged, they knew what Bella was referring to. She meant The Voice. It was as natural as breathing for them, but Bella had known them for almost four years, and she could tell when they were communicating with more than just meaningful looks.

"Sorry." Said Diana. "But we do need to get ready."

The scuffling sound of the coarse material which made their nightgowns against the worn sheets overtook the usual morning birdsong, growing louder as more and more people awoke. On Bella's other side, Fee sat up, opening a full-lipped mouth in a yawn.

"What are we talking about?" She asked.

"We have to get up and start working." Said Bella ruefully.

"I am not looking forward to today." Fee groaned, pulling at her blond hair.

Britta nodded with a small smile. "Don't worry, you're working in the west wing today, at least the Dedicates are nice."

The Dedicates were men and women who practiced cooking and craftwork, learning their craft and then leaving to find work over the empire. Work was good for someone who knew skills as the Dedicates did and many of their apprentices left once qualified to work elsewhere. Some stayed, serving the Abbey and sometimes taking an orphan as an apprentice. They were not allowed to stay past their sixteenth year and for the twins the day was fast approaching.

Slowly they dragged themselves out of bed, seeking to avoid the harsh yelling that would soon come if they slept in. Everyone struggled into worn old clothes and made the beds. Diana brushed out her sisters' hair, and pulled her unruly curls into their tight braid, coiling it out of the way at the base of her neck.

By the time Mistress Core trundled in, her petticoats rustling, everyone was dressed and most beds were made. She couldn't find anything to tell them off about, much to her disappointment, it seemed. Britta sighed in relief. Although Mistress Core was not always involved with the orphans at the Abbey, she was the one everyone feared the most.

Britta and Diana hurried to Mistress Layla's kitchen. She had just dragged a large pot onto the coal range. Her movements were crisp but there were shadows under her eyes from her late night.

"We need water." She said, by way of a greeting.

"I'll get it." Said Britta at once; she loved the cool morning air and time alone. Diana knelt down to start the fire.

She followed the path to the well, which was set away from the building. Grass brushed against her bare feet, spreading dew over her ankles. She had to stand on tip-toe to reach the handle. The cracked wood dug into her hands as she strained to wind the bucket up. The water-swollen wood, held together with black rings of iron, only leaked very slightly as she hauled it back towards the Abbey.

Mistress Layla added water to the oats and a scant amount of goats' milk. It would be later in the year when they could have more. Despite Mistress Layla's skill in the kitchen, there was little she could do the porridge to make it taste better. Mistress Core, and the other Masters and Mistresses would have porridge sweetened with honey, something Britta was endlessly jealous of. She helped carry their pot of porridge into the food court, where it was served up by the girls who weren't serving the guests.

After breakfast, Britta and Diana trailed along the hallway into their kitchen, each holding a pile of dishes. Mistress Layla had already left to eat her own breakfast. Britta sighed and resisted the urge to crash them onto the bench; the glazed pottery would probably crack, and she couldn't let others see her temper beyond her meek façade. Diana used the rest of the water from that morning and went to fetch some more.

I can't wait until the well is fixed. Diana said. Britta could feel the ghost of Diana's hard work flitting over her own muscles.

There will be some Dedicates willing to help. She said, gingerly pushing wood into the fire.

They added pine-wood to the fire. It was kept underneath a tumbledown shelter, away from the wind which always came along with the rain. It crackled cheerfully, making the flames leap up. Britta shut the door so the sparks which exploded out couldn't reach her. Diana came back, putting the rest of the water over the range to boil.

Fee came in and dumped firewood in the wood basket and nodded at the twins and she hurried back out. Britta raised an eyebrow at her.

"What's the rush today? She asked.

Fee nodded to the door. "There's a new girl today, I'm helping her settle in. She looks like she might be a serving girl when she gets older."

"Me and Britta-" Diana paused and then corrected herself "Britta and I will help when we've done this and the washing." She said, rolling up her sleeves and lifting up the wash basin.

Fee nodded gratefully and shut the door behind her. As the water heated up, Britta's fingers trailed around the top of the range, tracing out a picture of a river, its current parting around a woman, the impression of her face etched faintly in the dust. It was an image which had haunted her for most of her life, but she couldn't put a name to the person in it.

"Don't Britta." Said Diana quietly. She wasn't looking, but she could feel the wind begin to rise in Britta again.

Britta sighed and swiped her hand over the dust, sweeping it onto the uneven floor. When she next spoke it was inside Diana's head.

There must be something. She said, feeling Dianas mind close up.

"Stop it." She said aloud, frowning.

"What now?" asked Britta aloud, crossing her arms to stop herself from re-drawing the image. Sometimes she felt she didn't know Diana well at all.

Diana shrugged, "The Voice gives me a headache today." She said softly.

"Is it all those reports you've been reading?" Britta asked, fluttering her long lashes innocently, her words full of the kind of mischief she only let her close friends see.

Diana elbowed her. "Are you going to help or not?" she asked picking up the scrubbing brush and plunging a plate into the heating water.

Britta flicked a tea towel at her and began drying dishes as fast as Diana scrubbed.

"Some days, it's like I'm tired or something. Haven't you felt it? Just recently." She said, her voice rising over the clanging of the plates and the rasping sound of the stiff scrubbing brush.

Britta sighed, "Maybe we're just out of practice or something. But I did feel it. Do you know that feeling when you're running and your legs just get more and more tired until you can't take another step, yet afterwards, you can't remember why you were so slow? I've felt like that lately when you've spoken to me with The Voice."

"I know what you mean. I guess." Said Diana thoughtfully. "But we can do without it."

"Because I'd survive here without you to stop me from annoying Mistress Core." Said Britta standing on tip toe to reach the higher shelves.

Diana smiled and put out the last plate for Britta to dry; she knew her sister would never really say anything to annoy Mistress Core. Then, Diana hauled the wash basin outside, to empty it and then put it back in its place in the cupboard. Britta hoisted the bucket up on her shoulder and pushed open the door.

With the dishes done, they moved onto the washing. There was always more to do in spring because everything was getting cleaned and aired out. They had to work together to carry up the large linen bag, stuffed with clothing and bedclothes; their next task. Britta ran back to collect the washboard and the tub, while Diana hoisted out buckets of water to fill it up with. They didn't usually bother heating the water as it had to be emptied several times over the process, and the soap was made by the Dedicates own hands to purge away infection.

Britta lifted up some of the guest's petticoats, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "I'm sure they wear all these things just so we have to wash them." She groaned, trying to scrub the dirt from the netted material.

They moved swiftly through the piles of dirty clothing and bed sheets, falling into a comfortable silence.

When the tedious job of hanging them up was complete, they put away the supplies and hurried to join Fee. She was busy scraping off the mold that built up on the window sills in the bathrooms. It was a simple yet time-consuming job which had to be done every year. They usually used scrubbing brushes, dipping them in a liquid which one of the medical Dedicates had made, but Fee had managed to get hold of some scrap metal from the blacksmith, which made the job easier. Once the mold had been scraped off, someone would come after them to paint them again.

After the morning jobs were done, Britta, Diana, Fee, and Bella ran straight to the kitchens and waited in line to grab a meal. Britta winced as she looked at the bread, curled up and burned at the edges.

"Which kitchen is this from?" She asked Diana.

"I dunno, but considering the stuff they had to work with it's not surprising."

"They sure did dilute the vegetables."

"Quit complaining I'm sure it's edible."

Britta shrugged. "Of course it is." She muttered, falling back into silence.

With their lunch eaten swiftly, everyone headed for their usual spots, hoping to get a few moments to rest sore arms and have some free time. The twins headed to an old oak tree, where they joined Fee and Bella. Britta swung herself up, and climbed swiftly past Bella and then Fee. Diana watched her go higher and shivered, though her sister was soon settled in a section near the top of the tree. She then curled up in the roots with a few pages of parchment. Bella reached down and snatched them off her.

"Hey!" shouted Diana.

Bella grinned. "Reports Diana, really?"

"I want to get better at reading." Said Diana grabbing at them. Above her, in the topmost branches of the tree, Britta grinned.

When are you gonna need to read? She asked.

"Shut up." Said Diana aloud.

Britta laughed.

The banter continued, though at some point, Diana began trying to read the reports again.

Britta felt Diana's emotions settle as she became more involved, though it was pricked with frustration when she encountered a word she didn't know.

"We're working in the gardens now." Diana stated later, "and then we need to start cooking dinner."

"Oh great." Said Bella.

"It's okay, Bella, we won't let you near the food unless it's to serve it." Said Britta, referring cheekily to the time when her friend had tried to help in the kitchen.

"I'll get you!" Bella made to climb up the tree but Britta just edged higher, laughing.

"Maybe we'll have to go gathering." She said, wistfully, a few minutes later.

"You two had better have done the washing well – you know how Mistress Core gets." Said Fee as she headed off to the washing line.

Britta walked with her until she had to turn and go to the gardens. Diana was working in the orchid. To Britta it looked like more weeds had sprung up overnight. There were trailing tendrils of plants climbing over the wooden border of the garden, and the whole place was a mesh of misty green, with hardly a patch of dark soil to be seen amongst it. The gardens were out of view of the road into the Abbey, but Britta could hear both footsteps and hoof-steps entering and exiting as she worked.

She shivered when she heard the distinctive clattering of a certain wagon. She knew the sound came from different weapons clashing together, having watched it fearfully since she was young. It was the Strange Man's wagon – a man with no name, and no purpose, except to take orphans away every month. Nobody knew where they went to, but it was Britta's biggest fear to be one of those who were taken away. Usually, he took strong young boys, but there were still times when he took the girls; nobody ever told him to stop. The clattering of the wagon passed, but she knew he would be coming the following day.

Eventually, the Abbey clocked chimed three times, and Britta stood up and begun hurrying back to the kitchens. Mistress Layla waved her off.

"Give me another quarter-hour." She said. "We're only cooking for the orphans tonight."

To the oak tree. Britta told her sister, who was probably only just on her way back from the west wing, where she was helping make beds.

She scrambled up to her spot, finding comfort in the rough bark and the smell of new growth. In spring, everything was alive. The oak trees leaves had already begun to furl out, but she was never able to catch them in action. Before long, Diana flumped down on the tree stump and sighed.

Britta hooked her knee into the tree branch more securely. She could hear voices from below; the others were probably still working or nearly finished. She brought out the collection of thick papers and a stunted stick of charcoal and flipped through them. Together, they made up her collection of drawings. They were far from perfect, and the rough paper made it hard for her to draw. Regardless, she added a few lines and patches of shading on different pieces. She sighed when she came to the last picture. One of a woman, auburn-haired, golden-skinned and fine featured. Although the drawing was only done in thick, black lines Britta could envision these colours perfectly.

The cold wind blew to life inside her again. She opened up her hand and shut her eyes tight. A small flame briefly lit her hand and she shivered slightly. It scared her that it wasn't normal, and it threw her into turmoil as the light grew brighter. She watched it, hypnotised.

Britta, stop it, they'll know. Said Diana from below. Her brown eyes reflecting the light.

You know them, if there's a logical explanation they'll take it. Said Britta.

Yes but...

I know, it's not safe.

Witch burning. Blurted Diana.

Really?

We have 'defining characteristics.'

Yes, and I would dearly love to boil Mistress Core, just like a witch. Unfortunately, I can't find a pot big enough.

Below her, Diana rolled her eyes, Britta could feel the annoyance at her pretending not to be serious. She shrugged to herself and rubbed her hand down her skirt. The flame had guttered out anyway and left no trace that it had ever been in place, but she felt as if her actions were marked on her forehead with something which glowed just as brightly.

"Come on, it's time to go cook dinner anyway." Said Diana.

Britta heard the nest of leaves she was surrounded by rustle as she began climbing swiftly down.

"What do you think we'll have to work with?" Diana continued.

"Carrot?" suggested Britta hopefully.

"As if. It's only early spring."

Britta shrugged, "you really don't make imagining things easy." She sighed.

The walked across the grounds, close together. Britta pushed her way into the kitchen, a few inches ahead of Diana.

"There you are." Said Mistress Layla. "We have some things ready." She nodded at the shelves nearby.

There were dried peas and kernels of corn from the stores, some potatoes, beginning to sprout, and wheat, not yet ground into flour.

At the beginning of spring, food was scarcer than it was in winter, and the amount they had there was not likely to feed the amount they were cooking for.

"Should we go foraging?" Britta asked, crossing her fingers.

"Check the fish traps and look for watercress and wild silverbeet." Said Mistress Layla, beginning to pound the flour.

Britta's quick mind already saw ways to cook food and things to add. Even this early in the season they would be able to find watercress and a few leaves of silverbeet. Herbs would also add more flavour. The gardens would not produce much until the gardeners began planting.

"Do you think that there will be any fish in the traps?" she asked.

"I checked them yesterday and there was nothing." Diana broke in doubtfully.

"Maybe the rain had something to do with it." Suggested Britta.

"The boy's haven't gone hunting, but we'll probably get meat tomorrow. We can do without if we need to." Said Mistress Layla.

"It could be worse." Said a voice from the door. Britta turned to see a young girl standing in the doorway, clutching a message tightly in her hands.

"Cece." Britta said, smiling warmly.

Cece grinned. "It's cold in the gardens." She said. "I saw a caterpillar."

"Did you feed it to the chickens?" asked Diana.

Cece shook her head. "It will turn into a butterfly." She said.

Diana sighed. "And in doing so will eat away at our cabbages and lettuces until we can't use them." She said, half annoyed.

The girl shrugged, "Don't you think they're cute though?"

Britta rolled her eyes, "Not if you eat one when it's in your salad."

Cece frowned, and then brightened again, her temperament improving at once. "Message from Dedicate Lynch." She said, giving it to Mistress Layla.

The woman carefully unfolded it, pressing the parts where Cece had scrunched it tightly. She read it, the worry lines of her forehead disappearing up into her hair.

Then, she turned to Cece and said, "Tell him he'll have to use the Dedicate's money to buy more." Unable to write, her verbal message would luckily be remembered by Cece's sharp mind.

"Leave the apple." She said, sharply, and Cece retracted her hand, which had been reaching towards one of the cider apples in the basket.

"Sorry Mistress Layla." She said, quickly leaving the room.

The twins left soon after, as Mistress Layla began to cook. There was less activity now, but still some noise. It all disappeared the moment they entered the woods bordering the Abbey grounds. Britta hurried along through the dense forest and to the stream. She knelt down and felt for the anchor string which held up the fish trap. She pulled up the trap and peered inside. The woven trap dripped with river weed and sagged where the anchor string held it. Quickly, she supported it with her other hand, feeling something move inside it. She immediately threw it on the bank.

"We've a got a fish!" she called to Diana who was up to her knees in the water gathering watercress with one hand and holding up her skirts with the other.

Diana grinned triumphantly. "Good." She said. "How should we cook it?"

Britta shrugged and dismantled the trap, deciding she would need to set someone to weave more. She placed some dock leaves in the basket she had brought to stop the slime getting everywhere and proceeded onto the next traps.

"It's a good day today!" she said brightly when she came back with another three fish.

They gathered some more greens and Britta snatched some herbs on the way back.

We should get a diverse meal tonight. She said to Diana.

She felt a prick of happiness from her sister as she imaged the gratitude of the others.

They arrived back to a very red Mistress Layla, tired from grinding the flour. Britta took over while Mistress Layla took care of the fish. Various other orphans found excuses to come into their kitchen, and Mistress Layla was hard pressed to keep fingers out of the baked fish and potatoes.

When dinner had been served, and Mistress Core had checked them over, everyone was quick to pull on night clothes and wash faces with the water some of the boys had brought in from the well. It was still cold, and by the time the Abbey bells had chimed seven times, it was dark as well. Envious of Mistress Core's soft bed and the warming pan she had in it, Britta curled up and fell asleep.