Maiden, Mother, Crone

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The mule nipped at Marjan’s hand as she burdened it with her packs. She pushed its nose away, careful not to hurt it. She needed the mule to be well. Her life — and her unborn child’s — depended on it.

She led the mule outside the stable and carefully latched the door behind them. She didn’t want the other animals to suffer from the cold. Bad enough she was stealing the mule. She didn’t want Iresna and Gavek to lose anything else.

She mounted and kicked the lazy mule into motion. Its hooves crunched slowly across the snow, step after step, into the endless night. Marjan could have walked faster, but didn’t have enough endurance for the long descent through the icy mountains.

Her whole body felt tight and tense. Her belly cramped. Relax, she told herself. She couldn’t allow herself to start the ride so weak and weary.

She stared into the dark, wishing for a thicker moon to strengthen the light. Dense clouds obscured the needle-pricks of the stars. The air smelled crisp and vacant. New, wet flakes tumbled across Marjan’s cheeks, and she realized it was snowing. She pulled her hands into the sleeves of the too-large furs she’d stolen from Iresna’s chests.

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