"...A hole inside my heart,
a wound that cannot heal.
My life, my love, my...

My what?"

The pleasant melody strumming from the guitar suddenly went abruptly sour as the instrument was tossed into the hay bales. Strong, youthful hands that should have been forking hay, instead threaded through wavy black hair. It was cut short in the back, longer on top. A particularly stubborn lock seemed ever-present across his right eye, giving the lad a certain roguish appearance.

Falling back into the scattered hay, Kystran Walcreag stared up at the ceiling. The stable was a large one, the Dancing Mist Troupe were back at their home in Rin Caad preparing for the next major performance that would bring them back on the road. A trip that Kystran wished more and more that he would not have to take.

Picking up a piece of hay, the young teenager stuck it between his teeth and glanced over at the mare who was leaning her head over the edge of her stall, rubbing an itch on her muzzle against the door. Kystran watched her closely, concerned that he would have to put the cribbing strap back around her neck, but the mare showed no sign of regressing and pulled her head back inside without trying to eat the wood. Satisfied, he lay back further in the bedding and closed his eyes.

(Sil in *111 ADT* by Regina Carey)

"Where is that brother of yours, Sil?" Aga demanded, her hands placed firmly on her ample hips, shrewd eyes boring into the girl's brown ones. "No doubt shirking his responsibilties again! You go out and find that boy, ye hear?!"

Sighing inwardly, the skinny adolescent pushed away from the table and the fruit she was cutting up into a salad. Turning the sharp knife around in her fist, she stabbed it into the tabletop ducking away from the backhand aimed at the side of her head.

Darting out the open front door, Sil grinned from ear to ear, ignoring the shouts and forgetting her winter garb. She knew right where her 'good for nothing' brother would be. Hiding. The crotchety old Aga made flowers wilt and birds forget their songs. But she was their guardian, had been since she and Kystran were little... ever since the tragedy that had rocked the troupe at it's very foundations.

::Well, that oaf could never be called 'little'.:: she mused to herself, slipping across the path from the small homes that housed the members of the Dancing Mist Troupe and to the rundown barn that was nothing but a drafty eyesore these days.

Snow had fallen, light and fluffy and bathed the private land in pristine white. Located on the outskirts of Rin Caad, the property had been claimed long ago, remaining always in the collective hand of the prosperous traveling troupe.

Once, this very barn had been a deep red, solid and well-insulated, but since the accident that had left she and her brother orphans so long ago, it had fallen into disrepair. It was as if the tragedy had taken the joy out of the everyday lives of her people. They were a dispirited lot living only for the next performance, the next big show. As though they came alive when they were playing another role, living a fictious life.

Reaching her destination, Sil reached out and grasped the handles on the large double doors and heaved back on them, opening them just enough to allow her entry. Slipping inside, she blinked rapidly to adjust to the darker interior, suppressing a shiver from yet another change in temperature. The lamps illuminated adequately, but compared to the bright sunlight glaring off of the snow without, it proved to be a sharp contrast.

Whether it was by accident or a shear gut reaction, the child turned abruptly just as a hay bale in the loft above dropped down from it's precarious perch. Diving out of the way, she landed hard on the wooden planking of the floor, hands, knees and belly scraping painfully.

The boom of the heavy bale thumping down where she had just stood brought her brother running. Face filled with concern, he helped his little sister to her feet, all the while checking the loft above with his eyes for anymore accidents waiting to happen.

Biting her trembling lip until it turned white and trying not to cough from the dust, Sil looked up at her brother. He was tall and lean with a body that suggested great things should he continue to care for it, and she herself had overheard those silly dimwits giggling over him. It made her want to puke.

"Let me see your hands." Kystran commanded, taking a gentle hold and turning them over to see the angry abrasions. Dirt and dust was embedded in the cuts, the elbows and knees of her clothing were torn with fresh blood staining the fabric. "You better go and tend to this before Aga sees. Maybe mend the rips?"

Scowling, Sil yanked her small hands away. "Who does she think she is, anyway??"

Raising a dark brow, Kystran put his hands on his hips and regarded his younger sister with a bemused air. "She thinks she runs the world, doll face."

Rubbing her stinging palms against her worn breeches, Sil petulantly kicked the haybale that nearly hit her. "I bet she wishes I got squished by this killer thing! I wish she was standing here when it fell down and couldn't move her lard butt out of the way!"

A frown erased any amusement that held position over Kystran's concern as worry vied for attention, once again. It seemed that his sister was growing more and more hateful towards their foster mother as each day passed. She was also more reckless and disregarding of her own health.

Removing his coat, Kystran put it over Sil's small shoulders and pulled her closer for a hug. Her first thought was to give him a shove, but she gave in to the firm grip he had on her and let him hold her. Tears stung at her eyes and she tried to convince herself that it was because of the scrapes, but in truth it was caused by the feelings of anger boiling deep inside the pit of her stomach. She hated Aga! She wanted the old cow to drop off the face of Uen!

Just yesterday, Sil had been sent outside to get a bucket at the back of the small house. Her thoughts had been burning with feverish upset since Aga had forced her to give Lorey back the sweet puppy he had given her from his Rin dog's first litter. The old hag had claimed that Sil was not responsible enough to take care of another life form and when Kystran had reasonably pointed out that she had far more responsibilities at her age than she should have, the fireworks started and neither heard the end of it until bedtime.

So it was that Sil's thoughts were occupied with angry images of retaliation when she suddenly tripped and went sailing face first into the snow. The cold instantly bit into the exposed skin of her arms, neck and face as her clothing soaked up the melting snow and stole the heat from her body. Shivering, she gained her feet slowly, frustrated and achey. Turning about, she was fully prepared to kick the offending stone outcropping when a sudden feeling of disorientation almost made her fall again. But that wasn't what stopped her. It was the blood staining the sharp rock. The trail of red that melted a path around to the side of the small house.

Shuddering violently, Sil had stumbled back to the house, throwing wide the front door, slipping once her wet boots had hit the wood floors and landing hard on her backside. The ever-present scowl of Aga's beefy features loomed into view and Sil had stuttered frantically, waving madly in an attempt to explain what she had seen.

Aga had not believed her.

Taking the child by her long ponytail, she dragged her to her feet and shoved her out the door to prove it. Sil had taken one step on her own before she suddenly sank to her cold, wet knees and vomitted. Aga waited impatiently until the girl had purged her stomach empty and then demanded Sil lead the way again.

Rounding the building with trepidation, Sil spat the awful taste from her mouth, scooping up a handful of snow to wash it away but when she remembered what she had seen, she thought better of it and dropped it. And then the stone came into view, it's jagged peak poking up out of the white surrounding it.

... the white... not red. There was no blood on the rock, no blood leading away from it. No trail of horror that the child had just seen not five minutes ago. Just the white of snow... and the deep indentation about a foot away from it where Sil had fallen. But no blood.

Aga's punishment had left her bottom sore for the rest of the day.

And now Sil pushed away from her brother and told him that the behemoth was requesting his appearance again and could he please be so kind as to bring a bucket for rubbish with him.

"Where are you going?" Kystran asked as he pulled a cracked metal bucket off of a hook on the wall.

"Lorey said I could visit the puppy. He found another home for her so I am gonna go say good-bye."

Kystran watched his slightly built sister manhandle the heavy barn doors, his jacket nearly overwhelming her. A lump pushed against his throat and he swallowed hard, saddened by their plight. There was nothing here for them. Neither of them had a knack for the stage, not on nor behind the scenes. Young Sil was only 11 years old, yet she was doing the same amount of chores that his best friend's mother did and though he tried to lessen her work, Kystran was himself responsible for his own share of duties.

Catching the doors before they closed, the fourteen year old stepped out into the snow and made his way to the hated one bedroom structure that he had called home for the better part of the last five years.

Sil rolled her eyes heavenward. Aga's ranting had begun the moment the sun had risen and had yet to cease. A different song, perhaps, but the same old dance... as her brother was fond of saying. Pleading with the Light to make the obese woman shrivel into the morning mist had not worked, the flesh had not been sucked from old Aga's bones and the moisture had not been evaporated through her pores. No, the woman just crouched, bent over with that monstrous hiney wagging in the air as she tugged and tugged on the bucket half buried beneath the snow.

The metal had indeed frozen to the ground and Sil refused to go further and help. The rock she had been sure was soaked with blood just the day before loomed like an evil shadow behind the ample and squishy frame of the blustering woman. Threats of dire consequences had not even been enough to deter the girl. Instead she leaned up against the house, watching and grinning as that wide and tempting target weaved back and forth leaving it's own territory to claim another... it was just that big in the child's estimation.

A bird twittered in the bare branches of a tree overhead and Sil put her hand to her forehead to blot out the sun, peering up at the brightly colored bird in dismay. The sudden sucking sound made her look back at Aga, just as the woman freed the bucket from the earth... and time seemed to slow. An arm waved in a frantic attempt to balance the teetering woman, but her weight only added to the momentum flung in motion by the sudden release of the bucket.

Further tripped up by the deep snow, Aga helplessly rocked backwards and crashed down. The back of her head struck the rock protrusion behind her and the sudden copious outpouring of life fluids made Sil's insides heave painfully. A choking sound squeezed past a tightened throat as the child's eyes followed the stream of blood melting it's way through the snow around the woman.

"Aga?" Sil squeaked, frightened by her foster mother's stillness. "Aga, I didn't mean what I said." she whispered plaintively. "Please get up."

Sil's small boots forced her feet forward. Fingers numb with cold and fear, the child reached out, trembling as she touched the woman's fleshy cheek. Aga's wide, staring eyes had turned red. Ugly starbursts of color replacing the whites. Her eyelids suddenly fluttered closed and her hand released the bucket, just as her chest rose and sank for the final time.

It was the clanging of the metal bucket against the rock that tore the scream from the girl's frozen lips, but it was the horrific accident that kept her screaming until help arrived. And though her friends and neighbors all tried to soothe the child, it was her brother's arms that ceased the shrieking. And as Kystran sat with her curled in his lap in the snow, her small fingers tangled in his shirt, Aga's body was dragged away on a litter, too heavy to be carried.

And Sil saw the red rock again, the trail of blood leading towards the side of the house where she saw Aga for the last time.

Roslynn Kaitarass' gentle touch brought Sil's light brown eyes up to look at the graceful lady in the mirror. A sad smile pulled the corners of the woman's lips as she murmured soothing words. "It will grow back in time. In time the pain will lessen." Roslynn should know. She lost her husband all those years ago in the same fire that had taken Sil's parents from her.

Turning her gaze back to the mirror, Sil let her hand drop into her lap. Her hair had to be cut to repair the damage the child's inexperienced hands had wrought to it.

A knock at the door and Kystran entered the room, nodding respectfully to Roslynn who smiled a greeting in return. Standing, the fire-tressed woman lightly squeezed Sil's shoulder. "I will be waiting outside for you, when you're both ready."

Kystran nodded again and waited until the door quietly closed behind the actress and dancer. Turning to his sister, the tall lad knelt before her, taking her hands in his. He searched her face for a time, waiting until she lowered her gaze to meet his before he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Roslynn had offered to take the children to the Uen Roug Academy in Pallahade and speak for them as their guardian in hopes that they would be accepted. Her daughter, Illaria, had joined just that summer and it gave her a good excuse for visiting. Roslynn had no doubts that the Academy would help build a future for the three children of the Dancing Mist.

"Are you ready to go, Sil?" Kystran asked, his voice unusually low.

Sil stared at him, the minutes slowly creeping by. Finally, the child nodded her head, a drawn look to her pale features. The Academy had already accepted the ghost-girl, why not take two more kids with skeletons in the closet? Maybe the Academy was used to being haunted by children with pasts better left forgotten. Children with skeletons and ghosts...