Ninte was fast asleep in the small bedroom up at her parents' homestead. Yet, her mind had wandered out. Searching. Looking for a connection that would soothe her pain. A connection perhaps with the unlikely little creature she had taken an interest in. Although it was dark outside, Ninte was strangely aware of her surroundings. And while her mind made its way north to the river Riya, the world around her was formed of swaying and pulsating shadows interwoven with silver strands of light, she knew she was sleeping. But at the same time, she also knew that what she saw was real. That the dark shadows were vessels created by the Gods, and that the strands of light were the veins of life reaching from the deepest roots up to the highest branches. She knew the little creature was close, she could feel it.

Scanning her surroundings, Ninte moved as if at one with the soft breeze that blew over the river Riya, barely a whisper to accompany the trickling of dark fast-flowing water. The sound was sporadically interrupted by the splashing of fish surging up from the depths to snatch low-flying bugs. The breeze moved on, picking its way up the southern bank of the river and into the trees of the Soviyat Forest beyond. It rustled branches as it passed, gently plucking a partially snapped twig from its lofty home and sending it tumbling to the earth below.

As Ninte looked down, a small herd of deer that had been grazing peacefully snapped to attention at the sound of the twig striking the hard ground. Their heads shot up, alert, eyes wide and ears twitching, but otherwise as still as statues in the dark forest. Finally, when they were satisfied no danger was present, the herd lowered their heads and returned to their grazing. Padding through the throng of ancient oak trees, they snuffled at their roots in search of fallen acorns on which to feast. The sound of their movement added a soft snorting to the rustling leaves.

Perched on a protruding branch crowded with sprouting leaves above the herd, Ninte found the little creature she had been looking for. The squirrel watched in envy as the deer continually found and munched on what he too sought, before dashing forward and leaping from his perch to another branch that led him to another tree. His eyes darted around at his surroundings as he scampered from branch to branch, driven by a desperate, innate need to gather.

His search took him to three more trees before he found what he was looking for, but what a beauty it was. Ninte could feel his joy as if it were hers. Nestled in amongst a bunch of lush leaves and sitting snugly within its browning cupule, was a gorgeous acorn. It was still green, fresh and full and ready to be plucked. The squirrel stood back, balancing deftly on his hind legs, and performed a cautionary check to ensure he was alone, before wrapping his tiny paws around the seed and twisting it free. With his prize in hand, he sped away, expertly picking his way over the maze of branches on the way to stash his finding. As he left, he sent another twig spinning down. It struck a fawn’s head and as the young deer jumped back, startled, the herd bolted. The squirrel was long gone by the time the disturbance he’d caused came to pass.

Ninte’s mind followed the squirrel back to the edge of the forest. There he climbed down from the trees and crossed the river at its lowest point, by jumping from one rock to the other, until he reached the other side. On the ground, he glanced nervously around as he scoured the small farmstead village that lay before him. The village consisted of a small number of modest buildings cobbled together out of mismatched stones, clay, and wood, scattered around the area. They were spread out a good distance away from each other, and clear paths had been trampled into the dirt separating them from years of weary footsteps.

Satisfied there were no people around, the squirrel sprinted over to the nearest building and cowered in the shadow it provided from the light of the near-full moon. After a moment, he ran to the next building, then the next, and onward until he finally reached Ninte’s homestead at the far edge of the village. He climbed up the side of the building, passed Ninte’s bedroom window, and picked his way over the thatched roofing until he came to a section of loose straw. Nuzzling through the opening, clutching his acorn tightly between his paws, he pushed through until he reached the soft safety of the nest that Ninte had assembled for him, having seen the squirrel scampering across the rooftops one particularly cold autumn morning. He tucked his acorn away and settled down, quickly joining the rest of the village in a deep slumber.

In her sleep, Ninte smiled. However, as the morning approached, her joy faded. She started tossing and turning in her bed. She moaned quietly in her sleep, groaning in anguish and frustration as her mind wove strange scenes in her dreams. Around her, it was as if the world of shadow and light had opened up and pulled her in. A horrible, cold, clammy darkness that surrounded her, choked her, and pressed in against her, pinning her down until all she could do was let out a muffled whimper. The pressure eased, and the feeling of cold, hard stone materialized beneath her feet. She sank to her knees, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Her arms sagged, dragged down by some unknown force, but as she looked down, she saw chains wrapping around her limbs like serpents, locking her in place. Slowly, four black walls appeared from the darkness and closed in around her, windowless and with a single, heavy wooden door, which faced her. Closer to her came the cell bars. They pushed up through the stone below, scraping and cracking as they forced their way through before slamming into the ceiling above.

Finally, came the smell. It was a rancid, putrid smell, one that made Ninte gag as it permeated the air around her, suffocating her with its stench. When her eyes ceased watering, she looked around and abruptly understood what the smell was. Behind her, laying on the floor next to the far wall of her cell, was a pile of straw, sodden and stinking. The smell, she realized, was that of sweat, blood, and feces. And she was surrounded by it, on her knees and unable to escape with no choice but to close her eyes and wish for the nightmare to pass. But she did not cry. She seldom cried anymore, whereas she had done so on many an occasion when she was younger and all it had brought her was further ridicule from the other children in the village.

A loud, drawn-out creak caught her attention, but she kept her eyes jammed shut, her jaw clenched, and her head bowed. The creak ceased for a moment, then resounded once more but in reverse, followed then by a bang that told her the outside door to the dungeon had been closed. She waited for the sound of her cell door screeching open, and when that didn’t come, she waited for whoever, whatever, had entered the dungeon to speak. But there was only silence.

Finally, curiosity overcame Ninte, and with a determined grimace on her face, she raised her head and slowly opened her eyes. Before her was not the terrible creature she had been expecting. There was no deformed man or horrifying monster, instead, there just stood a middle-aged woman holding a thin candle in one hand low enough for her face to be mostly shrouded in shadow. Ninte saw that the woman was wearing a cloak held together by a beautifully crafted copper clasp engraved with the family crest of the House of Ariyon, the rulers of the main Inya town of Velniya, located several hours east, upstream along the river Riya.

Ninte returned her gaze to the ground, but she could feel the woman staring at her.

“Should I be afraid of you?” said the woman at last, in a croaky, shaky voice.

Ninte looked up with the intention of spitting in the woman’s direction, but as she raised her head, she saw the woman had lifted the candle and its light was illuminating her face. Ninte froze, the urge to spit disappeared and was replaced by a hard lump forming in her throat. She stared at the woman, looking into her eyes and recognizing something she could not put her finger on.

Finally, choking past tears that were fighting to emerge, Ninte replied. “I… I don’t know,” she said quietly.

The candle fell from the woman’s trembling hand, but Ninte could hear the sudden change in her breathing. The woman was crying. Ninte opened her mouth to speak again, to ask the woman who she was, where they were, but as she struggled to find the words, a wave of darkness covered them like a blanket.

Ninte gasped and bolted upright in her bed. She was breathing heavily, and her sheets were drenched with the sweat still pouring from her body. As she sat there, shivering in the strangely cold room, she forced herself to remember the dream - in all its strange detail. Where exactly had her dreams taken her?

Because of her cloak clasp, Ninte knew the middle-aged woman was a member of the House of Ariyon. Ninte had never visited the town of Velniya that was under the woman’s family’s rule, but her father, in response to her many requests, had told her stories. Situated in the center of the town was a market square brimming with stalls that sold all kinds of goods she could possibly imagine: weapons, pottery, clothes, flowers, paintings and wooden statues. Overlooking the square, the watchtower of Lord Ariyon’s manor rose into the heavens, always manned and adorned with a pristine white flag featuring the aforesaid family crest, which was embroidered into it.

Ninte’s father had explained to her that Velniya was home to people who were very much like them. The Inya people had collectively fled the lands of their birth after the Mano attack that had happened not long before Ninte was born. Lord Aviliyon Ariyon had led the Inya to safety and, subsequently, was elected to rule the Inya people, instead of the traditional Circle of Elders as in times past. Some of the Inya people however, like Ninte’s parents, felt that this decision ignored the fact that it had been Aviliyon Ariyon who had caused the conflict with the Mano in the first place, when he put to death the Mano intruder who had violated his wife. These people, who opposed Lord Ariyon’s rule, spread out to create small farmstead villages, like the one that was home to Ninte and her parents. And for good reason, as the Mano threat had never fully disappeared.

Despite the danger of the Mano attacking, Ninte had always wanted to visit the town of Velniya, and to meet people other than those living in her own small farmstead village. However, her parents only made the dangerous trip to Velniya when absolutely necessary, and she had never been allowed to join them. Now, with the face of the woman from her dream etched into her memory, she somehow felt more drawn to the town than ever before.