Holding his daughter by the collar of her tunic, Nalen's expression was stony as he strode to the door, roaring as he opened it and threw her down on the dirt outside. "Girls cannot be beastcrafters! How many times have I told you!"
Glaring back from the ground, dust swirling around her eyes, Inalla snapped back at her father, as she always did. "Well what else am I gonna do, huh? Well father? You said yourself I was absolutely useless! The only daughter in a family of sons! I want to-"
"It doesn't matter what you want!" Nalen cried, shaking his head. "Haven't you got that yet? Next turn we're going to find you a suitable husband - you're not apprenticing! They wouldn't let a 16-turn-old start anyway; you're too old!"
Inalla spluttered from the ground, trying to come up with a suitable response as she pried dirty brown hair from her face. "You said no-one would want to have me as a spouse anyway!" She finally came up with, brushing her tunic off and starting to stand up.
"I'd be surprised!" Nalen admitted, though his eyes were flashing maliciously. "No-one wants a girl who enjoys getting dirty in the stables!"
"But you're always telling my brothers that-"
"Your brothers are a totally serperate issue! They are men, and men are apprenticed. Girls are not!"
Bitterly Inalla wondered why her brothers were called 'men', and herself a 'girl'. Her youngest brother was ten. "They can be! They can! Just because you're so hidebound since mother died, doesn't mean that you should stop me from-"
His face turning a nasty shade of red, Nalen slammed the door behind him, but his bellow was heard for miles anyway. "Don't bring your mother into this! You can sit out there until you've got a decent attitude!"
Inalla was inclined to yell back at her father, but then the door opened again violently, and again Nalen stood there, towering over his only daughter, one of his belts in hand. Inalla had seen that belt used on her brothers on their more adventurous days, but never had Nalen dared to use it on his daughter.
Scrambling backwards quickly, Inalla's eyes wide as she stumbled, the girl spun around and ran, hoping that he wasn't following but not willing to turn around and see. It was bad enough having her back face him. She heard the snap of the belt, and then the tiny sting on her ankle as part of it caught her. Inalla almost sobbed, though not from the small pain that the belt had made, but from the shock of having her father whip her.
Inalla didn't recognise her surroundings until she had to slow down, her heart beating fast in her chest and her breath coming ragged. She strained to hear footsteps following her, but couldn't - and then she noticed she was in the stables, and cursed. No guesses were needed if anyone wanted to find her. Damn her subconscious for guiding her!
Still gasping for breath, and having to double over every few steps to rest, Inalla made her way over to her runner's stable, and another sob caught in her throat as she saw the mare's empty stall - the Gather. Her father had sold Bretta.
Her head snapped around as she heard footsteps coming towards her, and her father's entreating voice. "Inalla! Come on, come back home lass..."
Gasping, and thinking the exact last thing she wanted to do was let Nalen see her with tears running down her face, Inalla was for a moment lost as to what to do. And then her subconscious kicked in again; her hands grappled for a bridle hanging on the hooks, and she momentarily paused, wondering if she should get a saddle as well... and then she decided against it - it'd take too much time.
Stifling a gasp as she heard the footsteps coming closer, Inalla hurriedly made her feet work and stumbled to the nearest stall, grappling with the lock for a moment until it finally came undone with a soft click. She froze, wondering if her father had heard, but the footsteps didn't even falter.
Her head faced the front of the stall as she bridled the runner in the stall automatically without looking, except when she had to do up the clasps and put in the bit. Her hands shook, and she thought it was on account of that that the bridle didn't fit the runner. Until she glanced up and registered whose runner it was.
It was Bolt. Her fathers prize stallion.
Groaning, but unwilling to give up now, Inalla loosened the cheekstrap, trying to be as quiet as she could as she heard her father in the stalls on the other side of the alley. Bolt looked at her mildly, as if asking why she was saddling him up; no-one else but Nalen ever rode him.
Her father's footsteps drawing ever-closer rather slowly, Inalla whimpered as she fought with the buckle, until finally it clasped, though she scraped her knuckles on the metal buckle. Putting her hand to her lips, she waited a moment before hitching herself up on the wall of the stable, swinging one leg over Bolt's broad, bare back. Biting her bottom lip, Inalla gathered up the reins, trying not to feel nervous about riding a runner bareback - she'd always used a saddle.
"Inalla! What do you think you're-" Nalen's enraged face appeared at the front of the stable. Inalla's eyes widened, and her heels tapped against Bolt. Obediently - and joyfully, Inalla swore later - Bolt gathered up on his hindquarters and then launched at her father. It went so fast, Inalla didn't know whether the stallion's hooves connected with her father's chest or not, because already Bolt was galloping out of the stables, only the beat of his hooves and the gasping breath of herself heard.
 TACITUS VILLAGE |
She bounced around on Bolt's back, unaccustomed to riding without a saddle and also not used to Bolt's long gait. The Hold flashed past, and then her cothold, and then the fields of plants, with people working hard to harvest them. Inalla could see some people watching her as Bolt cantered past, wondering why a girl was riding what looked to be a prized stallion.
Why was she riding him? Inalla cursed at her own stupidity. She couldn't go back, not know when she'd just stolen Bolt.
Tugging on the reins, Inalla slowed Bolt down to a trot, and then a walk as she couldn't stay on his back properly with his bouncy trot. She leant down and buried her head in Bolt's mane, trying not to cry about what she'd just done. Her mother had always told her when she was alive that she was brash, and always making stupid decisions; and no she believed it. As far as she knew, girls weren't allowed to be beastcrafters, and her father's excuses as to why she couldn't apprentice were well-founded.
She suddenly noticed that she wa being bounced around a bit more, and pulled her face from Bolt's mane to find him going in a flat-out trot, whinnying nervously as a shdow passed over them. Cursing, Inalla pulled hard on the reins, but Bolt just ignored her, too busy trying to find a way to get away. Craning her neck up, Inalla could see the sweeprider pair - a brown and green - flying low as they passed.
Bolt finally gave up fighting her and just stood stock still for a moment, and then turned and galloped from the spot in direction of the Hold. Inalla yelled at him, and managed to turn him the other way, but he didn't even slow down, even while Inalla was hanging off the reins. She had no stirrups, and no real balance to keep her on the stallion's back. Bolt was terrified of the dragons; so when he kicked up his back legs and then reared, Inalla held on for a moment and then fell hard, hitting her head and blacking out.
Bolt - no pun intended - bolted.
Her first conscious thought was that her head hurt. Very badly. And then other aches and pains started to become apparent, the worst of which was her left arm - inspection of it showed that it was in a sling, but she could still move it a rather lot.
"Ah, so you're awake," The smiling face of a young woman came into Inalla's view, and she sat bolt upright in the cot, wincing as her head ached even more from being vertical. The woman in front of her looked concerned, and pushed her shoulders back gently to the sheets. "No, no, you're definitely not ready to be upright - even you'll have to admit that. I'm Pola - a healer. That was one mighty big knock you took to your head, lass." Pola grinned at Inalla, turning away for a moment and then handing a bowl of broth to her. "Lucky the sweepriders saw you - and they said to say that they're awfully sorry. They've been in to see if you're alright, since it was their dragons who frightened your runner."
Inalla gazed blankly at Pola, and then dropped her gaze to the broth. What was the healer talking about?
"But anyway," Pola went on, flashing a smile. "I'll leave you for a bit - don't hesitate to call for anything, will you now?"
Inalla shook her head slowly, though it hurt to do even that. "What's wrong with me?" She asked, wincing as she put her head in her hands.
Pola sat back down on the cot, reaching behind her and grabbing a wet cloth, her expression sympathetic as she eased Inalla back into the cot, and placed the cloth on her forehead. "Oh, nothing time won't heal, don't worry lass. You just had a bit of concussion, falling on your head like that. And we think you sprained your arm only mildly. It'll get better; you might have headaches for another few turns, but evetually that will fade as well. Oh, I forgot to ask, lass - what's your name?"
Inalla gaped at Pola, absorbing that information silently and then opening her mouth automatically to supply her name. Nothing came out, and her jaw snapped back together audibly.
Pola watched her with a strange expression on her face, as Inalla's mouth worked, trying to form her name. "You don't know, do you?" Pola asked quietly, and rather sadly.
The girl could only shake her head helplessly, and then burst into tears. Pola's arms instantly encircled Inalla, and she made soothing noises. "There there, lass, nothing to worry about. It's often an effect of concussion - most people get their memories back within a day or two. Can you remember anything at all? Who were your parents? Brothers? Sisters?"
Another sob escaped Inalla as she shook her head again. "I... I can remember I had brothers," She managed to say between hiccups. "I can't remember anything else..."
Pola leaned back, tucking a strand of Inalla's hair behind her ear and smiling kindly. "Just try and keep thinking about it, lass. Eventually things will come back to you - just might take a bit. And when you do, we'll take you back to your family, ok?"
Inalla nodded slowly, her hand fiddling with the spoon for her broth. "Thankyou," She whispered, putting the spoon down to wipe at her face. "Thankyou."
Pola stayed for a moment more, grinning slightly. "I guess the sweeprider's apology means nothing to you, really - you can remember how you got concussion?"
Shaking her head, Inalla couldn't help but smile back - Pola's grin was infectious. "No."
The healer laughed, standing up ad patting Inalla on the thigh. "Well, I'll tell them, but they'll probably want to come and see you anyway after you have a rest. Now eat that up, and then have more sleep - you need it."
Inalla uttered her thanks again, and did as Pola asked.