This world was not meant to survive her. Or, more aptly, she was not meant to survive in this world. Like a delicate flower planted in the wrong soil, she was expected to fail. Her chances of flourishing were limited. No one expected her to thrive. But like a weed, she broke through the soil, set her roots, and dug in deep.

Siobhan would not be strangled by the earth. She refused to die when she was told it was better that she did. She clung to this life with both hands, burrowing in her fingers so hard that the loose soil was forced together and tethered to her.

She refused to live up to the expectation of her own demise.

It was a hard thing to do as a child, but Siobhan was never known to be a weak girl.

But, sometimes on nights like these, where she sat in her garden during a light rain, eyes shut and face to the sky, she could remember what she used to be.

She used to be soft.

She used to be sweet.

She used to be someone else.

Amongst these verdant greens and blossoming flowers, she could shut her eyes and let her mind drift. The war had ended some years ago, and her life was new now. It was not bad, but it was not what she would have expected nor wanted for herself.

As insects buzzed by her ears and the leaves shook with the breeze, she could remember who she was before she had to fight the world.

Before she had to break this City and make it something she could survive in.

---

The day had been bright and sunny when the Cityfolk arrived. At first the warriors went out to the edge of the plains where the Cityfolk had stopped to congregate. The Elders feared that the Cityfolk, as they were known to do, were here to take a place that wasn’t theirs. Such thoughts had to be dealt with swiftly, that’s what Siobhan’s mother said. The warriors brought spears and shields, and those with magic stood behind, bringing their gifts to the surface while keeping their eyes sharp and honed in on the outsiders.

But what they found was no invasion force. Maybe a few of these Cityfolk had once been warriors, but none among them could be counted as such now. They were a starved bunch, hungry and thin, with eyes that were tinted red from something foul flowing in their veins. All were injured, their skin raw and bleeding from the barest kiss of the grass on their skin. They looked like they should be dead.

It was then that the warriors realized who these people were. There had been whispers of these Cityfolk, little asides said by merchants and travelers alike with furtive glances to the strong walls the Cityfolk hid behind. These people had been put in cages, as Siobhan understood, and set to work for some crime that went unnamed. Before they stopped coming, the Cityfolk merchants said that these dangerous prisoners had broken their chains and destroyed their cages. They burned their way along the outer edge of their territory, tearing down all three massive prisons they had been locked in. From the way the merchants told it, Siobhan would have expected that fire to come with them, but it hadn’t.

These men were ash and bone.

All except one, their leader.

He was in no better condition than his people. His eyes were tinted red and there was a film to them that suggested a coming blindness. His brown curls were messy and matted, framing a face of corners and angles and a mouth that had not smiled in years. When the warriors saw him, they thought he would attack. Everything in his lanky form screamed of tense, unspent rage.

They were surprised, however, when the leader of the Cityfolk coaxed his people farther from the line of their village. For all the anger in his stance, none of it was directed at the Plainsfolk. As the warriors approached, the Cityfolk shrank away, like shy creatures that were unsure if the beast before them was predator, prey, or friend. It was then that the warriors noticed that the Cityfolk no supplies but the tatters they wore. When the warriors retreated the Cityfolk did not advance. They simply stayed in the outer fields, eyes on the Plainsfolk, words at the tips of their tongues but too much fear in their hearts to voice anything.

The warriors and Elders were fine with this.

Some in the village were not.

Like all the other children, Siobhan was told to stay away from the Cityfolk. Their reddened eyes and blackened reputation spoke to some great evil they had committed and had to be punished for, that’s what the weaverwoman said. Most of the children understood to keep away from dangers like these. The only good Cityfolk were the merchants, and they had disappeared some months ago. Long ago, Siobhan’s people had learned not to rely on Cityfolk. When the merchants failed to visit, their people simply went without the traded goods. The world would provide for them, as it always had.

Unlike her friends and agemates, Siobhan was not so easily dissuaded from something so interesting. Her mother said to leave the Cityfolk alone, but her words were dulled and painted with worry. Healers like Siobhan’s mother had hearts the size of the world, and their gift begged to give to those in need. Seeing broken men like the Cityfolk, and being told to let them rot from wounds that could be healed, hurt her deeply. Hearing her voice crack was what made Siobhan break the rules.

Siobhan had to know if these Cityfolk were so terrible. If they were, then she could tell her mother and her heart would cease it’s pain.

One night, only two days after the Cityfolk showed up, the girl crept from her bed and out into the village center, eyes out to the west where the Cityfolk stayed. No warm light came from any fire. No songs rose from their encampment. The silence was wrong, but Siobhan didn’t know if they were silent due to their injuries or due to the evil the weaverwoman was sure they harbored within. When no one was watching, Siobhan crept towards the outline of their lands. Her footsteps were light and careful, her mother always said she walked in shadow. She could make her footprints disappear in the dirt, which was both a blessing and curse when she was searched for. Without a sound she breached the barrier between what was her home and what wasn’t.

It was a twin night, meaning both moons were full and bright. There was more light than one would expect during such a late hour. Still, she had to squint to make out shapes of the Cityfolk. Crouched down and close to the earth, she slowly and soundlessly made her way to the darkened circle where their barely tolerated visitors sat.

They did not look like evil people. To Siobhan, they looked like broken pieces of people. They were dirty and sick, and there were fewer than thirty in their group. Siobhan crouched in the tall grass that made up her world, crawling along the edge of the small pod of mostly men. Their leader was patrolling the group. His vision suffered in the dark, because he kept a hand out, lightly touching his fellows as he moved around or towards them. He fixed dirty bandages made from scraps of cloth, he offered water from an earthen bowl he had fashioned, he whispered quietly to those who wept. He reminded Siobhan of her mother, only her voice wasn’t as low, and her muscles didn’t bunch from a tension that kept the man coiled like a snake, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

But he was being kind. The warriors had said he was the only one to speak, and so far that seemed correct. He was the only one with a voice, and he used it to gruffly comfort those among him who were more broken pieces than full man.

Intrigue and curiosity made one less careful. Siobhan didn’t see as she crawled to close to one of the visitors. Her veins turned to ice when she carelessly bumped into someone. It was her turn to be tense, to ready for a coming strike, to prepare for a scream or howl of rage.

But he did not respond with rage.

Slowly, the Cityman turned his head, staring blankly at the Wild girl of ten summers in the dirt beside him. She held her breath, sharp eyes on him with her hackles raised. Her gift bloomed, and his thoughts were no longer solely his own.

Siobhan had what her people called a wandering mind. Hungry to know more at any time, her mind could reach out and touch another’s. She could listen to their desires, read their memories, and make her own thoughts known to them when she thought them. Recently, they had found more to her gifts than just that, but those new gifts were too young to name just yet.

When her mind wandered into his, her heart ached. His thoughts were as broken as his body. Words flitted his mind, mostly of pain and sadness. When regarding her, a new thought echoed in the quiet chaos of his mind.

Would my daughter be as old as her?

Siobhan bit her lip and reached out to the man. Eyes dark and dead quickly caught the movement. Thoughts of pain and sounds of screaming cut across his head. Siobhan halted her small movement, and after a long minute the thought It’s just her hand moved through his head. He shook his head and touched her shoulder, weakly pushing her back to the warm lights of her village.

“You should go home,” he whispered in a crackling voice.

Siobhan saw his memories. A dark world. Dust in his lungs. Fingers bleeding underneath the nails but he wasn’t allowed to put down his tool. Fear permeated his entire being. His back hurt from lashes that had not been treated. Others around him were in the same or worse shape. Siobhan’s eyes welled with tears.

“Go,” he said in a whisper that was more afraid for her than for him.

Like a startled deer she turned and ran. She darted through the grass and dirt and rushed through the familiar beaten paths of her home. Ducking under the tarp and into her tent, she dove into her bed and hid there as she sobbed from pains that weren’t hers.

When she was finally calm, she made her plan.

Tomorrow she had to tell the Elders what she saw.

The next day mother was not happy. Siobhan confessed her crime of leaving that night, how she had gone out to the Cityfolk, and what she had seen in the mind of the one she had met. However, despite her disappointment and anger at Siobhan for breaking the rules, she could not help but listen to her daughter’s impassioned words.

“Mama, they are hurt. They are sick and sad. It’s wrong to leave them outside with nothing,” Siobhan cried. “Someone bad hurt them, but they are afraid to say who did it.”

Her mother was the village healer. She knew how to mend broken bones, brew poultices that eased stomach pain, and how to bring babies into this world healthy and whole while ensuring the lives of the mother. Healing is what she was made to do. The dream the Plains Deer had for her mother was to preserve life. That sort of gift could not be kept only to their people. Siobhan’s mother knew this best of all.

“You are sure of what you saw?” Her mother asked.

The girl nodded. “I saw them crying. I saw them dying. We have to be good people, Mama. They need our help.”

With a resolute breath in her lungs, her mother squared her shoulders and then nodded. She touched her pledge on her shoulder, where the a great bear stood on its back legs. They were known for their wisdom, and for teaching the Plainsfolk where to gather honey, which was used in many a healing poultice. When she did that, Siobhan knew her mother’s mind was made up.

Her mother opened her eyes and set her sharp gaze out the entrance of their home.

“Then we will tell this to the elders,” she said as she set her sights on the longhouse where the Elders would be.

***

At first, the Elders were skeptical. The Cityfolk were known for speaking lies and spitting venom. Some of the oldest of the Elders could recall when the Cityfolk would trade rotten and dirty goods for their fresh crops. The two younger Elders, however, pointed out that their most recent trades had been fair and good.

“These people are different,” Siobhan’s mother said. “My daughter has seen their minds with hers, and she saw no darkness within them.”

“You saw all their minds?” One asked Siobhan.

Her fingers twisted in her dress as she shook her head. “No. I only saw one, but in his memories I saw him among many. They were put in a place to be hurt. He was very sad.”

“Many are sad when they are caught and punished for crimes,” the Elder waved a hand. “Do you know what the crime was? These Cityfolk will not say.”

She shook her head.

The Elders turned and conversed with each other. There was spirited debate, but Siobhan and her mother were not allowed to interject. Eventually, a decision was made.

“Saoirse, your daughter has already met one of these Cityfolk and come away safely. In order to understand the hearts of these men better, we would have you both go to speak with them. Perhaps Siobhan will see more of their minds and paint us a better picture,” said one.

“You will not be sent alone. There will be guards with you to preserve you both. This is not to be viewed as fishing with live bait. Should the Cityfolk turn dangerous, they will be dealt with,” said another.

“We would know what the crime was that prompted the King of the City to build so many prisons and put so many people within them,” said one of the younger Elders. “If they will share this and allow us to weigh this transgression, we will be more willing to show mercy.”

“The Plains Deer’s winds brought them here for a reason,” said the last and youngest of the Elders. “We must know why she dreamt that we would be the ones to find these Cityfolk.”

Siobhan’s mother looked to her daughter. Her stern features softened and she smiled. When she turned her palm to Siobhan, her daughter eagerly took it.

“We accept these terms,” her mother said.

They then went home to prepare.

---