Chapter One - Fangs in the Mist

         Reina's fingers were muddy again. Her sister wouldn’t be happy with her about it. The very thought of dirt made her sister furious, disgusted, sickened, and obsessed with the idea of cleaning all at the same time. One look at these mud-encrusted fingernails and Ayara would bring out her grooming kit. Reina hated that blessed little kit with her whole being. Nothing was worse than sitting beside her sister, grinding her teeth while Ayara nearly tore the flesh from under her nails to work out any specs of dust that might have escaped the first twenty passes.
         It had never before been an issue with Reina about how she looked. She dressed with the most casual of ease, and comfort was more of a deciding factor than aesthetics. As she continued to examine her hands, she grudgingly admitted that they may be long and slender like her sister’s, and could even be pretty if she took the time to properly clean them. Her skin was darker than Ayara’s but only because of her time in the sunlight. The only things that really marred her hands were the calluses on her palms and scrapes embedded in her knuckles. And the harshly bitten-off nails.
         After pulling her barely shoulder-length, straight brown hair into a loose tail behind her head, Reina began batting off most of the dirt and mud from her sleeves. Then she rolled them up to her elbows and studied her arms. They were well-rounded for a girl. Not muscular in the way a man’s was, certainly, but there was a firmness there that spoke of strength and competence in her movements and actions. Maybe they were attractive, but she didn’t care either way. Her hands continued brushing vigorously at her clothes, but as she “cleaned” she looked herself over for any real flaws in her appearance she knew was there somewhere. Her form was still boyish, but her hips were wide, and her waist was narrow and muscular from the lifting and twisting and throwing that a lot of her chores involved. Her long legs had a strong tone to them, and if she lifted the legs of her pants, she’d be able to see where the sun had tanned them as well when the work required the leggings that had been cut clear up to the middle of her thighs. All in all, she might be seemly, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t win any awards for her looks.
         Reina looked down at her shoes and sighed. She would have to clean them, too. And if she got even a bit of mud on the freshly scrubbed floors of her home, Ayara would have a mop and bucket of water in Reina’s hands so fast, they would almost appear by Song work. Just yesterday, they had cleaned the little farmhouse from top to bottom because Ayara found a leaf or twig or something on their doorstep. As if nature was attempting to personally offend her - and probably did - Ayara took on her most determined look and dragged Reina away from her horses to clean. Noname, her piebald colt, and Willin, her Da’s dun gelding, were perfectly content to silently mock Reina outside in the beautiful sunlight, idly munching on oats and swatting flies with their religiously brushed tails. Reina loved her sister dearly, but the mere thought of how she took to cleaning like a lark to the air so frequently nearly put her to tears of frustration. Oh, if only to have a day where nothing happened to spur on a, orgy of housework so she could be with her horses from sunup to sundown.
         Ayara was only three years older than Reina, but after their mother died, she took it upon herself to become the woman of the house. And she took so well to the duty that she nearly put her mother to shame, Lady Abrianna ease her soul. Reina was perfectly content to be a normal young woman growing on their little farm and tending the horses after her chores. But Ayara had also taken on their mother’s duty of turning Reina into “the perfect little lady.” Reina shuddered at the thought. She was never educated in anything aside from working the farm and performing what a lot of the townsfolk would consider men’s work. Her father was perfectly capable of the work himself, but something appealed to her about working with her hands. And where better to bring out the capability of those hands than a horse’s stall and the fields with her Da?
         Sighing, she fell back against the small well. The well felt good against her back. She had filled several house pales with water and started the waterworks so they irrigated the crops directly. The work was done hours ago. And they had water for supper that night. But now, she simply sat and admired her grungy hands and rumpled shirt and trousers - her sister would fume about the new rips in them as well - and watched the road as if someone were to come with news of the places she would never visit.
         Sometimes people did come, singing songs from other lands and spreading news of this struggle for power over that nation, or that criminal being brought to justice by this army. She thought them all fables, but the passers-by would always swear them to be true. Today, no news would come. The air smelled of a storm and the horses were acting in their usual manner to confirm it. No one ever traveled in storms except fools and vagabonds. The season for travel would end soon as well. The seasons were bound to change and the crops would be ready in a week or two.
         She glanced down from the well at her tiny home, where the buildings seems a collection of toys snuggled into the welcoming embrace of the gently sloping hillock valleys. It was a simple place, really; a small two story building with two bedrooms and a main room that had barely any kind of extension into a workable kitchen, a simple barn with cracked and peeling lumber that held Noname and Willin at night if the weather was bad, and the granary nearby where wheat and barley were fixed into manageable loads. The furnishings were a bit crude, and the small covered porch on the front of the house was dingy and creaked when she stepped wrong, but overall it was a fine place to live. It‘s window casements were simple, but Reina had no need of eloquent windows to see from. Most of the newer farms and the buildings in the town a couple of leagues away were roofed in slate, but her Da had prided himself on keeping with tradition and made their roof with thick thatch. It worked just fine for Reina. And just behind the house was a small, private garden where their personal foodstuffs were grown; tomatoes, turnips, celery and cucumbers, potatoes. And in a very neat pair of rows down the side were the herbs that would spice and season the food. The joy of knowing her meals would be prepared with her own crops make Reina smile contentedly.
         “This is how life is supposed to be.” Reina sighed, lacing fingers behind her head.
         “Reina, dear!” A rich, silky voice called from further down the hill. Reina groaned, wishing she could take the words back. How fitting it was for Ayara to suddenly appear and ruin a perfectly good spring evening.
         Her sister crested a hill, coming into view, and the burdens of life seemed to suddenly fall onto Reina’s shoulders all over again. The tall woman glided - glided! - across the field, her elegant wide brimmed hat shading her face as if hiding it from the harshest of summer’s sunlight instead of a spring storm’s dulcet glow. Her white dress was spotless, even with the grass that swirled around her feet. How dirt and grass didn’t leave their marks on Ayara, Reina would never know. Her sister’s face was delicately framed by radiant brunette hair that curled in wonderful cascades down her shoulders and bright blue eyes glimmered with determination. It was nearly time to begin cleaning again, just by the look in those radiant eyes. Reina watched her sister finish the last few paces as elegantly, if not a little more hurried, and grudgingly admitted to herself that her sister was absolutely beautiful. She also reminded herself that she would never attain that beauty or power of presence. But, then, why would she want to? If she were so concerned with her looks, the horses would never get tended to.
         “Reina. My dear, sweet sister,” Reina tensed, knowing she was in trouble. “How many times do I have to remind you that you will never attract the eyes of young men by lounging in the grass and muddying yourself up so; and spending so much of your time with that dirty horse of yours?” Behind her, Noname grazed in the tall grass idly, flippantly tossing his tail or taking a step off to another direction to search for fuller tufts. His once-shiny coat of patched white and brown was now dingy and brownish with the stains of his travels from one end of the farm to the next, day after day. His tail and mane were glossier than Ayara’s from brushing, though. “And look at your nails! They are hiding so much mud.”
         “Well, Ayara, I never really tend to want those boys looking at me, and I can’t get comfortable unless I lounge somewhere soft. And if I so much as sit on my bed, you’ll tear my room apart cleaning it just because of a few wrinkles in my covers.”
         Despite the lady-like façade, Ayara stuck her tongue out at Reina. Unable to contain herself, Reina burst into gales of laughter, falling onto her side into a large puddle. As she righted herself, half of her face drenched in fresh mud and only able to see out of one eye because of the cake covering the other, she nearly fell over again at the mortified astonishment of her sister.
         “You, my dear, sweet baby sister,” Ayara started, her voice dripping venom, “might fancy a trip into a pond or stream to clean yourself. Maybe then, if you are clean enough to walk through the house, you can take an appropriate bath before supper.” The way she stated it, it wasn’t speculation, but a demand. Ayara would die before letting Reina stomp around the house in her muddy clothes. She turned and started back for the house just in time for the slow rumble of storm clouds announcing Reina’s suspicions of a storm. “And you might want to hurry. If we don’t get to those nails, it will take hours to clean them.”
         “I hope your nails fall off from all the attention you give them,” Reina growled over the strong clap of thunder rolling off the ceiling of clouds. Here and there, soft wet noises shifted the grass as heavy drops of rain began to fall.
         Ayara heard, turning back with an obvious retort strong on her lips. Before she could say anything, a flash of lightning played against glistening eyes wide with fright. Reina hardly considered herself someone terrifying, unless you took into account the mud and dirt and stains, and that would be more than enough to frighten her sister. But not like this. She turned around and looked into the forest behind her, just in time to see a thick black cloak shrouding a tall figure on a massive horse larger than any she had tended before. Both seemed crafted from Shade. A long, thin staff slanted across the figure’s back, glistening from the drizzle that started only moments after its appearance. A sword hilt stuck out from the front of the cloak, the darkened hilt bent at the farthest end in a slow slope of blackwood.
         After another flash of lightning, Reina was simply staring at trees. She blinked several times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Perhaps the stories her Da read to her before bed were finally getting to her. Wild fancies appearing out of nowhere and simply vanishing again? She was losing her mind. She turned and gathered her few trinkets - a large feather tipped with blue, a string tied in a long circle that she played “Dancer’s Lace” with, and a rumpled and faded picture of her mother - then simply stood and let the rain clean her of her adventures and fancies. Her sister was standing there, completely ignoring the rain around her, and staring after the spot where the figure had stood. Reina sighed and took her sister’s soaking arm, rousing her.
         “Come on, Sissy. Let’s not worry about shadows dancing at us before a storm. We’ll go get cleaned up and have supper. Da will be wondering where we are if we show up late.” Reina couldn’t help but look back once, hoping she had simply imagined things.

         Albrecht sighed, looking at the one glamorous thing they owned in the little farmhouse for what seemed the millionth time. The gentle tick tick of the cherry-wood clock pricked at his calm as needles pricked the skin. The table was far from set, the candles had not been lit and the stew in the hanging pot on the fireplace hearth was cold from sitting only on embers from hours ago. Reina not being inside during a storm was easily explained. She wouldn’t care if all the storms in the world fused into one and dumped sheets of rain on her. She’d simply sit back and enjoy it for as long as it lasted. But Ayara was another matter. His eldest despised nature as much as she despised how far from town they lived. If she could live closer to town, where the shops and the people were, she would be happy. And the only work she felt herself fit for was the housework. Albrecht didn’t mind at all. His daughter would make a fine wife and mother one day. Albrecht himself would not survive forever, and to see his daughters married and well-to-do would be a fine end to a most fulfilling life. He had to chuckle at the thought of Reina wedding some poor oaf of a boy too confused to realize he was Tuning the Marriage - a quaint religious term for saying their vows - and giving his soul to her until it was too late.
         He had been much the same way, so many years ago. His leathery right hand rubbed across the thick stubble of an old man’s unshaven face. He looked his reflection over in the nearby hanging mirror, noting changes in himself he had not noticed before. Dark, wavy brown hair from his past had turned limp and greasy, and was now speckled with silver strands. Where his youth had once granted him firm skin and strong, almost chiseled features, his face now seemed dumpy and wrinkled. Hardened muscles of the past had been replaced with flab and paunch, and the only thing saving him from being overweight was the work he did in the fields. Once-proud shoulders had been held back with dignity, yet now they drooped with old age and weariness. He was nearly fifty, and his life was nearing its twilight. To leave two girls behind was too much to think of, but he had a plan to follow - just in case. The Village Elders would care for the girls as if they had done so all of their lives. He trusted them more than . . . well, that wasn’t important now, but he trusted them. What was important now was getting supper re-prepared when his girls came home. Where were they?
         “Da!” Reina called from the front room. “We’re back!”
         Albrecht heaved a sigh of relief that he was unaware of holding. His girls were safe. Why would they not be? A voice mumbled in his mind. He shrugged it off, wishing its emergence would have come later. His mind was slipping, too. Perhaps he was talking only to himself, but he knew otherwise. That voice from the past sounded too familiar for comfort. “Girls, you’re late. You both had me worried.”
         “Oh, Father,” Ayara heaved a tolerant sigh, taking great care to make as minimal a mess as she could as she walked into the room. “It is all Reina’s doing, making me walk outside in this weather. Unnatural is what it is. Why the girl thinks it a good idea to play in the mud and stay out long past time to return inside is beyond me.”
         “She’s enjoying herself is what she’s doing.” Albrecht smiled, cupping the muddy cheek of his youngest, kissing her forehead. “It’s not unnatural. Go wash up, Reina. Then get those embers brought back to flames so we can eat.”
         “But Father!” Ayara yelped, aghast. “She’ll-”
         “She’ll be fine. What’s a little mud beside a harsh spring fever?” Albrecht said simply. He cupped his other daughter’s chin, kissing her forehead as well. “You’re going to have to learn, my dear, that there is more to life than cleaning and proving yourself to young men.”
         “Oh, Father. You say such simple things as if they were the cure for anything.”
         “Aren’t they? Now go wash up for supper. You don’t want those spring fevers, either.”
         Ayara sighed and followed her sister up, gasping at the mud trail and muttering how she would have to stay up long after bedtime to clean her sister’s mess; as if she weren’t planning to in the first place. And, as always, she would be up long before he would. She truly was the woman of the house now.
         Not long after, the three of them were sitting quietly around a small table, dirty plates piled up before them, rubbing full bellies. Expect for Ayara; a Lady would never rub her belly that way. Albrecht puffed contentedly on his simple pipe, enjoying the flavor of his home grown Smokeweed. He may have been the farmer of simple crops, but he earned his land and home with the large fields of Smokeweed he raised since before he could remember; or wanted to at least.
         “So, girls, what happened today that I may have missed with my old eyes?” Albrecht smiled. The words were easy and carefree, but his heart held fear of what he would hear, much as he had these past few years.
         “Well Father, the kitchen was an absolute mess this morning when I woke up. It took me hours to clean those pots from last night. If you had let me clean them then instead of waiting until the morning, I would have spent half the time doing it. And let’s not forget the mess I’ll need to work on tonight.”
         Reina shot her sister a glare filled with daggers. “I had a wonderful time today, Da. I spent the morning with Willin and Noname. Noname’s hooves are looking fine, and I might actually get away with shoeing her without bruising her feet this week; especially if we have to go to town. Willin’s shoes won’t last, though, so I’ll have to hack off his old ones and put on some fresh shoes. Could you make sure Hubern makes him a set? And make sure his right foreleg gets reinforced. He’s favoring that side again.”
         “I’ll make sure he gets the message, Dear Heart, but you can ask him just as easily.”
         Reina simply shrugged. “He listens better to you. I guess he’s still not used to a girl who knows horses better than he does. Anyway, I set the irrigation channel like you told me to, even though it rained an hour later.”
         “It’s all right, Reina. It happens,” Albrecht said, puffing slowly, eyes slightly lost. “Anything else?”
         “I think Reina saw some shadow in the trees and thought it was a monster from one of your tales. I told you that children will be prone to such fancies when their imaginations are left to wander.” Ayara grinned wickedly at her sister.
         “You saw him, too, Sissy. And don’t even try to tell me that your face looked so white because of all the mud I was swimming in.”
         “I was not scared of him. I was just . . . curious. He seemed dangerous.”
         “I don’t care how normal you thought he was. I don’t even think it was human! I think he might have been-"
         “Oh, don’t say it, Reina,” Ayara sighed, exasperated.
         "-a Nightwalker!” Reina’s eyes lit up like emeralds in sunlight.
         “You and your stories, Father,” Ayara said, looking over at Albrecht. He jumped at their eyes, noticing that they had been staring at him for some time. The smoke from the pipe had gone out, too. How long had he been puffing an unlit pipe?
         “Nightwalkers are just fantasy. No need to dwell on their kind,” he said firmly, tapping the ash onto his plate.
         “But, Da-”
         “I said let it be!” Albrecht winced inside at the pained look on his daughters’ faces. He should not have been so harsh. He wanted them to know fantastical creatures as nothing more than stories, but how long would that last?
         Their talk was simple afterwards, if slightly subdued. It ranged from simple thing such as cleaning and chores to their trip to town later in the week. They had not been for a month and the supplies were seriously lacking. The farmhands were able to make regular trips if it was important, but as a whole, they liked to wait until everyone could go at the same time. Patching irrigation tubes was not easy at all, even with so many people on hand, so they would simply have to buy more to replace the ones that were cracked or leaking. Ayara would complain of the trip to town and the noise and dust from the men, but as soon as the buildings were in sight, she would insist that the ride - which had previously been far too bumpy for a Lady’s dignity - was suddenly much to slow. She would barter for more than just their supplies, by the end of the day buying herself a new book and a new dress or two, and who knew what else?
         Finally, dim into the night, after Ayara insisted enough, Albrecht and Reina slumped off to bed, weary from the past month’s efforts. Ayara herself kept her word and began working at the mud stains on the wood floors. Reina kissed Albrecht’s cheek and then headed into her room to fall asleep in the clothes she would wear in the morning. Ayara would probably sleep a few hours and then wake up an hour before the others to groom herself accordingly, as any self-respecting Lady would. He hoped that the night would hold nothing more for them.

         Reina awoke long past what her sister would consider a decent hour. The restlessness had returned. She could hardly sleep at night anymore. More often than she liked, she found herself napping in haylofts or against the well, because her sleep was never complete. She had taken to her father’s Smokeweed a week before, and it helped ease her nerves. Taking out her hand-carved pipe and a small pouch of Smokeweed, she walked outside as quietly as possible, making sure to leave her family snoring. Reina chuckled darkly. Ayara would die if she knew she made more noise than her Da did while she slept.
         The well was just as she remembered from a few hours ago, muddy and beaded with raindrops. What trouble would she land herself in if she were to drag mud in this late at night? Her sister would nearly die of heart stoppage. And her Da would never forgive her if he ever found out that she was taking part of his crop for herself. The small lantern she brought out was easy to light the pipe from, and not long after, she was puffing merrily on the much-too-simple thing, just as her father would. Perhaps in the morning she would buy him a well-crafted pipe so she could take over his. At least her lips weren’t splintered from the rough stem anymore. It had taken weeks to get it all smoothed out and some glib talking to keep her tail out of the fire.
         “What a night,” Reina sighed, sitting at the edge of the well, looking up at the heavy clouds and the few stars peeking through. “A person could sleep out here if-"
         "-if it hadn’t rained three hours ago,” a voice whispered behind her. The voice itself was hypnotizing, and much richer than her sister’s, yet more masculine, more powerful.
         Reina yelped, spinning around to confront the figure she had seen from the trees. Immediately, she cursed herself for being so startled. She grumbled as she picked up the muddy pipe and cleaned it before replacing the stem between her teeth. The figure was just as resplendent in the darkness as he had been earlier. He walked his black mare slowly to her, feeding it a thick, glossy red apple. “What are you doing here?”
         “I’m just walking Rethkin, here. He gets restless if I leave him tied to a branch for too long.” He smiled, a faint glimmer from the moonlight dancing off his teeth. Was one pointed? Was he truly the Nightwalker she suspected him to be? Was she going to die from her foolhardy sleepless walk? “And if it isn’t too bold of me, shouldn’t a young lady such as you be sleeping instead of puffing a fine weed out here in the middle of the night?”
         “I do as I please, thank you.” Reina may be walking the brink of death, but her wit would never wilt away. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of his teeth again, and it was easier to see this time. The man had fangs. “What . . . what are you?”
         “I am just a simple man in search of an inn.” The figure was sitting next to her now, puffing at his pipe, which was much too fine to be used in such a way. It looked like a mantelpiece rather than a working Smokeweed pipe. The encrusted silver against the solid black wood was gorgeous. Maybe he was a country lord to be out here? No noblemen would ever find themselves here. “What about you?”
         “I’m just a silly little girl out for a nightly smoke,” Reina said with a smile, inhaling and sighing the smoke away. “Or is it not that apparent to you?”
         “I recede my prior query.” The man was mocking her! “But, if it’s not too forward of me, how long have you lived here? I knew a family that lived here a long time ago, and I was wondering if you knew of them.”
         “We’ve been here as long as I can remember; which is a long time, mind. I don’t think any other family lived here. My Da built this place.” Reina was proud of that, she would set this well-dressed vagabond right, no matter what he could - or would - do to her.
         “Did he?” The man rose, pipe immediately gone, and moved to his horse’s saddle. In his passing, Reina saw again the hints of a sword under the cloak. As the thick material parted, a glint of liquid gold and blood red enamel shined. On the black of the scabbard, a strange design in the same gold and red coloring reflected light across her face. “Well, then. If I have made an error, I ask your forgiveness and a favor. Which way would I find a dwelling for the remainder of the night? My horse is tired, and I’m finding it hard to stay awake, myself.”
         “Well, your manners are better than a few things about you. And you speak so beautifully.” Reina grinned broadly, showing him that she wasn’t impressed with his litany. “Go up the road for about another five leagues. After a while, you’ll see two torches burning. Let them know that the daughter of their famous Smokeweed farmer sent you. You’ll be set up with a fine room for the day.”
         “I thank you.” The man bowed from the waist in his saddle, then flipped her a gold piece. Her eyes were suddenly wide and the pipe sank lower in her teeth as she almost dropped the coin.
         “Lady Abrianna, this is more money than I’ve ever seen in my life! I like tall men in dark armor!”