She strolled downhill in the heat of day, watching twisted banners of smoke rise from her home.  Cinders flew in the wind as fire danced up the walls and onto the roof, consuming all that it touched.  Watching the blaze, Tilly wore a tiara of ivy, clutching a fistful of wildflowers like those bulging the pockets of her dress.  Her eyes were wide with wonder, imagining smudgy dragons, and flame-shaped goblins dancing in the smoke. 

        She walked up to the house as it collapsed in on itself, too damaged to support its weight any longer.  The flames surged up through the debris, then settled down again to finish feasting.  Tilly sat in the dust, mesmerized by the sight as evening stole the light of day.  Finally, hungry, she rocked to her feet.  The unknown dimension of her mind cleared enough for her to realize that her mother and father were too dead to care for her now; she'd need someone else to feed her. 

          Turning her back to the embers, Tilly strolled away, leaving the only home she'd ever known.  She took the road to town.  She'd never been there before.  Momma said it was dangerous; the priests of Yop'r were there.  Poppa called them gort-faced thieves.  She had laughed though the words made Momma angry.  She'd cautioned Poppa to keep a still tongue in his head so they'd not be cursed.  Folks often died under Yop'r exorcism rites, Momma said, and not very well.  Still, Tilly's hunger argued louder than the warnings of her cloudy memory, so she marched resolutely on as the first stars of eventide jeweled the sky. 

          She began to wonder just how far away the town was.  Her legs were getting tired, and night was overtaking her.  Finally, she came to a place where the forrest opened beside the dirt road.  Isa, the smallest of twelve moons, cleared the hills. Bright for its size, it slathered the horizon with a silver wash of light.  Most of the night would pass before the great moon Jahori crept into view, pursuing her wayward children. 

         Alone as she was, Tilly didn't know which was a greater comfort, light or shadow.  Her eyes dropped to probe the wood-lined pocket before her.  There were rough-hewn stones that had once formed a low circular wall.  Someone had violently broken it apart.  In the center stood a carved image, a man transformed to mystery by the petrified billows of his cloak.  The unknown artist had caught a sense of distance in the figure's chalk-white face, as if the one represented were other than human. 

         The statue caught at her mind as she entered the clearing.   She approached the cloaked figure, reaching out to test its reality.  Cold marble met her hand.  She snatched back her hand, unsure why.  After a few moments, she began to pick up the heavy stones, returning them to the broken wall.  Never truly able to notice time, Tilly worked steadily until the job was done.  Then kneeling before the figure, her tired hands fell against her lap.  One hand was cushioned by a pocket.

         She reached into it, remembering the wild flowers she'd stuffed there earlier.  Drawing the flowers out, she smelled their rich floral scent and placed them at the feet of the statue.  Wearily, she climbed to her feet.  She was hungry, and there was no food here, and nothing soft to sleep upon.  It was time to go.

         She placed her palm against the carved man a final time, wishing him well.  The marble seemed less cold than before.  His face appeared less foreboding and remote.  Tilly smiled and returned to the road.  Her mind drifted as she did, her feet keeping her on the road of their own accord, as her eyelids grew heavy.  She yawned fiercely, covered her mouth a little too late, and stopped without quite knowing why.  Her head turned.  She saw the statue from the shrine.  It was seated on a rock, staring at her.  She stared back.  

        The wind whipped the man's cloak.  His flesh was pale, but she saw the play of muscles moving beneath his robes as he rose to his feet.  She realized she'd made a mistake.  This was flesh, not stone--a living man with eyes as distant as the stars. 

        Her head lifted as he neared.  Her eyes locked onto his face.  Her heart quickened.  Her thoughts were a jumble.

        He stopped, looming over her.  "You provided a service to me, but asked nothing."

        "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," Tilly answered.

        "That is wise, child, for there are none stranger than I.  I am Avryn, the unknown god"

        She curtsied.  "My name's Tilly."

        He bowed in return.  "Honored.  Now that we're friends, do  you want to tell me why you're alone on this road?"

        The loss of her family, her home, her life, hadn't reached her before.  But as she thought about his questions, a break appeared in the fog of her mind.  She saw herself in a moment of clarity, and pain spiked her heart.  Tears streaked her face.  She tried to answer, but her throat closed with sobs.

        Avryn stared.  His eyes focused on a spot within her head as if he read her thoughts like script on parchment.  His brow furrowed, and he took another step.  His cape swept around her as he knelt and gathered her in his arms.  Her wet face pressed against his chest.  Tilly felt him awkwardly stroking her hair.  The thought occurred to her that this was not a thing he often did.

        "It's all right," he said.  "I understand.  You don't have to say a word."

        Tilly nodded as the fog closed in again.  She pulled free, forgetting the tears on her face.  "I'm hungry."

        Avryn reached into the shadows of his cape and withdrew a huge golden globe.  He silently extended it. 

        "What's that?" Tilly asked.

        "Fuji apple.  I get them in the next dimension over.  Try it.  It's good."

        Tilly took the fruit and bit into it.  She chewed energetically, then swallowed.  A sweet and wondrous flavor summoned a smile to her face.  She tore into the fruit with greedy abandon, vaguely aware of Avryn's fascinated scrutiny.

        She was finally left with an unappealing core, doted with seeds.  Holding it by the stem, she handed it back, recalling that it was rude not to share.

        Avryn took the core, stared at it, and allowed him self a brief bark of a laugh.  In his hand, the core dissolved into red, silver, and green starbursts.  Tilly stood mesmerized by the dancing lights, her mouth hanging open. 

        "Pretty," she said a little sadly as the show ended. 

        "You'll not reach the town at this rate until morning, and I don't think you can keep your feet that long."

        Tilly yawned hugely as if in confirmation.

        "Come with me," Avryn said.  "I know a place near here where you will be given shelter.  To make sure of it..."   

        He reached again into the shadows of his cape.  His hand returned with a gold chain.  It was adorned with a red-gold disk.  The disk was stamped with an obscure rune-sign.

        Tilly's face brightened again.  "Pretty."

        "Take it.  Even in this Yop'r-blighted land, A few stout souls still honor and fear me.  They shall see my sign and know that my hand is on you."

        Tilly needed no further urging.  She snatched the necklace from his hands and held it up closely before her eyes.  "Thanks she muttered," letting her empty hand be taken.  Led by Avryn, she ambled along, clutching her prize.

        Next she knew, a cold chill passed through her and the road sped underfoot.  Every step covered an impossible distance.  The chill faded and they were at a fork in the road.

        The left branch was wide and rutted with wagon tracks.  The right path was narrow, leading in a gentle curve around a hill. 

Avryn pointed down the right path.  "That way leads to a farm.  It's not far.  Put the necklace on.  As long as you keep it near you, I will hear your voice.  Call on me in your need, and terror shall come to defend you."

        Tilly lunged forward, wrapping her arms around her new friend's waist, feeling more passion than was usual.

He patted her head.  "It's all right, Kitten.  I won't be far." 

She looked up into his light-filled eyes as his body turned slowly clear as glass, losing substance.  Tilly's hands slid through him as if he were a dream. 

        "Run along," his words fell from a whirlwind that dissolved around her.

        Left with no choice, Tilly took the path pressed on her.  It brought her to a two-story farmhouse made of logs.  Several barns squatted off to the side.  Between two of them was a pen of gort.  The tubby animals glowered at her with mean red eyes as she passed, grunting comments to each other, clawing up the ground.  In the yard around her, wingless birds wobbled from her path on stubby legs, hissing their irritation. 

        The front door to the farmhouse opened.  A huge burly man appeared with lantern in one hand and an ax in the other.  Through the haze of light, Tilly saw his face distorted by a grim scowl. 

        "Who's there," he called.

        "I am," Tilly answered.

        The man's brow furrowed.  His scowl deepened as he advanced a few steps.  His eyes locked onto Tilly, widening with disbelief. 

"Yop'r's bloated rump, Myra!  It's some fey sprite or I miss my guess."

        A large-boned matron appeared behind him, wiping her callused hands on her apron.  She then brushed a silver lock of hair from her eyes, peering past her husband.  "'Tis no night-born spirit, Yoris.  It's a child!  Bring her in."

        "Not so fast," he answered, staring off into the darkness behind Tilly.  "There are wily bandits in these hills.  She could be bait in some trap." 

        "Caution in these times is proper, husband, but if you look closer at the girl, you will see she bares a sign all too rare these days."

        Tilly watched Yoris's eyes lower their regard to the medallion she wore.  A strange expression stole over the man's face as it drained of blood.  He lowered his ax and bowed with urgently recalled courtesy. 

        "We are honored to receive you in the name of your patron."  He gestured toward the main door of the house.  "Come in and be welcome to all that is mine."

        Tilly was tired.  The dozen steps to the threshold looked like miles to her.  She felt strange unaccountable tears on her checks as the farmer's eyes came back to her face. 

        "I'm hungry," she said. 

        Yoris straightened and lurched forward, staring deeply, as if he discerned runes upon her soul.  His massive arms gathered her up gently.  Tilly sensed a sudden love mixed with pity within his heart, not that it meant anything to her.  She was carried into the house and deposited at a table where six boys of staggered ages sat at dinner, battling ravenously for food though there was plenty on the table. 

        "Everything all right, Father?" the oldest boy asked, shoving a heavy golden lock of hair out of his face.

        "'Parently so, Judd.  This little thing was all that stirred the gort.  Be nice to her--I mean it--all of you."

        "Poor thing," Myra said, returning to the table with a clean plate.  "She looks like she's nearly done in."  She filled a plate, batting away the boy's questing hands to get to the food.  She set the plate before Tilly, then took her seat.

        Automatically, Tilly stuffed food into her mouth.  The pleasure of the taste was as distant a thing to her as the death of her family.  She gnawed a strip of meat, letting its juice drip down her chin as her eyes wandered. 

        "She's a rude one," the smallest boy said.  "Not even a 'thank you.'"
       
        "Hush, Kori," Yoris said.  "The girl's a bit touched in the...er...ah...well, she's just a bit different.  Don't trouble her about such things.  We can help what we are.  She cannot."

        The table grew still as the gort outside kicked up a new ruckus. 

        "What now?" Yoris asked, rolling eyes toward the rafters.  "Am I destined never to finish this meal?"

        He left the table, and a moment later, Tilly heard the creak of the door and a muffled curse.  The door slammed.  There was a flurry of activity as it was barred as well.

        "What is it?" Myra called. 

        "The accursed priests of Yop'r.  They've come for tribute."

        "Why?  They know we won't pay them," Myra said.  "We never have.

        Absently, one of Tilly's hands caressed her medallion.  One thumb traced the pattern on its face, and her thoughts seemed to clear a little, crystallizing.  "They've come for blood," she said, quickly snatching a biscuit from someone else's plate.  "They're the ones who burned my home." 

        "I was going to eat that!" Kori complained, "and there aren't any more." 

        Tilly blinked at him and stared a moment without comprehension.  Then, she plucked a fistful of wildflowers from her dress pocket and deposited them on his plate in exchange.  Kori's face reddened in fury.  He opened his mouth to vent but was stopped by Judd's hand on his shoulder.  The older boy glared and shook his head in warning.

        "Leave her be; she needs the biscuit worse than you.  Here, take mine."

        Tilly set her gaze on Judd.  He smiled at her.  A deep cold place inside her began to thaw as she stuffed the biscuit in her mouth. 

        "Judd!" Yoris called.

        "Yes, Father?"

        "It's time again.  You know what to do."

        "Yes, crawl through the tunnel to the gort pen, open the gate, and encourage them to run amok, while you distract the priests."

        "Aye.  It's worked before, it should now.  Get going.  They'll be banging on the door soon."

        Driven by an alien impulse, Tilly pushed away from the table.  She padded along in Judd's wake, becoming his shadow as he paused to pull a cabinet away from the wall.  A hidden space was revealed.  Judd stomped down a flight of stairs, swallowed by darkness.  She followed, her hand sliding along a railing. 

        The blackness clung to her like a cocoon.  She pushed through it, chasing the echo of Judd's footfalls.  Cool, fetid air assailed her.  She stumbled onto another flight of stairs, bruising herself.  Her breath was slammed out of her.  Her thoughts grew thinner, more distant than usual.  She scrambled up the stairs and out onto a trapdoor that lay in a thick patch of shadow.  She sensed someone just before her, crouching next to a feed bin. 

        She knew it was Judd, though the mechanism of her certainty eluded her.  She watched his shadow-shape slip through a fence of rough-hewn logs and into a huddled, shuffling mass of gort.  The animals accepted him without complaint.  He patted them and scratched the hide behind their ears.  They gave him cover as he moved to the front gate.

        A moment later, the gate swung open.  Judd imitated the cry of a wounded baby gort and leaped clear as the herd instantly turned homicidal.  They thundered out of the pen, saw a cluster of priests bearing torches near the farmhouse door, and veered for them. 

        Tilly wandered over to the fence and leaned against it, watching as the priests were mauled and trampled.  They screamed with high, ragged voices as bones snapped and blood fountained from their torn flesh.  The carnage was not a pretty sight, but Tilly watched, having nothing better to do until Judd appeared beside her.  Her eyes swung to his face and remained there. 

        "You shouldn't be out here.  Paw will be pissed."
Tilly continued to stare silently.  Judd sighed and took her arm.  "Come with me," he said.  The trouble's over.  We can go in now.  There's no use trying to pen the gort up again until they calm down."

       Tilly allowed him to guide her from the pen, toward the farmhouse.  She stepped over scattered bodies, skirting the main cluster of gort.  They were nearly inside again when a half-dead priest thrust up in their path.  Blood dripped from his shattered nose.  He clutched a carved crystal wand, mouthing curses mixed with arcane incantations. 

       Judd swept Tilly behind him.  She stumbled and fell.  Looking up, she saw the wand spew a jag of violet-white fire.  Judd cried out as the fire swatted him away in a high arc.  He fell heavily and lay still.  A sharp pain pierced her heart.  Her head lost its fragile thread of reason.  She tasted white-hot fury for the first time in her life. 

       One hand covered her medalion as she turned to the priest.  Her other hand went flat to the blood drenched ground, as he pointed the wand her way.  Violet-white fire surged at her.  It was stopped short by the earth bucking up, shaping itself into a giant hand.  The fire only hardened the hand, making it stronger. 

        Tilly climbed to her feet.  Staggering a step, she made a grasping gesture, and the earthern-hand snatched up the priest, enclosing him in a fist.  Slowly, the fist sank into the ground, pulling the priest along with it.  Soon, the ground was smooth and unbroken.  The priest lay buried, choking on the loam. 

        The girl walked over to Judd and stood over him.  His body was limp.  Arms and legs lay in unnatural angles where bones had snapped.  This wasn't right; her momma had always told her to take good care of her toys.  Tilly's hand tightened on her medallion as she studied Judd.  His chest suddenly expanded with a huge draw of breath.  His eyes opened wide. 

        "I dreamed I was killed," he murmured absently.

        "You were."

        "That's crazy."

        "Uh-huh."

        "What happened?  Where's that priest got to?"

        "I buried him."

        "Then...he's dead."

        "Just about."

        Judd closed his eyes, shuddering.  "Remind me not to make you mad."

        "Don't make me mad."

        "Uh, thanks."

        "Can we go in now?  I'm sleepy."

        "Sure.  Whatever you say."

        Tilly smiled as Judd awkwardly levered himself to his feet.  Then his family closed in.  Myra hugged her son fiercely.  The other children babbled excitedly, swarming around. 

        "Judd, are you all right?" Myra asked, fingering his scorched shirt. 

        "I think so."  He pulled away from everyone, returning to
Tilly.  Like a puppet, he moved mechanically, leading her toward the house.  "You can have my bed if you want," he said.  The idea was almost his own.