Quilina's friend

"That's a lovely name," Mayra smiled at her. "Do you live nearby?"

"Yes, just over there," Quilina pointed behind her where a cottage was just visible through the thick trees.

"I would love to meet your family. I'm new in the area and love making friends," The young woman smiled at the girl.

"Ok," Quilina smiled and picked up her doll. "Come on!"

Mayra followed the girl, who was likely around 8 or 9, to the front door of the little house.

"Papa's away checking the field, but Mama should be here somewhere," Quilina explained. "Mama!"

A woman was leaning over a stove, and Mayra marveled at how similar this stone cottage was in some ways to the home she grew up in. It was drastically different than the huts that the Cetoans had built.

"Yes, Quil?" The woman turned toward them and then stood straight in surprise. "Oh! A visitor!"

Her gaze quickly assessed Mayra. Obviously not a threat, the young woman wasn't easy to figure out. Her clothes were not Cetoan, nor was her demeanor.

"Hello, I'm Mayra," The young woman introduced herself, "I'm visiting the Cetoans for a time, and thought it would be nice to meet some of the nearby people as well."

"Visiting? The Cetoans?" Quilina's mother asked in confusion. She'd obviously never heard of such a thing.

"Yes, I'm sort of from Klain," the younger woman explained, "but I'm here with women from Rhone that will become brides for Ceto."

"I see. My name is Jacqueline. I had been wondering how the Cetoans were going to solve their shortage of women. They had come asking some time ago if there were any unmarried women in the households around here." She glanced down at Quilina, clearly grateful her daughter was too young to have been considered for the proposition. 

"Lovely to meet you, Jacqueline."

"Won't you sit down?" The older woman startled as if she suddenly seemed to recall the duties of a hostess. Visitors must be extremely rare. "I have some bread, but not much else ready just now."

"That smells lovely!" Mayra complimented. "I love baking, but the Cetoans don't have any ovens that I have seen so far."

"They use a different sort, I believe. A kind of metal bowl with a heavy lid that they bury with coals. Once I acquired some of their bread in trade, and had occasion to ask about how it was made." Jacqueline placed some bread on a plate for the visitor.

"That's very interesting. I wonder how it's done." Mayra wondered to herself, but came quickly back to the present. "Do you see much of the Cetoans? I'm to help the new brides acclimate to the culture. If I may say so, you seem to live quite differently than they do."

"Yes," Jacqueline said. "Our family use to live much further North, in a farming village. We moved south after a feud split the village. Some stayed, and many of us moved here. The Cetoans do not accept or intermingle with us, but neither are they hostile as long as we stay back from the beaches and do not interfere with their matters."

"Fascinating," Mayra commented, "How many families moved with you?"

"Seven," came the reply, "We live near enough to help each other but far enough for privacy. When we have need, the Cetoans will reluctantly trade with us. I do not think them a cruel people."

"But almost none of the families have kids to play with," Quilina complained.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mayra commiserated, "Having a good playmate can be very important."

"Don't start with that, Quil," Her mother warned. The young woman shot the lady a curious glance, and received a sigh in response. "Since there aren't many children for her to play with, she's invented some."

"I have not!" Quilina stamped her foot.

"What does that mean?" Mayra didn't want to interfere, but truly didn't understand.

"You don't believe me, but it's true. Roy is my friend, and so is Tamas." The child continued.

"They're not real, honey," Jacqueline said more quietly, "It's past time for you to give up this childish pretending."

"They ARE real!" The girl's voice rose.

"Oh no, are we arguing about Roy again?" A low voice came from the doorway as a man stepped in. "Quil, we've talked about this. A boy in the woods who appears and disappears is not– Oh! Who's this?" The man stopped when he spotted Mayra sitting at the table.

"Papa!" Quilina jumped up to hug him, "I brought home a friend. She's real. Just like Roy and Tamas are real."

"You know Roy?" The man looked at the young woman, then at his wife.

"I'm afraid I don't know Roy," Mayra admitted. "I'm incredibly confused by all of this."

"Me too," He replied. "Who are you?"

"This is Mayra, she's visiting the Cetoans." Jacqueline provided.

"Who are Roy and Tamas?" Mayra asked, exasperated.

"Roy's my friend! My REAL friend who plays with me in the woods." Quilina was on the verge of a tantrum now.

"All right," Mayra tried to humor the girl. "May I meet him?"

"He doesn't like other people," The child became quieter.

"And Tamas?" The young woman continued in a soothing tone.

"Tamas only comes at night." Quilina looked frustrated.

"When are you out at night?" Jacqueline reproached her.

"Only once, last year, Roy took me out my window to meet Tamas, but now he can come in my dreams, or come to my room at night." The child realized she was losing the argument. "Only Tamas can come to my dreams, though. Roy can't do that."

"Let's change the subject," Jacqueline said, visibly upset by her daughter's insistence on the reality of her imaginary friends, and the mention of sneaking out at night. "How long are you going to stay with the Cetoans, Mayra? I hope my daughter's strange talk will not discourage you from visiting us in the future."

"Not at all!" Mayra smiled, in spite of her mild concern about Quilina. What a strange child. "I would be happy to come back if I am welcome. I believe I'll be staying weeks, maybe longer. It depends on how many brides come and how long it takes them to get settled in their new homes."

"What a noble thing," Jaqcueline smiled. "I hope they will be happy."

"Me too," Mayra suppressed a grimace. She didn't hold particularly high hopes for happiness coming from arranged marriages, but anything was possible.

"Are you in the forest alone?" Quilina's father asked her. "It's not dangerous, per se, but it may be easy for you to get lost."

"I was walking with… Actually, I better go and find them." Mayra realized how long it had been since she'd run off from Peter and Gordon. "If you see two men wandering around, tell them I went back to the settlement. I should go or they'll be worried."

"Thank you for coming," Jacqueline smiled.

"Come back and play soon," Quilina put in.

"I will!" Mayra promised, smiling at them broadly before slipping out the door.

She walked quickly back toward the direction settlement, which Jacqueline pointed out for her, listening for signs of the men she'd left behind.

Soon enough, she heard Peter calling for her.

"Here, Peter!" She called, and he came running into view.

The relief on his face filled her with guilt, but she puffed up with indignation at his next words.

"Where have you been? Why would you run off like that?" He exclaimed, taking her by the shoulders. "Of all the stupid things to do, what would I have told Riley if you'd gotten eaten by a mountain lion or something?"

"I'm not sure they have those here," Mayra replied coldly, "and I suppose you could have told Riley it was my own stupid fault."

"Like he would take that as an answer," Peter rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure he's aware that stupidity is one of my shortcomings," She shot back.

"Really? You're still on that?" He dropped his hands from her and turned away in exasperation, "Grow up, Mayra, it was one comment! A comment, by the way, that you proved correct when you run off without any sort of protection!"

"What a nice opinion you have of me," Mayra's voice dripped with sarcasm as she glared at him.

"You're being ridiculous, you know I think the world of you," He glared back at her, "You're just being ornery because I know you're not perfect. Nobody is! If you want someone to worship you and pretend you're faultless, let's go track down Gordon and let him know he won't have to wait for one of the Rhone women after all!"

Mayra stared at him, seething. She strongly resented the accusation that she was being ornery, but arguing about it would not help her case in the least. Why did she let Peter get under her skin so easily?

"Let's just get back, shall we?" She finally said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, let's." Peter responded.