The Awakening Read Online Free PDF

herself torn between a need to hear more and a fear of learning too much.
    She lay in her narrow cot staring at the ceiling above her head, a ceiling that she knew so well, a ceiling that had been her companion through many a long, dark night. She knew every crack, every line, every spider web like an old friend. Each time a new mark appeared on that ceiling, Hwenfayre felt as though her family had grown. But this night as she considered it, the ceiling was as new to her as though she had never seen it before. Each mark took on a new meaning, each crack was a wave, each line a trailing, windblown stream of spray. Hwenfayre was drifting, losing herself in the endless tides of her memory. She allowed herself once more to wander through the distant paths of her secret reminiscences.
    It had been a good day and she left home on an errand for her mother after spending time with her while she worked with the other women. Despite her mother’s bitterness about her status, she did have friends among the women of the town.
    She skipped happily along the narrow alley thinking of the good times ahead when a hard shove caught her unawares, sending her to the ground. She fell heavily and cried out in pain. Despite the often happy times she spent with her mother and some of the women of the town, her differences were marked enough to make her a target for taunts from some of the boys of the small town.
    The scrape on her knee bled freely; the bright red trail trickling down her shin, making its way past old scars and half-healed wounds. She looked up past her tangled white-blonde hair at her tormentor. He was a big solid boy, a year her junior and half as big again as she. His thick black hair and dark skin marked him as a local boy, born and bred to the life here in a frontier town. He, together with two or three fellows, had come upon her in ambush.
    The taunts were nothing new, just the usual—‘whore child’, ‘white freak’, ‘witch’—nothing to worry her; she’d heard worse. What made this day different was the new boy. Something in his eyes made Hwenfayre flinch. Never had she seen such naked hatred. He had the look of the vicious bully, the cornered cur, about him. He bunched his fist and drew it back. The other boys urged him on, clapping and yelling.
    ‘What’s this?’ A heavy hand grabbed the fist as it started down towards Hwenfayre’s face and a deep voice cut across the boyish cries. Startled, the bully turned to see a pair of implacable eyes boring into him.
    ‘I think we can leave the girl alone, can’t we, boys?’ he said, not once taking his eyes from those of the bully. As if by magic, the others melted away, leaving only one of Hwenfayre’s tormentors, his hand still firmly clasped in the newcomer’s strong fist. He gave the boy a shake and released him. ‘Now, be off with you.’
    With a single backwards look, the boy scampered away down the dirty street, disappearing into the deep shadows that filled the Poor Quarter.
    After watching him flee, Hwenfayre turned to consider the man who had intervened for her. He was a tall man with strong features. He wore a traveller’s cloak, which was stained with the dust from the road. His boots were black and dusty and his clothes were sturdy and worn, but his face was kind and Hwenfayre felt strangely warmed when he smiled at her. His clear blue eyes sparkled as he held out his hand to help her to her feet. Reaching out, Hwenfayre took his proffered hand. It was warm and strong, with calluses on palm and fingers. He easily lifted the slight girl to her feet.
    ‘It’s Hwenfayre, isn’t it?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes. How did you know?’
    ‘It’s a long story. Come, let’s see to that knee. And I think you could do with a meal.’
    She looked up at him with surprise, but there was no guile in his eyes so she smiled and nodded. He did not release her hand as he started to walk away. Hwenfayre went with him, skipping along in an effort to keep up with his long