Divided Soul
by Theresa Ann Wymer
& Morgan D.

The Yu Yu Hakusho characters belong to Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, Studio Pierrot, Fuji TV and Jump Comics. All the rest is the product of our convoluted imagination.

Part II

Insomnia was an unwelcome old friend to Rui. All her closer neighbors commented every now and then how she managed to keep a clean, neat and tidy house like no other, and everyone pointed her as an example to all the Ice Maidens. Rui would bow her head before those comments; everyone took it as out of politeness. In fact, she was hiding a bitter, resented smirk.

An example... What a joke.

It's true though, she mused. She was an example too all others, the apprentice that rightly followed the path traced by the Elders, even when her mundane heart enticed her to be merciful to two offenders of the Sacred Laws. Maybe the guilt that kept her cleaning and washing and polishing the whole night through was simply part of the way to become an Elder. Maybe carrying the burden of an infanticide and the execution of a friend was the necessary sacrifice of the matriarchs to keep the children safe and ignorant of pain.

These thoughts offered her little solace, but kept her mind busy while the silence of the glacial nights began to scream too loud inside her head.

But tonight there was more to her uneasiness than her customary broodings. "Something happened," she said aloud, seeking company in the sound of her own voice. "I didn't see it happening. But... it's changed now. Or maybe it's awake."

Rui jumped at her own words. She hadn't known she would say them until she did. Neither she comprehended them.

Her immediate reaction was look out through the window and see if the sky had changed colors. A silly thing, a distant memory of a beautiful tale told to her when she had Yukina's age, about the coming of the Sun to the Glacier. A forbidden story she should know nothing about... but couldn't forget a single word.

There was nothing to be seen outside, of course. Just darkness and shadows.

"Does Yukina know?" she whispered, seeing the glass dimming with mist next to her lips. "Did Yukina bring this in?" No matter how hard the young maiden tried, she seemed to have a natural knack to be slightly wrong in most situations. Subtly misplaced. Faintly challenging. The nocturne cleansing fevers also served to cover up the trails of her pupil's... misbehavior? That wasn't fair, Yukina behaved so well, she was so calm and gentle and attentive!

But also... different. Perhaps "unexpected" was a better word. The little girl crossed a room and all objects would be moved a few inches out of their proper places. "I'm raising a puzzle I know I'll never decipher..."

Rui put two censoring fingers on her lips while she quietly walked towards the "sun room" to check on the girls.

The coming of the Sun to the Glacier...

I shouldn't let her call it this way, Rui silently chided herself. I should have forbidden her to do it right from the start! If any other Koorime decided to baptize a chamber like that, it wouldn't be a problem. But everyone kept attentive eyes on little Yukina, as if just expecting her to let some unthinkable blasphemy slip from her mouth. Four years before the girl had asked her to sew her an orange kimono. Rui herself had had one as a little kid, before the chance of training to become an Elder was offered to her. For Yukina however... It was probably the first time in the entire history of the country that a child's outfit was discussed and vetoed by the Council.

It was clear that Yukina didn't quite understand that kind of attention. How could she? At first it was simple, all infants think they're the center of the universe. But now Yukina was getting older, and soon she would start making dangerous questions. Questions Rui didn't want to answer, questions she didn't know the answer to, questions that might shatter Rui's heart, and Yukina's, and perhaps even the frozen soil the Ice Maidens stepped on.

Rui opened the white door to the "sun room" and discreetly peeked inside. The first thing she saw was the tiny bluish hiruiseki on the pillow, glinting softly under the moonlight. Yukina and Riko cuddled sweetly to each other under the bedcovers, and the younger girl had a joyful smile on her cute little face.

Yukina, on the other hand, had a slight frown curving her thin eyebrows, and Rui wondered if a nightmare disturbed her sleep. What kind of threat would scare you, my little snow flower? I know you don't fear the same dangers I do...

Blurry memories crushed her throat as she watched the two girls and the teargem twinkling in the dark. A beautiful smile, so much like Yukina's, and greenish gray eyes giggling at an infant Rui, who trembled in both terror and thrill at the fabulous tale whispered in her ear by her younger best friend...

Rui wrapped her arms around her own body, and waited for the tears to come. They didn't. She hadn't shed a single tear since Yukina was born. She had to be an example, didn't she?

The being who called himself "Akaishi" uncurled from his balled-up sleep position, his dark-red eyes flicking around warily. He'd staggered into the sheltered cave, too woozy and confused to note his surroundings properly, only that it was, as the girl had said, securely warded. Now he was able to see the neat signs of habitation: a well-used mortar and pestle, dried herbs, anatomical charts detailing correct ki flow, and yes, food. He hadn't wanted to sully her neat sleeping area, so he'd curled up in a corner, hoping not to damage anything by his presence.

From force of habit, he stayed at the perimeter of the room, moving cautiously from corner to corner like a cat, his eyes continually scanning for potential dangers. There was a fresh, clean smell to the place; it had obviously been lovingly cared for. Sharp, yet pleasant odors stung his nose from various herbs and medicinals, some of which could not have been easy to obtain in the frigid country. Also the familiar, delicious smell of pine nuts, but -- he sniffed again -- no trace of wood or any other kind of smoke. And no trace of a fire pit. Strange. Most youkai loved their barbecue.

But this land, he reminded himself sharply, was not the territory of ordinary youkai.

He made his way to a second room, this one much smaller, but lit by the filtered daylight that streamed in through a high window. Akaishi noticed what seemed like odd patterns on the walls. Intrigued, he stepped closer to inspect them. The sinuous, monochromatic patterns intertwined dizzily, neither entirely abstract nor entirely realistic. As he looked more carefully, they resolved into serpent-like beings. Their gem-set eyes (if they indeed had eyes) glittered in refracted sparkles.

Wonderingly, he traced the designs with a light finger. The first, and most abstract, was the largest, encompassing almost the entire circular room with its body. Another zigzagged wildly from the floor to somewhere above Akaishi's head, about as high as he could reach. And another....

Another curled up in a spiral, far away from the other designs. Unlike the others, it had no eyes.

Akaishi looked more closely at the inlaid stones. Then he tugged at his collar, untangling a fine blue strand of what looked like thread. He lifted it carefully over his head, and looked at the tiny round crystal suspended from it.

He compared the two. To the naked eye, identical.

Akaishi nodded to himself. He started to put his own jewel in the lone spiral, then took his hand away. He sat down in the middle of the room, closed his eyes, and held the crystal to the gash on his forehead.

With a stifled gasp, Akaishi wrenched the jewel away and replaced it under his shirt. His control was still poor, and he still had trouble knowing when to cut the visions off before they began to overload him. But he was getting closer to his goal, painfully, step by step.

And when he got there, he could reclaim what he most held dear.

His soul.

"Yukina! Yukina!"

The young ice maiden whirled to see her teacher swiftly approach with a frown on her face. "Yes, Azora-sensei?"

"Have you finished rolling the bandages yet?" If not, her tone implied, why are you skylarking out here?

"Yes. I put them on your desk not half an hour ago."

"Good. You can copy these lists for me, then."

Yukina went inside with the sheets as another woman caught up with her. "Why do I have the feeling that you're giving the girl busywork?"

"I'm not. These things are all necessary to do, and do well, if she's to be a healer." Azora lowered her voice. "But yes, I want to keep her occupied. I don't like the idea of her running off by herself the way she does. Who knows what she might meet out there? She spends too much time handfeeding her little animal friends as it is."

"A healer needs to have a good heart."

"I know. But she needs to have a clear head, as well. She's too emotional. Too...kind. She doesn't have the necessary distance yet. But what did you want to see me about, Kiri?"

"I don't want to see you. But the Elders do. They have some questions about your pupil."

Azora's eyes narrowed tiredly. "Again?"

Kiri simply shrugged. She wouldn't go over that again. More times than they could remember Kiri had listed all the many reasons why it would have been wiser to stay away from the harlot's daughter. Out of a good heart and a clear head, Azora often seemed to lack the latter.

"The Elders should spare some of their worry to when she's old enough to give birth," Azora smirked. "As annoying as the kid can be, it's unlikely that she'll cause more havoc now than spilling all my potions on the floor in one of her silly jigs."

"You never know," the other replied somberly. "I certainly don't doubt the Elders judgment. But sometimes I wonder..."

Azora folded her arms, knowing too well the bleak contents of Kiri's speculations; they had argued about that time and again. Yukina might have Hina's vile blood in her veins, but she's one of our kind. I wouldn't have agreed to teach her if I weren't positive about this. "In any case, I don't envy Rui," she admitted. "She's probably interrogated every day about her charge."

"At least we can trust Rui to do the right thing if matters get out of hand..."

Yes, we can, can't we? Azora pursed her lips. "I guess I shouldn't let the Elders waiting. Talk to you later."

"Do you want me to keep an eye on her while you're gone?" Kiri offered.

"Don't worry. I don't have anything new to tell them since last interview, it won't take long." Azora grinned sarcastically. "I'm sure the Glacier won't fall if we leave her working by herself for twenty minutes."

Yukina didn't have to look at the sheets Azora-sensei gave her to write the copies. Those lists described the ingredients and spells to create basic potions, the ones she had learned during her first year of studies; she knew them by heart. Why would her teacher need copies of them?

Stricken by a sudden spurt of impatience, the girl paid less attention to her calligraphy than she usually did, and finished the task in a couple of minutes. The sensei wouldn't be happy about it. Neither would Rui. Her tutor had preached categorically that she should obey Azora-sensei's every order and never question her teachings. But I know this spells already, and I need to find a way of healing Akaishi. He was hurting so much! Sure Rui would understand that.

Of course, Yukina declined from testing this assumption when she didn't tell her guardian about the encounter with the male in the forest. She was going to, but when she got home Rui received her with a mild reproach for misplacing her toys and the embarrassment had muted her story. It felt wrong to hide things from Rui, but for the last months Yukina started noticing some puzzling silence from the guardian, and the girl realized a whole bunch of things were being hidden from her too. At least we're kind of even now...

Riko-chan gaped in surprise every time Yukina would refer to her guardian like that. Riko's mother was a loquacious woman, but very stern about treatment towards elders and hierarchical superiors. The laconic Rui, on the other hand, never demanded the -san suffix and, away from other koorimes' eyes, seldom used the mother-like tone towards her. No wonder the girl felt so bad when Rui got mad enough to scold her, as she had done the day before.

She's upset about something, Yukina sighed. If I tell her about Akaishi, she'll get even more upset... and I don't want that.

The girl gazed thoughtfully at the books and jars on the shelves, wondering where she could find a cure for Akaishi's suffering. There was something about the cut on his forehead, she had no doubt about it. But the male had said the gash was exactly how it should be...

"He lied," she said aloud, wanting to hear how the words would sound to her ears.

Not too good.

He didn't lie, Yukina concluded. Not quite. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be, not if it was making him hurt. But maybe he wanted it to be that way.

"But why would anyone wish to hurt?" she asked helplessly to the shelves. She had felt the alarming sorrow and self-hatred tainting his aura, and only the memory of those feelings made her want to lie down under her bedcovers, snuggle her feathery pillow and cry. That urge she had sensed in him was beyond her comprehension.

Climbing a short ladder, she started rummaging through the shelves, without a clue about what she was looking for. Flipping the moldy pages of her teacher's books, she tried to delineate Akaishi's face in her mind and remember the aspect of the skin around the gash... but the picture got mixed with cloudy images of a blind dragon grinning in amusement at her. Yukina blinked and tried to focus on the male stranger once more, getting no better results.

Moving to an upper shelf, she wondered if the dragon's smile was genuine or sarcastic, and if that vision could somehow be added to the tale she always told her little best friend. Riko-chan doesn't like me to change it though, Yukina remembered, moving the potion jars aside to check the books behind them. What would she have said if she had stayed awake to hear about the fourth dragon last night?

She had to stretch to reach the last book in the upper corner, a heavy tome about bleeding and the many spells and special bandages that should be used to each kind of wound. Yukina couldn't think of a way of making that knowledge useful, since the one thing she had clear in her mind was the lack of blood gushing from the cut on Akaishi's brow, but with a weary effort she opened it nonetheless.

However, she was already hanging somewhat precariously from the ladder, and her short arms failed to handle the tome's weight. Quickly grasping one of the shelves for support, Yukina managed to avoid what would certainly be a hurtful fall, but the book collapsed with a loud thump on the floor, spreading dozens of small handwritten notes all over the place.

Moaning to herself, the girl came down and started cleaning the mess, hoping with all her heart that Azora-sensei wouldn't choose that moment to arrive. Yukina looked in dismay at the notes. Her teacher used to write alternative recipes for some of the potions and keep them between the pages that described the original ones. How was she going to find out the right page to each note? But if she didn't, the sensei would learn about her indiscretion by the first time she opened that book...

But wait...

Yukina knew Azora's handwriting pretty well. So there was no mistake about the identity of the writer of those notes... except for one. And this is not a potion, she realized in puzzlement.

It was a short letter, written in a hasty calligraphy, hastier than Yukina's in the copies of the lists Azora-sensei gave her. There was no signature; the handwriting seemed remotely familiar but she couldn't tell who the author was. Feeling her heart throbbing in her chest, Yukina read it in fidgety whispers.

Yukina's jaw dropped as she reread the letter. Akaishi! Her Akaishi? Even if the names were a coincidence, why should a letter to Yukina's foster-mother be hidden among the papers of Yukina's teacher? As far as she knew, the two women weren't particularly close, though they respected each other. Could Sensei have hidden the letter at Rui's request? And if so, why? Or could she have stolen the letter? Again, if so, what possible motive could she have for such a thing? Koorime, in general, prided themselves on their scrupulous, fierce honesty. The clarity and cutting purity of their patron element forbade lying and deception among themselves.

Or so Yukina had always been taught.

She sat back on her heels, biting her lip in concentration. First, to try and repair the damage. She took a deep breath to calm her tension and fear, then began painstakingly matching Azora-sensei's alternate remedies with the manuscript pages. If she hadn't been so nervous, she would have enjoyed the chance to take a close look at a master healer's recorded techniques. As it was, she could only take a cursory glance at the listings: treatments for hemorrhages after childbirth, for injuries from enchanted weapons, and, unheard of in Yukina's limited experience, remedies for flame-based magical attacks and poisonous plants.

Fortune, or perhaps her dragons, were with her, and she had time to at least approximate where each stray note should go. But that last, enigmatic note... what should she do about that? Realizing that time was probably running out and she'd been lucky to have as much time to herself as she'd had, Yukina finally folded the note with shaking fingers and slipped it securely in her belt pouch. She climbed back up the ladder and shoved the book firmly back into place. With luck, Sensei wouldn't have cause to use it for awhile, anyway.

Meanwhile, Azora was quite preoccupied with worries of her own.

She bowed respectfully before the panel of Elders, each sitting at the long table with identical stern expressions on their cold, beautiful faces.

"Master Healer," one of them began without preamble, "what, in your opinion, is the greatest danger which faces the Koorime people?"

There were several possible responses to this. Azora chose the most orthodox. "Outside influences. Change." As she said it, she felt dissatisfied. Stability was a key Koorime virtue, to be sure, but she knew perfectly well that without the very discreet trading networks that operated, her own knowledge and supplies would be more limited than they were.

To her surprise, the Elder frowned and shook her head. "This is, of course, a very real danger. However, I would say that our imminent destruction is of even greater concern. We struggle to keep our society pure and undefiled, as is right. However, there are... realities... which you yourself cannot be ignorant of."

Azora bowed her head. "Yes, Elder."

"We strive, above all, to maintain the balance between our treasured isolation and permitting such necessities as can be only obtained from exterior sources. Against our will, and to her shame, one of our own was contaminated by the world outside the Homeland. You know what happened subsequently. The alien influence was driven out, and what remained has been carefully scoured of the taint." The Elder looked sharply at Azora, blue eyes piercing. "And you have played your own part in this. Yes?"

"I have trained my student in the ways of proper orthodoxy and in the healing lessons that have been suitable for her age and," Azora faltered almost imperceptibly, "special status. She has been an extraordinarily apt pupil. If I may say so, she has a special knack for healing that only appears once in a few generations."

"Can you say how or where she came by this ability?"

"I could not speculate on this matter with the few facts I have available to me," Azora said carefully. "I would say that she has a strong innate gift for channeling ki energy, and that it has so far manifested itself in healing, rather than martial, aspects. She has a great deal of compassion,"--one of the Elders snorted at that--"and has a maternal nature which manifests itself in caring for small animals and for the younger girls. She is not at all stupid and has a quick and inventive mind. She can be somewhat scattered, sometimes acting more on impulse than is appropriate, but that is not uncommon for her age and I have worked on the assumption that she will outgrow this as she matures."

"Does she feel the need to wander?"

Damn. She really hadn't wanted this question. "She is adept at woodcraft, and has, at times, ventured below the timberline to gather materials and help me with research which cannot be carried out in its entirety here. The area we have worked in is isolated and there is very little chance of coming across outside influences."

"But there is still a chance."

Azora swallowed. "Yes, there is."

"Does she appear to seek out the chance to escape?"

"Yukina is very obedient. She never has broken my instructions or refused to come with me on our expeditions. Nor," she added hastily, "has Yukina run away from me on these occasions." I may have left her to herself more often than perhaps was advisable, she admitted to herself grimly. She was not about to admit her qualms to the Council.

"Does the advantage to her studies outweigh the possible disadvantages to these less than orthodox training trips of yours?" another Elder, who had previously been silent, asked sharply.

"In my opinion as a healer and her instructor, yes. And the Council itself has admonished me to give her as complete a grounding in my profession as possible, given that she shows great promise of reaching or surpassing my own skills in time." That was a good thing, Azora told herself. The village could use another healer besides herself. She firmly suppressed the flare of jealousy she felt as she spoke.

"Make no mistake, Master Healer. Yukina holds great promise. She is to be brought up as a Koorime, to be used as we see fit. If she keeps to the proper path, all will be well. But she holds the potential for great danger as well, to us and to all the Koorime People. She is a tool, a finely crafted one, and like all weapons, can slip in our hands and cut us to the bone if not handled properly. If she proves flawed, she will be destroyed." The Elder stared icily at Azora. "And we have no reason to trust a healer, of whatever status, who can not or will not train and discipline our greatest device to perform at its best and highest capacity."

A long silence as Azora lowered her eyes before the Council.

"You are dismissed."

The healer bowed, as protocol required, and spun on her heels, slowly moving towards the door and refraining from the urge to try to catch a glimpse of Rui. Azora knew quite well that Yukina's guardian would be standing close to the wall on the right corner, and that she had heard all this with her customary blank expression on her face. Only once had Azora entered the Council room and found Rui's place empty, and at the time many had whispered worriedly or wickedly about an impending disavowal of the trainee. Whispers that were muted unequivocally a few days after by that unforgettable meeting that celebrated Rui as the worthy and loyal Koorime everyone honored her for now, the best candidate in centuries to a place in the Elders Council.

Azora couldn't help being curious about what would be Rui's reaction to the tense inquiry that had just been adjourned. But feeling the weight of the Elders' eyes on her back, she kept her gaze down until she was safely out of the room.

The interview had been brief, like she had predicted to Kiri. But there was something new there, although she couldn't pinpoint what. A sense of urgency? Never before had the questioning been so straightforward, so frankly suspicious. Never before had the Elders been so obvious about their plans regarding Yukina. And never before had they been so blunt in threatening Azora with distrust if she failed. Such crudeness was not the Council's usual ways.

Swallowing the insult of being doubted, she walked back home unhurriedly, meditating about the Elders' words. Few koorime outside the Council knew about the reality mentioned in the beginning of the interview, and only the Elders could tell -- and wouldn't -- how it was managed. Admitting the need of dealings with the exterior world wasn't something the Council would show any ease to do, proud as all the Ice Maidens were of their autonomy. Only the fact that it was mentioned was relevant.

She wondered warily if she had sounded too defensive of her pupil. Azora had her own set of plans for the girl, of course, but some of the Elders were paranoid enough to see fire sparks inside massive ice blocks. They had never doubted her word so far -- or as far as she knew -- but as Yukina grew up so did the subtle turmoil in the Ice Maidens' spirits. If they were already daring to question her capacity to discipline the little girl, how long since they started doubting her honor as well?

Azora shook those thoughts away, pursing her lips. Letting Kiri's gloomy auguries get the best of her wouldn't help now.

Being Yukina's sensei was both a privilege and a temerity, not only because of her talents and the Council's watchfulness. It offered her a distinctive position in the community, as if she walked on the frozen ground escorted by the most ferocious griffin. The other koorime respected her for the control she exerted over that potential menace, did their best to be on her good side so their interests would also be protected. But they also carried the unbearable fear that the terrible beast might surpass her control and turn back against her and all those who supported her. Azora was very aware that all the smiles and kind favors she received today would become the coldest indifference and criticism if she revealed any difficulty in keeping the little girl in short reins.

Kiri often commented how curious it was that Rui, as Yukina's official guardian, wasn't benefited with the same treatment. No one would dare cross Rui's way, of course; no one was foolish enough to risk displeasing both the little potential menace and the Council. But since Yukina's birth Azora never witnessed any real attempt of winning Rui's sympathy or friendship. Only the Elders evoked from the Ice Maidens a stronger sense of awe and respect, but not even the crankiest of the Wise Ones lived as alone and detached as Rui did.

A puzzling trait, Kiri called it. And not to disturb her friend, Azora silenced her chuckle at such naïveté. There wasn't anything curious or puzzling about the way the koorime frowned on the one who was allegedly their greatest pride. Between the heart and the kingdom, Rui had made the right choice, the only admissible choice in that floating island of ice and hauteur. And no one doubted that her options would still be the same if she met the need of choosing again.

Therefore while her position was enviable, her heart was dismissed. The maze Kiri failed to face earnestly was that Rui's decision had made her too trustworthy to be a good companion. Who would dare making confidences to one who would readily denounce her dearest friend to the Council? Who would willingly expose her soul and little sins to the one who had chose the purity over the mundane so vehemently? Who would wish to be judged by the one who had proved to be just as demanding as the very Code that guided the koorime through existence?

That was one of the peculiar truths about the Glacier that Azora understood perfectly but could never mention. Not to Kiri, not to anyone. It was one of the secrets the Ice Maidens kept so tightly hidden that not even the ones who instinctively knew it would acknowledge it. The values that granted Rui her position couldn't be questioned. Period.

Out of habit, Azora bowed her head to hide her grin. That was the dangerous question indeed. The one question that would certainly destroy her plans -- and possibly her life as well --, the one that would force her to give an unacceptable answer. The one question the Council would never dare to ask her openly. Would Yukina be able to blind her eyes and intelligence to the peculiar truths of the Glacier? Was she, Azora, capable of teaching the harlot's daughter how to silence her giggling at the singularities of the Sacred Code? Was anyone capable of teaching her that?

"She shows great promise of reaching or surpassing my own skills in time," she had told the Council. She had no doubts about Yukina's talents as a healer. As for the rest, the part that no Koorime could mention, she held only optimistic hopes. The girl had indeed the potential to transcend the solid darkness Azora, Azora's teacher, her teacher's teacher and the one who had taught her had been cursed to live in as moral and understanding clashed inside their hearts. But the future was clouded.

Secretly, Azora expected that her little apprentice would indeed bring an era to an end. Not by the dreadful calamities the Elders dreaded. She simply hoped that Yukina would become the first Koorime healer in ages not to be a complete cynic.

Yukina knelt outside her house, idly patting the snow into loose mounds. She molded two snowballs together for a body and head, thought a bit, and put a bit more on the "head" to stretch out two long ears. A little pouf on the end of the body for a tail, a few dots and scratches for eyes and mouth.

Cute. But not really what she wanted, Yukina decided. She stared blankly at it for a few moments. It would never nibble food out of her hand or hop nervously up to her, ears and nose twitching. It wouldn't lie on her lap, ears flat and relaxed as she stroked it.

Ice.

"What's that, 'Kina?"

The older girl glanced up at Riko and smiled, patting the ground next to her in an invitation to sit down. "It's a rabbit," she explained.

"Oh." Riko shyly reached out to pet the little snow sculpture. "What's a rabbit?" she asked after a moment.

"It's a small animal that lives 'way far away."

"Like a dragon?" Both girls automatically glanced around, but no one else was in sight.

"Kind of. But they're shy and go 'hop hop hop'. Then they run really, really fast when they get scared. I tripped and fell trying to talk to one and it ran away so fast I couldn't even see its legs."

Riko's eyes rounded with amazement. "You really saw one?" she asked in a hushed tone.

Yukina hung her head. "I wasn't supposed to mention it to anyone. I forgot."

"It's pretty," Riko said.

The other girl nodded. "I got to hold one once. I think it wasn't very old and didn't know it was supposed to be afraid of me. I gave her some food and she sat on my lap and let me pet her." She closed her eyes. "Her fur was sooo soft. And," she leaned over to whisper in Riko's ear, "she was warm all over."

The little girl jerked back in disgust. "Eww! Warm?"

"I know it sounds nasty, but she really wasn't bad. But Sensei yelled at me. She said I shouldn't be encouraging the rabbit to hang around me, it needed to survive on its own." Yukina sighed. "She's right, I know."

"I think that was mean of Sensei," Riko said seriously. "The rabbit wasn't hurting anybody, even if she was all icky and...warm. You really liked touching her?" She shuddered.

"Yes I did," said Yukina. "But I doubt I'll ever see her again. So I made this sculpture so I wouldn't forget. I shouldn't leave it here, though." She hastily dismantled her crude "rabbit", smoothing the remaining snow out with Riko's help.

As they finished, Riko whispered, "I wanna see a rabbit someday. And a dragon. Why don't they live where I can see them?"

"I think it's too cold for them," Yukina said hesitantly. "Or maybe they're too scared of lots of people."

The younger girl stared out into the distance, her small jaw firmly set. "Then someday I'm gonna go out and see them myself."

"Shh, Riko! Don't ever say that!"

"I KNOW," the little girl insisted, frustrated. "But I do." She abruptly swiveled her head to focus on Yukina. "Don't you?"

Yukina's shoulders slumped. "Yes. Yes I do."

"A healer needs to have a good heart."

That had been Narieko's favorite quote, and Narieko had been one of the most devoted and dependable healers the Glacier had ever seen.

At least, that was Kiri's opinion.

Narieko had been cordial to her patients, friendly to her neighbors, humble in the presence of the Elders, serene under all circumstances. She had been skilful -- if not the most skilful --, but she didn't fear toil and she would never give up on anyone until the very last moment. She had been, to Kiri's eyes, nothing short of perfection.

But few would heed Kiri's opinion on that subject. Objectiveness and impartiality aren't expected from a daughter describing her mother.

Since she had learned to walk, Kiri had followed her kaasan around, observing her gestures, listening to her voice, memorizing all she could in order to become as competent a healer, and as dignified a woman, as gentle Narieko. But nature, pitiless and unchangeable, had denied her the necessary talent to follow her mother's footsteps. Dreams and aspirations weren't enough. Kiri had tried to copy the heart, but her hands were not of a healer's, did not wield the power to cure.

The disappointment was brutal, but brief. Kiri wasn't one to dwell on lost hopes, and her mother had never looked down on her for her lack of potential. And when Narieko chose the one to become her successor, no space in Kiri's spirit was left for sadness.

Why she had never felt any jealousy of Azora, she couldn't explain. Although they weren't exactly close -- for there was a great age difference between them and healing studies demanded most of Azora's time and attention --, Kiri had welcomed her as a sister, and had celebrated her successes with pride and genuine joy. Narieko's teachings and devotion would live on in her pupil, and for that Kiri would be eternally grateful.

However, Azora hadn't grown into a new Narieko.

The harlot's daughter... What could have possessed Azora to make her choose Yukina as her apprentice?

One of us. The Elders say the girl's one of our own. And she wouldn't dispute the word of the Elders.

The sentence would return to Kiri's mind over and over, but never be completed. She did not have the talent, she did not understand the workings of nature, she did not feel entitled to judge. Narieko's legacy wasn't hers to decide its fate.

Loosening the straps in her hair, Kiri kneeled beside the chest near her bedroom window and opened the lid. As tradition demanded, most of her mother's belongings had been handed to Azora, who in turn had given Narieko's daughters permission to choose a handful of objects they'd like to keep for themselves. Kiri had saved her mother's favorite kimono, and nothing else. It was for that old piece of grayish lavender cloth she reached out now, seeking for the kind of comfort she couldn't find anywhere else.

The perfume of the deceased healer had been long gone now, replaced by the acrid scent of naphthalene. The fabric was hopelessly ragged, torn where the right sleeve met the shoulder, and the lovely pattern on the back had faded almost completely. Kiri cuddled the kimono and the memories it evoked in her mind, wishing as she wished every day that she could do something...

Kiri had no right to tell her off. It was a sign of great courtesy that Azora would let her speak out her thoughts concerning Yukina, a gesture of distinction. Or maybe of indulgence to her teacher's silly daughter. Azora lets me speak but never listens... She looks at me as if she could see beyond me, beyond the Glacier... but she's too practical, too logical to see things clearly... too pragmatic to know what she's doing...

A shadow fell over her face and her breath caught in her throat.

Someone was there.

Right behind her.

Someone... uninvited.

She turned her head so quickly it made her dizzy. A dark blur crossed her vision, but when she blinked, she was alone.

Alone?

Her heart throbbed madly, deafeningly. Her hands shook in terror. It was gone now, whatever it was, but it had been there, less than two feet away from her, and its ominous threat was still as palpable as the poor fabric her fingers had just ripped apart in a spasm of fear.

Kiri didn't know.

Rolling the kimono in a rumpled ball, she dropped it back inside the chest and got on her feet, wondering whom she should call, whom she should warn and ask to come. The Elders had to be informed, but she couldn't go directly to them, not like this, she had to ask for someone to be her emissary, someone she trusted, someone that wouldn't laugh at her instincts. She leaned over to close the lid...

Only then did she notice.

The kimono was the only thing left inside the chest. The small wooden box Kiri used to keep hidden under the old fabric was gone.

Her legs gave way.

Kiri couldn't call or warn anyone now. Something dark and dangerous was lurking by, and she couldn't mention it to a single soul.