Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin by Caren J. Werlinger Page A

pride,” Cíana said seriously. “That, he will hold against you.”
    “It was like watching a badger,” Gai said. “You were snarling and hissing at him. I thought you were going to bite him, and then… you –” He gestured with his hand. “And he went flying. It was brilliant.”
    Ash swelled with his praise as the others retold what they had seen and asked Ash to tell the story of the wolf attack again. Not until later, as she was making her way back to the cottage, did it occur to her that Gai’s one and only compliment had come after she used her power in a way that could have injured someone, even if she hadn’t meant to.

    Ash and Diarmit crawled along, reaching under bushes and thickets for eggs. Chickens roamed freely about the village, sometimes roosting in the small shelter built for them, but just as often laying their eggs under any handy bush. Hens clucked at them, surrounded by dozens of young chicks as they flapped in the dust.
    Once every moon, two of the elders journeyed outside the forest to trade salves and potions and metalwork for provisions such as meat and cheese and salt and wool, things they could not produce for themselves in the forest.
    “We do not keep cattle or goats or sheep,” Ivar had told the younger apprentices. “There is not enough grassy land here in the forest for them to graze, and we don’t have time to milk and make butter and cheese, but there is a clearing large enough to plant crops.”
    As the weather warmed and spring turned to summer, it was time to plant. Cabbage had been another delight that Ash had discovered since coming to live with Enat. She had occasionally nibbled on stolen cabbages from the villagers when she was living with the badgers, but she had never eaten it cooked.
    After the eggs were gathered for the morning, all the young ones followed Neela to the clearing, ringed by apple trees, their branches still bursting with white blossoms. Bags of seeds waited to be placed in the furrows they were soon digging. Once Neela was satisfied with their work, she left them to it.
    The older apprentices came by to watch.
    “You could help us,” Cíana said.
    “We did this before you came,” said Ronan as Fergus leaned an elbow on his shoulder.
    Una sat with Niall and Méav as they watched. “Niall and I did it the last few springs, before we moved up. You’ll do the same with the ones who come after you.”
    “Do it right or do it again, wee ones,” said Méav. The others chuckled and gave one another knowing glances.
    Ash set to work, pulling a metal hook fastened to a long stick through the dirt to dig a furrow. Daina came behind her, placing seeds at regular intervals and then covering the furrow with her foot.
    The older five soon got bored with poking fun at them and wandered off, leaving the younger ones to their work. They spread out around the clearing, everyone hard at work.
    Almost everyone, Ash thought as she watched Gai standing off to one side, leaning on his digging stick.
    “This is servants’ work,” he said.
    Cíana straightened. “That’s what you say every time you don’t want to do something. I’ll tell you again what I told you before; we’re not your servants. I didn’t hear you complain about having turnips and beans to eat during the winter. So if you expect to eat again this winter, get to work.”
    Diarmit sniggered, his chubby face red and sweaty from the effort of digging.
    “I do not mind,” Ash said. “Badgers and squirrels and other animals gather food all the time to store through the cold.”
    “Well,” Gai said, stepping forward. “If we must do this, at least we could use magic to get it done more quickly.”
    He waved his hand and seeds flew down the row, plopping into the openings in the soil. With another wave of his hand, the soil shifted to cover them.
    Ash stood upright, her own back aching from being bent over. She wished she could do that, but she had not yet mastered the art of moving things