The Price Of War

Hashna straightened and stuck two closed fists into her lower back, kneading the stiff muscles that had become locked from the hours of her hunched position. She let her head fall back with a slow and gentle stretch as she rolled her head, trying in vain to loosen their tight grip.

"Keep that up and you're going to be looking like Deidre in no time," Beytha, Hashna's best and dearest companion said.

Beytha was short and slender, golden hair long with just a slight wave hung down around her hips, only the fronts were braided back out of her face. She had the sweet face of a fresh born child, milky skin and rosy pink cheeks, as though it had never been whipped and lashed relentlessly by the unforgiving winter air. The only sign of the cold was the cherry red tip of her sweet button nose.

She walked to Hashna, pausing for just a moment to hike up the neck of her cloak against the sharp tongues of wind. As she approached, she dropped a few rolls of rolled cloth into Hashna's basket.

"Mum said that you were doing checks ups today. I thought a few more rolls of dressing might be in order," Beytha said in a wistful tone.

"Two more cases of frostbite and the Mc Duddly's have run short on their food again this week," Hashna said in an exhausted tone.

"Well when you have four boys that sized what would one expect," Beytha said.

"I'm bringing them some food to get them through but those boys are going to need to go hunt for the rest," Hashna said, the annoyance in her tone notable.

"Hashna…" Beytha said softly, "They only just lost their Da, he was their major support for food."

It was true, the family's patriarch had left in the spring with the other men to face the Fomoire army and had never come home. Guilt knocked at Hashna's gut. The oldest Mc Duddly boy was only just ten and had never learned to hunt enough to be able to feed himself, let alone his three brothers and mother who was even now, heavy with pregnancy. Why would he? His father had been one of the most skilled hunters in their village. On a single hunt, he could procure enough food for his growing family and the village to boot. It had never crossed anyone's mind that when he'd left for battle, he may never return. The loss had been felt by all. Sadness lapped at Hashna's indifferent mask.

Hashna had begun to understand in the days since her visit with Deidre, the reason that marriage had become an almost obsession for her. Never before was there a chance at peace. War was almost as much a reality for her people as one season ebbing and giving way to the next. The wars were just a part of life. The thought that there would be no more families like the Mc Duddly's was as addictive as sunlight to the petals of the flower. She could not rest until she reached it. The thought that babies might be born in the spring and never know the sting of the loss of their father's from an endless war was so potent that Hashna could not let it slip from her grasp.

"So it wouldn't have to do with a certain princes' tender blue eyes and strong arms then?" Deidre's voice mocked in Hashna' head. Her blush was the only reply even now.

Even when she'd run back to Elathan after her retreat from the suffocating heat of the old woman's hut, there was an excitement Hashna didn't quite understand bubbling in her gut at the thought of being near him once more. She'd not been disappointed when she'd entered his camp.

She can still see him in her mind. Elathan had ducked out of a humble shelter he'd built from the fallen branches and dead grass he'd found near his camp. His massive figure looked so funny coming out of the small dwelling, as though no one so big could possibly fit inside a space so small. His smile still was still with her even days later. Bright and beautiful he'd smiled at her without any filter. His genuine enthusiasm at seeing her so unexpectedly had filled up and spilled over in her heart.

Hashna's eyes blinked as Beytha's hand waved in front of her face. She focused on the other girls face and tried not to blush at the glint in her dear friend's eyes.

"Are you going to tell me anything about him?" Beytha asked.

The look on her face was a mix of curiosity and excitement. Her bright blue eyes were alight with mischief as she smiled at Hashna expectantly.

"I've been dying for you to say something, but then you didn't so I thought maybe there wasn't anything to talk about but there are whispers…" She said and then shut her mouth abruptly.

"What whispers?" Hashna asked abruptly. The haze of memory clearing as she snapped back into the present.

They were walking now, heading to another dwelling where Hashna would wrap wounds or deliver extra food to the villagers.

"Oh nothing…" Beytha said hesitantly.

Hashna stopped at this, ignoring the cold that had begun to chap and numb her cheeks.

"There are just some saying that the young prince is camped outside of the village… and that you seem…partial to him," Beytha said, weighing each word before it came out of her mouth.

Hashna thought about this. I seem partial to him? What does that even mean? She wondered.

"He's kind and seems so… innocent. He's resorseful and I get the feeling he is honest in his intentions for peace…" Hashna thought aloud.

"And handsome?" Beytha said in a teasing tone.

Hashna's eyebrow arched as she looked at Beytha. She didn't answer as she turned away. They'd reached the next house and Hashna wasn't even sure how she wanted to answer that question. Something about having Elathan tucked away in the forest felt like a separation to this life. Like when she went to see him, time slowed to a stop and it was just them in a bubble separate from the rest of the world. I'm not ready to share that yet… She thought, and just as quickly she was surprised by this reaction. Share what? What is there to share? She thought. His smiles? His smile? His time? No, somewhere deep within her, in a place that had slept for what may have been forever admitted she definitely didn't want to share those at all.

Her hand hesitated before knocking on the door, "It doesn't matter," she said softly, "The council has to decide if they will even allow him to be a candidate first."

"And if they do?" Beytha pushed.

Hashna thought back to the moment in the woods when she had told Elathan of the other princes and the tournament.

"And how do you feel about it?" He'd asked, sliding a hand over his neck and tilting his head to the side.

Why'd he have to do that? Why did he have to look at her like that? He looked like a god, etched in the sunlight his golden hair catching the sun beams, making the golden locks glow.

"What do you mean," she snapped, slightly annoyed.

"What do you want Hashna?" He had asked her, his eyes locked on hers.

"Does it even matter what I want?" She'd asked.

"It does to me," he said softly.

"I want peace. I want babies to be born in the spring and not die in the winter. I want crops to grow and my people not to starve… I want men to grow old and die in their beds, not as boys on a battle field fighting a war they didn't start," Hashna said, the words had tumbled from her mouth, she'd been unable to slow them.

He'd stepped closer. She hadn't turned away so he slid a gentle hand into her hair and tilted her head back. He'd smiled that brilliant smile, his eyes warm and sweet as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Me too."

Hashna came back to the present and looked at Beytha, "Then he'll have to win," she said.

With that she knocked on the door of the cottage and entered.

"Hello Cordelia, I hear we have a possible case of frostbite, let's see the little guy and see what we might do," Hashna said as she slipped into the cottage and closed the door behind her.

Beytha stared at the closed door and grinned. Yes, yes he must win. For all our sakes. She thought shaking her head slightly before walking away.