AU Mara's Blurb

“Your purpose?”



“To protect.”



“Your mission?”



“To safeguard the valley.”



“Your r-“



“Guardian.”



“Do not interrupt. Y-“



“Is this really necessary?”



A very long pause. “Yo-“



“I mean, we do this every day, and have done it every day since my birth, practically. I know it. I’ve memorized it. I’ve taken it to heart. And it doesn’t relax me. That’s not a meditation exercise, it’s your, ‘Mara isn’t going to destroy us all’ mantra. I haven’t burned anything down in years.”



A very, very long pause. “Your –“



“Really?”



“What is your role in this Family?”



“Guardian. I’m not even th-“



“That will be all, Mara.”



A very long pause. “So much for not interrupting,” Mara mumbled as she slipped out of the cave.







She stepped out onto the summit of the cliff (Elder’s Landing, it was called) and stepped off. She was never quite certain where the first step would be – sometime an inch down, sometimes more. It was always a jarring first step in part because of that uncertainty and in part because of the sheer drop below, unfettered but by their fragile, ever changing, INVISIBLE staircase. (Seriously, she thought, who makes a staircase INVISIBLE???? They’re dangerous enough when you CAN see them!!) The walk down always took longer than the climb up; there was no “don’t look down!” possible, and the stairs turned and twisted according to the wind – the pole was too cold to hang onto for any length of time even when you could find it, and more than a few young ones had lost their footing. It was slow, careful going or else a quick, unpleasant death.



The rest of the day involved a lot of walking. The morning was spent passing to each dwelling (none so hard to reach as Elder’s Landing) and renewing the protection spells that had worn away during the night. None of those were Mara’s spells; hers ALWAYS lasted 3 or 4 days at a minimum, and she was very proud of it (which she should not have been, according to the Teachings). The morning’s Renewal usually lasted until High Sun, when she would break for a small lunch at the table with the other three Students. They all usually left the table hungry; especially Mara (or so SHE would tell you).



After their meager lunch they would set off together to scout the perimeter, two this way, and two that way. There was a Defense and an Offense, and today, Mara was Offense. She set the traps, as physical a task as it was magical, and her Defense partner set the distractions. They were slow to return, because Mara was small and called her partner to slow or backtrack to help her on more than one occasion. She hated Offense duty; the other three hated being her Defense partner. Today was no different; she had, once again, earned her partner’s eternal hatred by causing their late return Home and missing dinner.



After dinner, each student returned to his mentor for instruction. Mara’s was an old woman who had been brought back into Teaching especially for Mara; that was neither a compliment nor a particularly good thing for either teacher or student. She was the only one that had the patience and the power to train the little girl and to teach her the proper way to behave.



To hide.



And, under the firm guidance of the Elder-turned-Teacher, Mara learned and was assimilated into their Family, and she tried very hard to hide.



But after Renewals, and lunch, and Border Patrol, and Studying, and sometimes dinner, Mara left the safety of Home and slipped out of their valley. For hours, if she wasn’t too tired, she followed the old, dry riverbed up the mountain and into the forests that protected Home. She searched for signs of the Others that the Elders warned of, and she never saw any sign of anyone, ever, except the ruins of her old village. They still smoldered (all glowing embers and smoke) though she had been found as a tiny girl, now almost twelve years ago. At night, there was the red glow of the old buildings, like ghosts, against the black of night. There was wispy, silvery smoke that reached up for the moon and for Mara, curling around the village’s last daughter, to dance or comfort or hold.  She did not remember living here. She did not even remember her own parents: only the Elders. But something about the warmth and soul of the place comforted her when she was lonely, or frustrated by the small world that had swallowed her. Something about this place made promises to her and drew her back, night after night, to sit and watch, and dance with the ghosts that lingered there.