Chapter 6

Gwendolyn was at least three miles from the climbing rock and had been following the sun along the Valley River, when she realized she didn’t know where she was going. She knew she couldn’t risk looking for a road so close to Bartet. And, of course, she had no idea where a road was. She had seen a map only a handful of times in her life. She knew the main road out of town went north and south, and she was walking east.

Bartet had a small bookstore, which would also lend books to anyone who helped clean the store at least once a month. The shop owner was elderly, and her son was lazy. Gwendolyn’s parents had always allowed her to go to the shop, to get her into town and seen by young men. It also got her out of the house, which they made no secret of preferring. That shop had housed a sparse few books of history and geography, and though she had read them all, she only knew vaguely that there was a village east of Bartet by about seven miles where she might be able to stop for supplies. She could only hope that from there, someone would know how to get off The Floating Valley.

Though Gwendolyn had never left The Floating Valley, everyone knew there were only a small number of roads down to the rest of the country. The area was set upon a large plateau, surrounded on all sides with sharp, steep cliffs. The roads that did exist had been painstakingly created many years ago by the Royal Family of Imirene.

When she glanced up at the sky, searching for the sun through the thick tree branches, she saw that it was just around noon.

Hungry, she decided to stop for lunch. She propped her back against a large oak tree and opened her bag. Digging through it, she pulled out the hardtack crackers and cheese. She carefully carved a portion of cheese out for herself, taking no more than necessary.

“Meow,” came a curious and hopeful sound from Marelon, who had been strolling along beside her for some time, clearly uninterested in turning back. Gwendolyn was a little surprised he had come this far. She had been expecting him to get bored at some point, or scared. He was a fearsome mouser, but anything more than that and he turned very meek.

Giggling slightly, she sliced a smaller portion of cheese for him. He devoured it happily, making little chirping noises of contentment.

“Ah, Marelon,” she sighed. “I’m glad to have some company. Even if it is just a stupid cat,” she reached over as she spoke, petting his head gently. “Do you remember when I first found you?”

Marelon’s only answer was a slight increase to his purrs.

“Yeah, you were just a kitten. Horribly injured under one of our apple trees. It looked like you were attacked by a wyvern, even though they rarely would come so close to a town. But now look at you,” here she began to scratch under his chin, “alive, thriving, and barely showing any signs of it.” That much was true. Marelon was missing a bit of his left ear, and had a large scar across his stomach, but other than those markers, one would hardly know anything had happened to him. It had been three or four years, so his fur had grown back in, thick, and covered the smaller scars.

Her parents had almost put him down, but she had begged them not to. In the end, his friendly behavior had been the deciding factor, as the dogs loved him. Her father wasn’t one to deny his dogs anything, so Marelon was allowed to stay. Of course, it still cost Gwendolyn an agreement to cook dinner every night for three months. But as she looked at the little red cat purring next to her and knew it had been more than worth it.

Gwendolyn finished eating and refilled her waterskin at the nearby river. Marelon decided to curl up in a patch of sun. She sat herself down near him and closed her eyes, breathing in the first truly free air she’d ever experienced, or so she felt at that moment.

“This is bliss,” she murmured to Marelon without opening her eyes.

“Brrrp,” Marelon chirped sleepily.

The two sat in peaceful silence for a while, Gwendolyn wondering how her siblings were doing, and whether they would be okay without her.

Gwendolyn was not much for prayer, as her parents were no example of piety. But in that moment, she felt compelled to pray to The Five Gods for her siblings. Or at least for the younger ones. Each God, or Goddess, had their own ritual. She had, of course, the handcrafted markers for each one that all children are given at age six, when they’re expected to begin to understand the works of The Five Gods.

Eventually, glancing around at the materials available to her, Gwendolyn decided to pray to the Third Goddess, keeper of relationships, family, love and friendship.

Pulling out the little hexagonal marker of the Third Goddess, etched with the sacred eye, she began to gather the materials she would need to make her prayer. Most homes had shrines to the Gods, equipped with everything needed. The Fields family kept theirs in the basement. But since Gwendolyn was now on the run, she had no shrine.

She set out her waterskin, her Third Goddess marker, and she retrieved ten sticks. Using the ten sticks to build a tiny, miniature pyre, she used her tinder and flint to strike a small fire.

“Third Goddess, you keep in your heart a love for humanity so deep that you give of yourself to strengthen the bonds between us,” she began to intone. Every person in Imirene knew these opening lines. “For the fire that burns within you to bring humanity closer, I have lit this fire. And for the river of love we give and receive on your behalf, I extinguish it.”

Gwendolyn picked up the waterskin and doused the small flame, breathing in the scent of woodfire.

“I place your sacred symbol,” here she picked up the marker and held it skyward, “between the offering and I, to demonstrate that without you, there is neither flame of passion nor river of love. Thank you for your eternal gifts.”

A heavy silence filled Gwendolyn’s head, and even Marelon neither moved nor meowed, simply watching with curious eyes.

After a respectful amount of time, Gwendolyn prayed. “Third Goddess, watch over my siblings, especially the young ones. Without me, I do not know who will care for them. But please let it be someone kind. Let them grow to be strong, and brave, and compassionate. To find love, to make friends, and to remember me as fondly as I shall remember them.”

Gwendolyn moved to grasp her sacred marker, ending the prayer, but stopped. She whispered, “and if it isn’t too much trouble, let us meet again.” Then she grabbed the sacred symbol, breaking the connection to the Third Goddess, and ending the prayer. She sat, eyes closed and thinking of her siblings, for a long while.

After many sunshine filled minutes passed, Gwendolyn opened her eyes and shook her head slightly. She could ruminate on her troubles forever, but she knew she needed to go.

“Come on,” she said to Marelon. “We have to go.” Gwendolyn wanted to get to the town before suppertime, when her family would realize she wasn’t going to return. She re-filled her waterskin once again, then turned to the stubborn cat who had not moved.

She had no idea what they would do. Though she imagined they’d launch a search, given the lucrative deal they’d lose without her, it was almost equally likely they’d consider it a blessing that she was gone.

“Time to get up,” she said in an overly cheerful voice.

Marelon opened one eye, then closed it again.

“Marelon, do you want me to leave you to the bears?” She asked. “Or, maybe, scoop you up and put you back in the bag?”

Disgruntled, he stretched, taking his time before standing.

“Good boy,” she praised him, and they set off along the river once again, this time keeping the sun to their backs.