(Backdated entry)
“Jiulan!” She cried out, louder this second time, though it seemed to Ourna that the thick fog muffled her voice. He was ahead, just on the edge of vision, and she quickened her pace. She had no idea what she would say to him when she caught up to him. Thousands of conversations had passed through her brain on the road since he left, but nothing even remotely seemed appropriate.
Something touched her shoulder, and Ourna turned her head slightly, thinking to see Tremaen behind her. Surely he would follow. Wasn't that his voice she heard calling her name? But behind, there was nothing but gray, a solid wall that might as well have been stone for all she could see. Briefly, the ugly thoughts that Tremaen had now abandoned her as well crossed her mind, a momentary straight razor to her heart. Ourna shook her head. No, not him. There had to be something else going on, something keeping him from her. He was not Jiulan. Tremaen would never leave her willingly, though she couldn't have said why she was certain of that. She seemed to hear a low, dusky, female voice say, as in answer, “He is your Aniam.” Not certain if it was aloud or in her mind,
Ourna could make no sense of the answer anyway. Casting her gaze forward again, the vision of her brother was gone, though the chilly gray was thinning ahead. Almost by instinct, she reached for an arrow, but her hand met only fog, and she realized she had no bow. The idea that she was unarmed was only marginally less troubling than the idea that she had dropped one of the last things her father had given her. “Nakane is lost,” that woman's voice spoke again, sounding like an echo of thought, but again, Ourna didn't understand. Letting out a breath, she muttered about being a fool.
Images flickered in the gray. Everyone she knew and cared about danced through like smoke. Mother, Father, brother again, the militia, Tremaen. Xylanthe, Albrecht, Develan, Tonanti. A small, boyish dark haired man in black. A large bear of a man with claws for fingernails that she knew did pierce skin accidentally in throes of lust. A fog mirror showed not the gold-shot raven and dark eyes of her own body, but lovely woman with hair like spun sunlight and eyes of twilight sky. Yes, she knew this woman. From dreams.
With that, she stepped into a clearing, both in woods and fog, though both still framed the spot all around. There was even a dome of branches and fog overhead, though there was light as if full day shone here. Though these things aren't what she noticed first. It was the girl, a gleefully grinning woman.
“Oooooooh, you're here, you're here!” The strange woman was all in shades of purple, matching her long hair bound up by a giant ribbon. Tilted eyes of teal sparkled, pale-skinned ears drew up to sharp points. Even as the woman clapped her hands like a child with a new toy, Ourna couldn't help but note the strange, ethereal beauty of her. In a way, it reminded her a little of Tremaen. Fey touched. As Ourna's stomach fell with realization of what happened, something else boiled up. “I thought you'd never get here. Come, come!”
Ourna stalked forward trying to recall if she'd ever read anything that would support the idea that one of the Fair Folk could be throttled. She had a mind to try one way or another. “Return me, now!”
Teal eyes blinked rapidly. “Why?”
A couple more steps brought Ourna nearly face to face with the creature. “Because my friends are out there.”
The faerie woman took a step back and blinked even more rapidly. “But I can't. And the trees are on fire and the Hunt is there and he will be so happy you're here. Aren't you happy you're here? Everyone should be happy.”
Ourna simply closed the distance with a step, “No, I can't say I am.” She reached up her hands to grab the woman by the front of her purple cloak, and was staggered back by a face full of…butterflies? She waved them away from her face, but only succeeded after they began to disintegrate into little colored bits of paper, and those vanished entirely.
Now, the fey girl was off to her right, and Ourna turned and started toward her again, determined to get her hands on her captor. She heard the woman let out a squeak, and for a moment Ourna thought she might be getting through to her. Suddenly, however, Ourna found herself on the ground with the air knocked out of her, and something growling in her ear.
Twisting, Ourna tried to get some leverage to counter her attacker, and got a look at him. He was a beast man, a lion man, but softly purple. Somehow, she knew that this was no illusion and pulled her leg to execute a hard kick to his middle, scrambling back. In getting back from him, she felt claws rip along her side. Heart thumping, Ourna really started wishing she knew more of hand to hand fighting.
Growling, the man-beast lunged again, and the fight went in earnest. Ourna surprised herself by managing well more than just defending, though earning a few more scratches for her efforts.
Both of them found their feet, and the man-beast grappled Ourna from behind, one furry arm across her stomach. She was about to twist and do something rather painful to him when a voice rang out “Stop, stop it.” For a long moment, Ourna could almost feel the fey woman's words rattle in her skull, and they had the intended effect, for the attacker had frozen in place as well.
Turning her head, Ourna regarded again the woman, who was chewing on her lip. After a moment, she spoke again, in a less ringing voice, “She's not an intruder, Kierhan. I brought her here. For you.”
Ourna could feel the one called Kierhan change, at the same moment she spoke in unison with him, “What?”
“You saw her, you said you thought she'd be a good mate. It took me a while to figure out which one she was, you know. I had to wait until she shot the bow.” The girl beamed with uncertain pride. “You both can now be happy.”
Turning her head, Ourna saw her own bafflement reflected in a now very human face (though one with amber cat eyes and light purple beard and hair), and tried to dredge up an ounce of patience. Swinging her head back to the girl, Ourna spoke, slowly, “Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to come here and be his mate?”
Teal eyes blinked once, twice, three times. “Oops.” It was clear that the faerie matchmaker had not, in fact, considered that. “Um, do you already have one? The fey boy? I thought I saw a connection with him, so I gave him your things, but…”
“No…no…” Ourna irritated herself further by speaking just a touch too quickly. “I just have friends in trouble, and a thousand other things.” She could feel blood running from the scratches, and they burned like fire, neither of which served to improve Ourna's mood. “I cannot stay here. You must release me.” She was starting to glow a bit, knowing the mark on her brow was now shining, and was vaguely aware that others were now in the room.
“Double oops,” the faerie girl spoke, very softly.
The arm around Ourna finally disappeared with another growl. Craning her neck warily, she saw Kierhan backing away. “What have you brought on us, Keriam?”
“Look, just let me out and we'll all forget this happened.” She twisted her head the other way and caught glimpse of a purple maned lion and the disconcerting figure of a lioness on two legs leaning on a tree in very human fashion. “No trouble.”
“But I can't,” wailed Keriam. “None of us can! It's hard enough when we're not moving, and we're moving.”
“Moving? But I have to…”
She didn't get to finish her sentence as the lioness broke in, voice oddly lispy and raspy, “We should find her a room.”
Keriam started to speak again, but Kierhan snapped, “I don't care what you do with her, just keep that slaving Sunchild away from me.” He stalked out on powerful legs.
“Slaving?” Ourna blinked.
“Melichor never thought so.” A dusky voice answered in her head. Perhaps this is the way fey madness lie.
She shook her head a bit and noted that the lioness was now beside her, holding out a clawed hand. “I am Teleri. I will not ask you to excuse my family, but I suppose it's up to me to offer the excuses anyway.”
Ourna managed a quirk of a smile at the dry tone, despite it all. “Torves Ourna. Call me Ourna. Family?” She placed her hand on Teleri's, unsure if it was supposed to be a handshake or not, and despite finding it most disconcerting. Either way, it seemed to please the lioness.
“I will take you to a room and see to your wounds as we talk.” Teleri kept the hand and led Ourna through a space in the tree/fog dome. “Yes, we are all brothers and sisters. A litter, to be precise.” She must have seen the surprise on Ourna's face. “Our father was of the Fair Folk, our mother a chosen of Luna. Each of us is different though born within an hour of each other. Each of us different, as is the way of the Wyld.”
With a left turn, a little 'room' appeared. It was more of a small cave, really, with crystal stalactites reflecting light. Teleri motioned for Ourna to sit, and she was glad to do so. The lioness woman turned to a hole in the wall and seemed to pull a basin of water and bandages from it. Ourna cleared her throat. “How does that explain why I am here?”
Ourna never thought a lioness head could smirk, but this one made a fair attempt. “Keriam is closest to our father. She doesn't always remember that actions have consequence, or consider others outside of what she wants to do. Though, for the moment she does, and is quite upset.”
“Not enough to let me go, apparently.”
“She can't, she spoke true about that. None of us can.”
Ourna let it go for now. She could see that a different approach was needed. So, she found another topic, to gain information about her captors. “What of Kierhan?”
“Ah, he is our mother's child, chosen like her.”
“And you?”
“I am what you see. As is Cathair, the lion, for the most part. You probably will not see Annwyrn, not for a while anyway.”
“Five of you then?” Teleri nodded in answer while tying the last bandage. “Well, you seem more…” Ourna searched for an inoffensive word.
“Level?” There was that smirk again. “One of us has to be. I'm all done, so I'll leave you now. One of us will bring you food and clothing later. You are free to wander, but take a care not to get lost.”
She didn't wander. Stretched out on a long slab she supposed was a bed, Ourna tried to forget the sting of her wounds. The soft and dusky voice spoke things, much not understood, but she did finally put the names to the faces seen in the mists. Aniam, the small man in black. Melichor, the bear. She reasoned the men were important to the sun-haired woman. Rozacia. Her name was Rozacia. She was a queen, a general, a priest. Fallen. “The worst thing to be is forsaken, and the clarity to know why.”
Ourna shook her head violently. “Leave me be!”
“Be glad to, but I brought food and dress from Keriam. She is afraid to approach.”
Ourna sat straight up and blinked at the one named Kierhan, who stood cautiously at the door. “I wasn't speaking to you.”
Grunting with a slow blink of amber eyes, Kierhan tossed a mound of blue-green cloth into the center of the room. Ourna didn't take her eyes off him as she slipped over to retrieve it, watching him look at the tray in his hand as if trying to decide how to toss that as well without losing the contents. Finally, as Ourna backed to her position on the slab, clothing retrieved, Kierhan made his way over, setting the tray nearby. “I'm…sorry.” He muttered.
“That sounds like it cost you.” Ourna snorted. “Not something you're accustomed to?”
Kierhan looked for a moment like he was going to strike at her, and she prepared to defend herself, but he didn't. He just dropped a meaty hand back to his side. “I said I was sorry. For you being here.”
In return, she made a non-committal noise in her throat. “So, how long am I a prisoner for?”
“You're not a prisoner. You just … um … can't leave.”
Ourna spread her arms as if trying to encompass the cave-room. “And just what is your definition of prisoner, Kierhan? And look at my room.”
He did, and responded, “I will see that you are made more comfortable.”
Both fell to silence, regarding each other for a long moment, before he turned and stalked out.