Faine was dreaming.

The sun was setting on Craig’s Landing, casting an orange glow over its rocky cliffs. A light breeze carried with it the smell of salt and sea. The sea itself lapped gently at the shore below. Surrounded by dust and gnarled grass, a boy, eight years old, sat with his knees to his chest near the edge of a tall cliff. The boy had unruly black hair that twisted and fluttered in the wind. He had sharp Asian features, and an upturned nose. Large ears that he would grow into, and a slight stature made him the subject of ridicule amongst children his age. Young Faine was bored, pulling grass and trying to toss it over the edge.

“Excuse me.” He turned to find a young girl had appeared at his side. It was Alodie Harlowe, the schoolteacher’s niece. The governor was her grandfather, and although he lived very far away and only visited on occasion, the Harlowes never missed an opportunity to impress upon everyone their superior lineage-nor their great wealth. Alodie also had the fortune to be born pretty, with straight red hair and yellow-green eyes. The boys in his class had been telling him since he moved to Craig’s Landing that he had no right to talk to her. With that in mind, he grunted.

“Mother says you can’t run around with your hair down,” said Alodie, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at him. “It’s impolite.” Faine grunted again, turning back to the ocean. It was quiet for a long moment, just the two of them gazing at the cloudy horizon.

“You can ignore me if you want,” she said, curtly. “But your momma’s watching, and she said to brush your hair.” She pointed somewhere behind her, and Faine turned to see his mother, Alodie’s mother, and several other women standing in the shade of a tall brick building and a stand of trees. They were chatting pleasantly, passing a small object around for inspection. A tall blonde woman took a big whiff of the mystery object, and sneezed violently. The others burst out laughing. While the woman pouted, a plump woman sitting next to her jumped up and snatched it out of her hands to stare at it greedily. When she caught the children’s curious looks, she hastily stuffed it in the oversized bag hanging off of her shoulder. Disinterested, Faine turned back to pulling grass, causing Alodie to sigh loudly in defeat.

“If you want, I could do it for you,” she offered. Faine regarded her with open surprise. It wasn’t everyday that a girl offered to do his hair for him, let alone the prettiest girl his age. Girls never seemed to take any interest in him at all. He nodded. She smiled, and took a seat behind him. She gathered his hair together, fingers brushing lightly over his scalp and ears. They sat while Faine enjoyed the gentle tugs on his hair, and the scrape of nails against his head. He swore he hadn’t been itchy before she started scratching him. While he waited for her to finish, he dug up more blades of grass, and lay them in a pile next to his foot. Then, he dug a hole. He wasn’t sure what he was doing; he just knew that he was bored. At the realization, he grew impatient. Wasn’t she just going to put it up in a ponytail? He turned to catch a glimpse, and saw the plaits of a long braid.

“Hey!” he whined, pulling his hair out of her hands.

“Hold still!” she scolded, swatting at his hands.

“Stop!” he said.

“Stop what?” she demanded, standing up to put her hands on her hips stubbornly. Faine jumped up too, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

“You’re making me look like a girl!” he cried. Alodie scowled for a moment, before her face broke into a wide grin.

“So?” she laughed. “It’s not my fault you look pretty, as a girl!”

“Take that back!”

Faine’s dream shifted. The sun set rapidly, plunging the world into a moonless night. The children and the women disappeared, leaving the cliff cold and abandoned.

“It’s not my fault!” Alodie’s voice echoed.

“It’s not my fault!” it wailed. “NOT MY FAULT!”

“TAKE THAT BACK!”

Alodie’s face, matured into an adult, gaunt, livid, and murderous appeared before him. Faine knew he was no longer dreaming. This was her spell.

“HURRY UP!” she screamed.

“I can’t-” he began, pleading, but she cut him off.

“HURRY UP! HURRY UP! HURRY U-”

Faine woke with a jolt. He was drenched in sweat again, despite the cold mist that had settled over the forest sometime in the night. It was unearthly quiet. He sighed in relief, and crawled out of bed to gather his things and be on his way. It was scarcely an hour before the rivulet met another and became a stream.

At this juncture, he found the orc’s lair, which was not really a lair, but a camp much like Faine’s. There wasn’t much to it, but the whole place stank of orc. Blankets laid heaped on the ground below a poplar. Half a dozen braided twines hung from a low hanging branch. Faine wasn’t sure what they were for, so he let them be. No fire had been made, as orcs lacked both the capacity and the desire for fire; their blood ran so hot that they would be kept warm even in the middle of winter. No bits of food lay around, either. Faine supposed it must have been hunting, itself, last night. He shuddered as he remembered the way it sniffed him and grabbed for him, but cast it from his mind.

Faine picked up a blanket, thinking to replace the one he had left in the last town. Seeing that it was whole and not moth-bitten, he gave it a tentative sniff. It reeked of old sweat, but Faine thought, for a shocking moment, that he recognized the faint smell of rosemary. He shook his head. It was his own sweat he was smelling. He balled it up and stuck it under his arm. He could clean it later. With a spiteful kick of mud at the pile, he continued on his journey.