Two Crows Watch from the Gallows Tree (part 20)

Rana, usually more situationally aware of her surroundings, was completely oblivious to this encampment even as she followed the small creature nearly directly toward it.

The woman was the first to hear the crunching snow, and she looked up. One of her companions drew his weapon, a short knife.

The woman was in her early sixties and looked thin but fit, though most of her was covered by heavy clothing layers. Her long white hair hung down in a braid twisted with bits of string and leather.

Rana stopped short as the small creature stopped in front of the boots of...

She looked up with a start, and blinked at the people in front of her, eyes darting towards the blade. She stumbled backward in fright, eyes wide.

Who were these people? Why were they brandishing knives? Where the fuck was she? How did she get here? She put her hands out in front of her chest in a placating gesture, hoping the situation didn't escalate. "Uh... sorry?"

"Who are you?" the woman demanded in thickly accented Upper Tongue. "How do you come to be here?" She looked down in surprise at the pine marten, and one of her companions murmured a quiet prayer in Nortung.

"What is the meaning of this?" the other asked, looking with fear at the marten.

"Uh... uh..." Rana hesitated, eyes flicking around the people, down at the furry creature, then back at the woman. She only understood about half the words she asked, but she hoped she got the gist. "I... following..." She pointed at the small animal. "... Where am I?"

"Far from home," she retorted, taking a couple steps back. "Why have you been led here? What are your intentions?"

"Easy, Rugga," the man with the knife said. "She's a child, and not from here from the look of her clothing. She's one of the rich folk from the eastern lands."

"I can see that. What business has she here?"

Rana was so nervous she couldn't follow most of what they said. She caught a few, like 'home', 'why', 'you', 'what', and 'here' but couldn't make sense of them. Her chest was tight and her breathing had gone shallow, eyes focused on the knife in the man's hand. She took a tentative step backward.

Did they want to take her to their home? Why? Were they kidnappers? What had she done? Anxiety pumped through her veins in equal measure to her blood, clouding her mind and making her want to flee. She'd have bolted, other than her fear that the man would run faster than her on the snow.

She took another step backward, fear dripping from her posture and expression.

"See, look, you're scaring her! Maybe she's lost." He tucked the knife into his belt. "Are you lost, Eastern girl?" he asked, slowing his words down considerably and speaking a bit louder. "Why were you following the pine marten?"

"She probably doesn't speak a lick of Upper Tongue," Rugga sighed. "Just our luck."

"We should take her toward the Keep," the second man suggested. "That's the closest place to here; it's probably where she came from."

Rana was grateful when the man put the knife away and slowed down. She nodded, eyes flicking to his face. “I… I think so, sir. I… don’t know how I got here. I was following… I don’t know why. I just felt like I should. Where am I?”

"In the woods," Rugga said irritably. "Far from where you should be. Who are you?"

Rana glanced at her nervously. This woman seemed hostile; it made her anxious. She offered a hasty curtsy. “Rana. How do you do?” She felt stupid, but it seemed like a good bet to rely on good manners when she was this far out of her depth.

"I'd do better." She looked down at the marten. "This creature led you to us?" She frowned. "This is irregular. And you are not from here."

Rana hesitated, glancing down at the creature then at the friendlier man. “What is it called?”

"A pine marten," he replied. "It is the symbol of Flotti, one of our gods. It cannot be taken lightly, and therefore you cannot be taken lightly."

Rana tensed, backing up another step. “I didn’t do anything!” Why were they treating her like some dangerous criminal? Just because she followed a Martin. Or something.