Memory Of A Better Time

All the thoughts of what the labourer could possibly do to her ran through her mind only to find him dead. In a horrific manner. Killed by a boar? No, it was a man in a boar's head. One who called himself The Preacher of The Creed. As he painted the image in blood on her forehead she winced slightly, it didn't hurt but even the idea of being touched by this man…this evil…made Islana cringe.

Now, marked for sacrifice, the young woman had no way to get out of it that she could think of. It was dark but other than that there wasn't a good sense of time, plus there was no way to tell how long she had been unconscious.

It was impossible to know if anyone knew she was missing. Her head still hurt and dwelling on such issues didn't help. So, to get her mind off the pain and her impending doom, the redhead did something she had learned to do, to cope with the beatings from Lord Vasant.

Closing her eyes, her mind drifted to the cabin in the woods, where she had lived with her family.

The day was bright and clear, Islana and her sister were busy making the stew for tonight's dinner. Her brother, Cathal, came in the door. He was about 14, tall, with blonde hair and due to the constant work outside and the use of a bow for hunting, meant he was already developing a muscular build.

"For the birthday girl," Handing Islana a bouquet of wildflowers found deeper in the woods than her today six year old self was allowed. The array of purples, reds, pinks, whites and greens were amazing.

"Oh, they are beautiful." Hugging her older brother with all the enthusiasm that a child could have.

"Let's get them some water," Islana heard her older sister say.

Aine was 10, also with long blonde hair. Islana was the only one who had been born with red hair. Aine pulled the cake out of the oven. They hadn't been able to afford flour but her sister had managed a cake of honey and seeds.

Aine gently took the flowers from Islana and placed them in a wooden cup with some water.

"Islana, come in here." Her father's deep voice could be heard from the sitting room.

The cabin was wooden, made of logs in various shades of brown. It had a kitchen big enough for a round table with chair, a wood burning stove, a few shelves which held mismatched wooden dishware, and some wooden spoons. Next room over her family jokingly called the sitting room as if they were in some fancy home. It had a few chairs and a table.

There were two bedrooms. Her father's and brothers and one loft room that her sister and she shared. Not exactly a shack but the only reason they had a home like this was her father had built it, along with almost all the wooden items they had in the house.

Islana came into the room not knowing what to expect. Her father wasn't a mean drunk but he was still a drunk. Angus Annora looked older than his years, the grey had overtaken his hair and he had lines which seemed to crease his face.

His 5'10" body was a frailer shade of what it had once been. The man sat in a chair and patted the chair in front of him. Islana took the seat in front of him. Angus wasn't drunk today though. Even at her young age Islana knew that.

"There is my birthday girl." Her father gave her a smile, something rare. "I have a present for you but you must promise to never take it off."

Islana nodded, having no idea what it was but just happy she was spending time with her father, with him like this, even if it wouldn't last.

"Open your hands and close your eyes," her father's instructions were carried out by the girl.

The feeling of something light and metal was placed into her hands. When she was told to open her eyes she did so, to her surprise, a necklace was in her hand. It had a small silverish bird attached to it. Her face lit it.

Her father spoke again, "It was your mother's. Your brother got the bow your mother used. Your sister got the bracelet with the leaf in it that had been your mother's. I thought you were old enough to get your own keepsake of her's."

"It is…." Being six and with no formal education couldn't come up with the words she was looking for. "I love it. Perfect. It's perfect." The gift meant a lot to her as she had no memory of her mother just stories but it also meant her father recognized that she was growing up.

It was one of those rare good days, before her brother died, before her father betrayed both her and her sister, before abusive Lords and murderous cults. It was one of those memories Islana had held on to for when things got really bad.

The young woman opened her eyes once again, the memory had only given her mind a brief reprieve from the current predicament she found herself in. Wanting to cry but not wanting to give the pig head man the satisfaction, a deep breath and her green eyes managed to hold back the tears.