Igrayne hears a crying squirrel
9th January 1103
Igrayne stirred fretfully. In her dream she was running after a tiny squirrel, its brown, bushy tail waving indignantly in the air like a fluffy flag. The squirrel has stolen some nuts from her, dark chestnuts which she had just finished roasting over a bright blue fire. Just as she was about to pop the mouthwatering treat into her mouth, a tiny clawed paw had swiped it from her. Now she was running, her blonde pigtails streaming out behind her, the landscape tilting under her feet.
She heard a sniffling cry. The squirrel turned to her and tears were running from its pokey, black eyes. It snuffled dramatically, taking a tiny bite from her chestnut leaving a neat crescent of teeth marks.
It was crying. Someone was crying.
She woke with a start, the room dark and chilly. Someone was crying. She struggled up into a sitting position.
It wasn’t a squirrel, it was Maire. Igrayne squinted into the darkness and could see her perched on the edge of the bed. She wiped her hand across her nose with a miserable snuffle and continued to softly sob.
Igrayne’s heart lurched. What had happened? Had someone else been killed? Who could it be if Maire was crying. What if it was Arran?
“Mairey sweet, what’s wrong?” she called softly, “has someone been hurt?”
A dreadful thought occurred to her, “are you hurt? Let me light a candle.”
She fumbled in the darkness, her hands sliding up the slender length of the waxy candle, her fingers plucking at the wick. The room flickered then brightened.
She rushed over to Maire’s side, eyes roving over her body looking for cuts and scratches, her hands carefully sliding over her friend’s scrawny limbs feeling for lumps. Maire continued to weep into her curled up fists.
“Maire love, please tell me what happened?” she murmured fretfully.
“It’s Kelgar.”
Oh God, not dear sweet Kelgar. Not him.
“Is he dead?” she choked.
“No… I wish he were that bastard” she squeaked, “he’s asked that Illewen to marry him. And she’s gone and said yes.”
“I thought he was for me,” she wailed tears trickling from her scrunched up eyes.
Relief washed over Igrayne. Nobody was hurt. She held Maire close, as the small girl hiccupped and sobbed, stroking her head, smoothing back her bristling hair.
When her weeping had subsided she squirmed out of Igrayne’s arms. She reached out a wondering hand to her friend.
“But Graney… yew know what this means don’t yew? Arran… he don’t have to marry Illewen no more.”
Igrayne struggled to process this thought. She had spent the last weeks trying so hard not to think of him and when she did reminding herself that he was not for her. And now. Now he really could be.
“He won’t forgive me,” she muttered.
She had treated him abominably. And he had trusted her. Cared for her. How could she go to him now? He would never want her.
“Yes he will Graney, he will. Yer a good girl. Yew just need to explain to him why yew did it,” Maire’s green eyes were shining in the darkness, wet with tears but full of determination, “Yew’ve got to go to him Graney. He is fer yew. He has to be. One of us has got to be happy otherwise it will just be too much fer me to bear.”
Igrayne nodded slowly, she would go to him and beg for forgiveness. It was all she could do.
Oh, but the look on his face.
“Grane, will yew sleep in my bed tonight. It’s so cold and I’m awful sad,” Maire whispered, her lower lip trembling.
“Well come on then, will yew put yer nightdress on,” Igrayne laid down on the narrow single bed.
“I don’t want to. It‘s too cold.”
Maire curled up beside her, resting her head on Igrayne’s arm. Maire’s body was warm and soft against her side and she smelt like the kitchen, woodfire smoke, grease and cooked meat. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, it was the smell that Igrayne had grown up with most of her life.
“Yew’ve got to promise me Grane. One of us has to be happy,” Maire murmured sleepily.
She pulled the blankets up over them, “Alright Maire, I promise.”
YAY MHALWAE!
Awwwww! Poor Maire… I guess she doesn’t know What Sort of Man Kelgar is. She needs to have a talk with Derbail: Never trust a man farther than you can throw him. But I love her for sparing a thought for her friend in spite of her own misery.
And GO IGRAYNE! Tomorrow morning! Do not delay! Is it cruel to hope that Igrayne and Arran Barran get things straightened out between them just before Illewen changes her mind about Kelgar… freeing Kelgar for Lyiss? *pretty please?*
But oh man how mortifying. “Sorry I was so cruel to you the other day… I was trying to make you not like me.” What if he says “It worked.” :-/
Forgot to mention… is there some significance to the squirrel dream? Hmm hmm…
Also: “One of has got to be happy…” I think you forgot an “us” in there. *pockets Mhalwae karma*
*points to first comment* I second that motion in regards to the relationships. Lothere, I have a feeling you’ll be spending that karma sooner rather than later.
About the dream, I’m just hoping the chestnut doesn’t equal Arran, because if there is a chestnut, then there must be a squirrel as well
Arran is a sensitive, caring soul, so I’m sure he’ll understand about the business with Illewen, yes?
Poor Maire
She’s right, there really aren’t any more bachelors. Although truth be told… I have an awful, random feeling that Mhalwae is going to have a surge in the widower population one of these days. God, I hope no one dies off any time soon 
Sorry I didn’t get as many updates out there as I wanted to. The internet availability wasn’t as good as I had hoped. But I’m back in Stockholm now so I should be back to posting regularly (though I have a gross cold so I’m hoping I can still write something comprehensible).
When I wrote it there wasn’t any significance to the dream but you never know, I might end up using it later on.
Thanks Lothere *deposits Mhalwae karma into piggybank*
I hate to do it Van, but someone is going to die in about a month of story time. After that the random deaths kick in and 1103 is going to be a toughy. In particular there is one character I am going to have trouble saying goodbye to but I can see how to work it into the storyline so…
Aww, Maire…
She’s totally right though. GO GET HIM, IGRAYNE! I just hope Arran hasn’t given up on her at this point. Also, I love how Maire calls her “Graney.” I’m really starting to get fond of that girl.
Ach, deaths!
I figured it was getting to be awhile without anyone kicking it, but I can’t think of anyone it wouldn’t be painful to say goodbye to. But so it goes, I suppose.
Not Cindra! Not Lochan! I think I could handle the deaths of almost anyone (even Radomir, if you can believe it) but somehow those two seem sacred.
(Even though Lochan’s death would be awesomely interesting in terms of the story.)
Awww
But yeah, I know what you mean with the random deaths. They do help considerably with stories with a ton of characters. Still dreading 1167 on my own front
Ohhhh man, I hope it’s not Lochan! Or Noah! Or Kelgar! Or Lisbet or Cordell (even though we never see them, I’ve loved those two from the beginning)! Or… anyone
If it’s Lochan I’ll…I’ll…
Well there’s nothing I can do really, but there will be wails and rending of garments. (Also I agree that Cindra is rather sacred as well, although I’d throw a bit of a fit if it were Harndall or Valeriya, as well. But if I picked two that were really sacred I think I’d choose Lochan and Cindra, myself.) But I feel like all of them have so much left to do and say!
Well, except for Isaura maybe. She’s a darling, but I fear her time is coming to a close.
I’m rather fond of Maire too Cassie. I think that girl has a lot of kickass potential, but also a lot of growing up to do.
Sorry Van, I know we haven’t seen Lisbet and Cordell for ages. The price they pay for being happy is less view time. They are going to come back into view this year though as things get massively shaken up.