Upon her arrival, her clothes were in tatters, her hair was tangled and matted with burrs, leaves, and all manner of filth, and her body and face had not been washed, it seemed, in half a turn, perhaps more. She is painfully thin. Her ribs show plainly through her skin and her arms and legs look like mere sticks. Well fed and healthy, she would look lank. As it is she appears on the edge of starvation. Her cheeks are sunken, her eyes look overlarge in her pinched face.
Yet, for all this, one need only glance at her to see that she is a beautiful girl, a fact confirmed for us after a few of the women managed to get her bathed down at the river. Her hair is raven black and her eyes are brilliant green. Her skin is brown, and though the sunburn on her face tells me that she has been wandering in the wilderness for some time, I believe that the darkness of her skin comes naturally to her If I had to guess, I'd say that she, too, is Mettai.
For now, however, her appearance and even her ancestry are secondary. Some tragedy has befallen the child. I'm certain of it, and others among the elders agree. She doesn't cry. As far as we know, she's mute. She bears no sign of injury or abuse, save the scrapes and bruises one might expect a child so young to acquire while venturing alone in the wild. But there is something in her eyes, in the way she flinches away from any direct gaze. This girl has wraiths hovering at her shoulder.
The one thing she does do is eat, and it gladdens my heart to see it. Trenna started her on some thin broth, thinking it might take the girl some time to work up to more substantial fare. But she made quick work of the first bowl and then a second. We gave her bread then, and she devoured that as might a wolf We dare not give her anything more difficult than a bit of fowl, but for now that seems to content her Broth, bread, and fowl. At least we can sleep tonight knowing that we have done well by the girl, even if the rest of the world has not.
Trenna has offered to take the girl in, but with her three, and Branz away trading with the Fal'Borna, she has her hands full. She will sleep here tonight, and with time maybe she can communicate enough to help us find her way home.
Thunder Moon, thirteenth day of the waxing, 1147.
The girl slept late, as I suspected she would. I can only imagine how terrified she must have been at night in the wild, taking refuge in what shelter she could find, braving the storms that have just recently passed through the highlands. It makes me shudder just to think of it. No doubt it's been an age since last she had a decent night's sleep.
Needless to say, I did nothing to disturb her slumber. I lit a fire outside and took my breakfast in the cool morning air It's something I should do more often. How strange that this child should come into our lives, and in this very small way force me out of habits I didn't even know I'd acquired. How long has it been since I did something-anything-different? Too long, by the feel of it. I'm too young to have grown so set in my ways. It makes me wonder if the gods have some other purpose in sending this girl to Kirayde, aside from the obvious, of course: that of healing whatever wounds lurk in the mind of this poor creature.
She awoke a bit before midday and called out. I didn't recognize a word in her cry, but it was the first sound she had made since her arrival, and even as I hurried into the house, I took it as a sign of some progress. She was sitting up in her bed, looking around, as if she had no memory of how she had gotten there. Upon seeing me, however, she must have recalled some of yesterday's events, because she immediately calmed down, and actually favored me with a smile. It lasted just a moment, but again, it gave me some hope.
I asked her if she was hungry, and she nodded. Something else I've noticed about her-she says nothing, but she has no trouble hearing and understanding all that we say. This leads me to think that her silence is a response to all she's been through and that her voice will come back to her once she has had time to heal.
After she had eaten again as much as she had the night before, I sat her down outside on the stairs to the house and sat beside her I took her hand, which she suffered me to hold, and I looked her in the eye.
"You've been through a difficult time, haven't you?" I asked.
She shrank away from me, and even pulled her hand away. For a long time, she wouldn't even meet my gaze.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry for what you've been through, whatever it might be, and I'm sorry for asking you about ft. I should have begun differently." I waited for her to face me again. When she didn't, I went on anyway. "My name is S:ylpa," I said. "I told you that yesterday, but with all that happened, I thought maybe you had forgotten."
At that, she did turn, and after some hesitation, she shook her head. "You mean you remembered?" I said.
She smiled again and nodded.
"Well, I'm glad," I told her "Are you ready to tell me your name?" Her smile vanished, and she shook her head.
"Can you tell me where you're from?"
Again she shook her head.
"Is it that you don't remember?"
No, she indicated, that wasn't the problem.
"Can you not speak?"
She hesitated again, and then nodded, her face brightening. I knew right off that she was lying to me, but I didn't press the matter When she's ready to tell me these things she will. I'm more sure of that now than ever In the meantime, she spent the day as my companion, more like a dog than a girl to be sure, but a companion nevertheless. She came with me to the garden, and even helped me weed a bit, after I showed her what I wanted done. She helped me clean my clothes, needing so little instruction that I'm sure she had done as much before.
We ate a quiet supper and even before we'd finished, she was yawning, her eyes drooping as if she could barely keep herself awake. Still, she helped me clear the table and heated water for the dishes before I said that she should get herself to bed and that I would come to her presently to make certain that she was all right. By the time I did as I promised, she had fallen asleep.
Thunder Moon, fourteenth day of the waxing, 1147.
This day began much as yesterday did, with the girl crying out in fear at finding herself in a strange home. I wonder if she awakens from dark dreams, stark visions of whatever horrors have afflicted her I had hoped that the pleasant day we spent together might start to rid her of such terrors, but I realize now that I was foolish to think it possible. Such things take time.
And, as matters now stand, I realize that I have been fortunate to have made as much progress with her this day as I did. After we had eaten and were on our way to the garden, the girl actually spoke.
"I lied to you," she said suddenly, her eyes trained on the road as we walked. "I know." I tried to keep any rebuke from my voice, and I believe I succeeded.
"You knew?" she asked.
"Perhaps not for certain, but clearly you heard everything we said to you, and I had the sense at times that you wanted to speak, but were afraid."
She walked for some distance without answering, as if considering what I had said. At length, she looked at me again. "My name is Licaldi."