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3, Mist and Misgivings

At five o'clock in the morning the light creeping through the slatted windows was dim. Britta took a deep breath, feeling desolate and empty. She felt something pull on her gut and knew that something was using her, draining her of The Voice. She tried to pull a flame into her hand and only felt tired, none of its bursting light rushing to her finger tips.

It was not that she relied on her so-called 'magic', but without it, she felt empty. She could still sense her sister, but talking to her now would give her a headache, she knew, though it was about the only thing she knew about The Voice.

She had her sister had thought it was normal when they were little. Thankfully then people had assumed it was a game, now Diana ensured they kept it hidden. It was always there as a flame inside of Britta, and she needed only to reach out to it and draw it to the surface to use it. She wondered what would happen if she was free from her sister's disapproval and the chains of society – What could she do with her gift? But with the emptiness inside her, her curiosity with it would wake her sister, and although they were close and loved each other as sisters should, there were times Britta wanted to be alone and her own person rather than just Diana's shadow.

She pulled the blankets off, knowing sleep would continue to evade her, and shivered as the damp air hit her. It was cold, condensation would be running off the windows and beginning to eat away at the sills she and they had cleaned and repainted the day before. She pulled on her clothes, her shirt over her small frame, a skirt draped around her long legs. Everything still smelled like her gathering trip into the forest and made her long to go back.

She pulled her fingers through her long hair, wincing as it caught on the curls. She knew she was stupid to keep it so long, but refused to cut it in the vain hope that she might look like her mother. It went down past her waist and might be half as long again if it didn't fall into wild curls. She couldn't braid it like Diana could, but she would be back before her sister had even known she was gone, and nobody would see her until then.

Britta made her way to the window and pressed her hand to it. It came away dripping with moisture. She sighed quietly; at least it showed that it was warmer in the building than it was outside. She unlatched the window, wincing at the creak it made. Everyone slept on, so she pulled her shawl from its hook by the door, and leaped through the window onto the long, dewy grass outside. She took a moment to unhook her hair from the window latch and then began to idle around the Abbey grounds.

Absentmindedly, Britta made her way into the forest, following the pathway to the stream, wondering if she could check the blackberry vine. The leaves were wreathed in silver frost, but only lightly and the edges of the stream weren't frozen. Spring. Britta smiled.

She sat quietly by the bank for a while, pulling her shawl tightly over her shoulders and watching the silvery mist which swirled around her with each breath. Definitely still chilly.

Feeling more energetic, she walked back to the Abbey. Clambering up the wall, she balanced along the top. The grey stone would be hard on anyone else's feet but for her – as long as she walked lightly – it was fine. After following the course of the wall for a while, she reached the training grounds.

A tree stretched its branches over the wall. Britta grabbed hold of it, careful not to damage any of the leaves, and pulled herself up. Below her, came the shouts and grunts of the men training. She watched curiously for a time, as the silver metal of their swords sliced the air.

Britta? Where are you? Came Diana's voice suddenly. She must have just woken up. Britta felt a small prick of annoyance.

I'm coming, I just went out to the stream. She lied. Watching training was something no proper girl should do.