Treva's Children Read Online Free PDF Page B

started to pluck at her cloak, growing in strength as she journeyed higher.  Cold returned, a cold she had forgotten in the warmth of the valley.
    She paused for a moment and looked back at the blue glow surrounding Mistress.  If she would come no farther, then Talisa could leave.  Simply keep walking past the entrance to the valley and not come back.  She shook her head.  It was a foolish fancy.  Not only would she be foresworn, what of her people?  If she fled, what vengeance would Mistress wreak on the few who remained of those who had looked to Talisa for protection?  Would she fail them?  Could she?  If Talisa's service was the price of their safety, could she withhold it?
    Of course not.
    At the saddle between two peaks, the entrance to the valley, she saw a fierce storm beyond.  If Mistress forced her people out into that, they would never survive.  The storm, seen by the light in her hand, revealed even more that her fancy of leaving was no more than illusion.
    She watched the storm for a moment, shivering, before the cold drove her to turn and stumble back down the slope where Mistress awaited her.
    "You have seen?" Mistress asked.
    "A fierce storm," Talisa said. "Cold, wind, snow."
    "Winter marches on outside Treva's garden," Mistress said. "Here, all is gentle, an early summer that never ends.  Springs and sufficient rain for the plants.  Animals eat plants.  Other animals eat those that eat plants so that they do not grow too numerous.  All is in balance. Times of flowering, and of birthing, are their own, not tied to the outer seasons.  Do you understand this?"
    "No, Mistress."
    Mistress nodded. "You will.  For now, your shelter is that way." She pointed with her staff. "Return to it and rest."

    That night, Talisa dreamed that she was a dog.  She whined, hungry.  The human pack leader was gone.  The humans had food.  Her mouth watered at the smell of fish, but no one gave her any.  As the last of the humans drifted off to sleep, she crouched low and slunk toward the fire.  The smell drew her.  A stick.  It smelled of fish.  She licked at it, then took it between her teeth and drew it back.
    She gnawed on the stick.  It smelled and tasted of fish and felt good between her teeth but it did not fill her belly.
    The wind shifted.  She lifted her muzzle and sniffed.
    Food.
    She crept out of the circle of humans, following the scent.  Slowly, silently, she crept.  There.  In the shadows, she spotted it.  A ground squirrel, nibbling on something.
    A quick dash and she sprang.  Her teeth closed on the squirrel's body.  It had time to squeal once before her teeth tore into its flesh.  Hot blood filled her mouth.
    Holding the squirrel carcass in her mouth she trotted into the underbrush.  She found a hollow under a bush and lay within it.  She pinned the body under her forepaws and rent at its fur with her teeth.  Soon she tore succulent flesh.
    The squirrel devoured, she laid her head on her paws and rested.  Still hungry, although her belly did not hurt so.  She sniffed.  Perhaps there was other food to find.

    And so Talisa's new life continued.  Each morning, Mistress sent her to the camp to give instruction to her people.  Afterward, Mistress instructed her on plants and animals. In the afternoon she labored.  Clay for the dam, so that it would hold water.  Bending the branches of a tree, without harming it, so that sunlight would reach a particular sapling.  Moving forest litter from this patch of ground to that.
    Ever at her side in her labors, Embron, the huntsman.  And always the dreams.  Each night something different, this night an owl, a rat for its meal; that night a mouse, barely avoiding an owl's talons.  Another time a deer, struck down by an arrow.  How strange to greet Embron the next morning, and accept a spit of venison for her breakfast.
    Outside the valley, the seasons progressed.  Winter gave way to spring, to summer.

    One day, after her labors