Chapter Forty-Five

Cierra was unsure of what to make of the scene before her. In front of her sat Fer Benn in all his large and hairy presence, with a crow tapping her claws on the table next to him. In front of the bird sat a small goblet with a violet brew, unlike the tall amber filled steins in front of herself and her mentor.

What has my life become? Cierra wondered to herself. For some reason the absurdity of being married to a bird and that bird now tapping its foot impatiently on a table in front of her, broke Cierra more than anything else she had seen in the dream realms so far. She wanted to laugh but dared not to. Instead, she chewed on the inside of her cheeks. 'If I laugh now, I might never stop,' she thought to herself, 'and then I'll have to committed into whatever equals an insane asylum here.'

"Drink," Fer Benn said, rolling the 'r', "No one can see ya he'e bu' us."

The bird batted its wings at him, beady eyes staring him down.

"Come on, we don' have all day."

Cierra glanced from the man to the bird, both of them staring at each other. A minute later the bird stepped forward, dipping its beak in the purple liquid.

BOOM!

Cierra covered her eyes as a puff of tar black smoke filled the room.

THUMP! BANG!

There was a sound of metal hitting the floor, and the table itself jumped as something slammed down on it.

There was a moment of silence, and cautiously, Cierra opened one eye and then the other. Where the bird had once sat, there was now a woman clad in a black medieval style gown. Cierra had never seen anyone like her; her skin, paler than the whitest snow, seemed to shine in contrast to her raven locks and dress. Her hair, which fell to her waist, was half swept up, crow feathers stuck in a messy top bun.

In her hand was a polished branch full of knots, as though she had chosen it from the oldest, most twisted tree she could find. At the top end was the largest knot of all, easily the size of the woman's own head. On it was carved the tree on the castle, with its roots reaching up to its leaves.

"Ah, finally," The woman stretched out her arms, pushing out a chest Cierra now realized was quite prominent, "It feels like I've been stuck as a damn bird for decades."

Fer Benn snorted, "Prob'ly a good bi' longer dan we know."

"You two," Cierra took a breath, trying to organize her thoughts, "You two need to explain to me what all this," She waved her hand between the two of them, "is."

Nowhere in her carefully organized plans had she accounted for training being interrupted by her mentor's crow of a wife and as funny as it was, Cierra felt guilty sitting at this table when she could be learning something more useful, like how to fight. Never again did she want to feel as useless as she had with Freya's warrior women.

"Dis," Fer Benn clamped his hand down on the pale woman's shoulder, beaming from ear to ear, "Is me wife, Morganna."

"I don't need you to introduce me," She shook him off, glaring at him before looking coldly at the young girl, "And I certainly don't owe you," She spat the word 'you' at Cierra, "Any explanation as to who I am."

"I don't—," Cierra started, but already Morganna had moved on from her and was focused again on Fer Benn.

"We must talk," Morganna leveled a steady gaze at her husband, "How long have we been here? I tried to move between realms but—"

"Er, Mor, we shoul' talk abou' dis somewhere—," Fer Benn interrupted, shifting his gaze from his wife to Cierra and back again.

"I will speak about whatever I want whenever I want," Morganna's voice took on a dangerous edge, "Everything has changed. I want to know why, and I want to know now."

Cierra wasn't sure what to do or if she should do anything. She was certain she was intruding on a personal conversation, but half of her wanted to sit there and learn more about the dream realms and whatever was going on. The other half didn't want to bring any more attention to herself than necessary and standing up to leave might do just that.

"Ahem," A familiar voice called out from the entrance of the room, "Morganna, Fer Benn."

It was like time stopped for a moment as Goldie made her presence known.

"A Watcher?" Morganna's lip curled back, baring sharp canines, "What are you doing here?"

Watcher? Cierra looked between Goldie and Morganna. Where had she heard that term before? The bracelet on her arm grew warm. It had been Freya's flame that had told her to ask a watcher her questions from their meeting before. Cierra's eyes grew wide; did that mean this whole time she could ask Goldie? Even as soon as she thought of asking Goldie everything, she dismissed it.

She had asked the blind woman so many things in the past but hadn't learned very much. Her heart sunk in her chest. 'What was the likelihood she would tell me anything more now?' Cierra thought to herself. She was surprised to find that for some reason she felt hurt, as though she had been betrayed somehow.

"I entrusted something to Dagda, and I've come to collect her," Goldie replied calmly, stepping forward, "While you two work out your personal matters."

Fer Benn nodded, his mouth dipped down, looking guilty.

"The girl?," Morganna asked, "What does a Watcher want with a girl who can barely lift a sword?"

Morganna leaned over the table to get a better look at Cierra, eyes searching.

"She glows, yes, but not like Agnes Sampson or the Bathory woman," A brightness flickered in the pale woman's eyes, "Do you remember when Hel promised her eternal youth in return for all those villagers?"

Morganna paused, excitement leaving her face as quickly as it had visited. "What's so special about her?"