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Description
Ember and her unborn child
Winter 758
The Ash Pains, Silverthorne

--

Ember woke suddenly. The winter night was dark and silent. Even the baby inside her was still, tired from the incredible amount of kicking it had accomplished during the day.

It is time...

What was that? Ember shot to her feet in a panic. Time for what? Where was the voice coming from?

A chill ran down her spine. Was it the baby? Was it coming early? There was no pain, no sign of that. What was it time for?

It is time...

The sound wasn't a physical one. The voice was inside her head, inside her mind, but it seemed to be coming from the back of the small alcove where she spent her nights. She began rooting through the possessions she'd stacked and suddenly there it was. Under a pile of furs lay the obsidian charm the old Glenmore stag had made her several years before.

It had sat there, dusty and nearly forgotten, since the day she'd returned from Blackwood. She'd tried it, tried so hard to make it work but to no avail. Her magic simply wasn't strong enough, or else the thing just didn't work.

It is time, the thing whispered again to her. What did that mean? Did it mean she was ready? Did it sense she was strong enough to harness the power of metal like the great masters?

You must go...

Go where? This little alcove in the hills away from the herd wasn't much but it was home. Why would she leave?

The Iron Hills...

She looked to the east. The sun was nearly ready to rise. If she left now and traveled hard she could get there in a week. Something stirred inside her. The old obsession with the power of metal making itself known again. That flame, long dormant, bursting back to life.

At least she should take the time to tell her children where she was going, the rational part of her mind said. They would want to know where she was, that she was okay.

The rational part of her mind was overwhelmed by the fire of obsession which was roared back to the forefront of her mind, and she left.

---

The Iron Hills, Silverthorne

Two weeks later she arrived in the Iron Hills carrying nothing but her charm and the fighter in her belly. The place was truly wild- great jagged ravines cut through the tall granite peaks lending shelter to fawnlings and predators alike. An eagle soared overhead, but it carried no fear for her. She had the gift of fire. No eagle would make a meal of her little one.

Here...

She looked where the charm prompted her and found what she hadn't known she was looking for. It was perfect.

A steep chasm between two enclosed granite walls; with a natural chimney and cover from all sides, this place would be her forge. It would only take some minor sculpting with loose granite to form the shell, most of it was already in place. As if someone had built it here many years ago. As if it had been here waiting for her to arrive.

The charm around her neck began to chime. It was a quiet chime, a chime of affirmation that sounded only for her. There was metal nearby.

Ember clambered up the steep slopes, using the generous muscle she'd spent years developing. The added weight of her baby might slow her down but it wouldn't hold her back. From the top of a small rise she surveyed the hills.

Her charm sang.

Iron. The Iron Hills were full of iron. Getting it out would take work- a lot of work, being trapped under granite and rock- but it was here.

The artist had found her tools. It was time to start creating.

Description
Ember and her unborn child
Winter 758
The Ash Pains, Silverthorne

--

Ember woke suddenly. The winter night was dark and silent. Even the baby inside her was still, tired from the incredible amount of kicking it had accomplished during the day.

It is time...

What was that? Ember shot to her feet in a panic. Time for what? Where was the voice coming from?

A chill ran down her spine. Was it the baby? Was it coming early? There was no pain, no sign of that. What was it time for?

It is time...

The sound wasn't a physical one. The voice was inside her head, inside her mind, but it seemed to be coming from the back of the small alcove where she spent her nights. She began rooting through the possessions she'd stacked and suddenly there it was. Under a pile of furs lay the obsidian charm the old Glenmore stag had made her several years before.

It had sat there, dusty and nearly forgotten, since the day she'd returned from Blackwood. She'd tried it, tried so hard to make it work but to no avail. Her magic simply wasn't strong enough, or else the thing just didn't work.

It is time, the thing whispered again to her. What did that mean? Did it mean she was ready? Did it sense she was strong enough to harness the power of metal like the great masters?

You must go...

Go where? This little alcove in the hills away from the herd wasn't much but it was home. Why would she leave?

The Iron Hills...

She looked to the east. The sun was nearly ready to rise. If she left now and traveled hard she could get there in a week. Something stirred inside her. The old obsession with the power of metal making itself known again. That flame, long dormant, bursting back to life.

At least she should take the time to tell her children where she was going, the rational part of her mind said. They would want to know where she was, that she was okay.

The rational part of her mind was overwhelmed by the fire of obsession which was roared back to the forefront of her mind, and she left.

---

The Iron Hills, Silverthorne

Two weeks later she arrived in the Iron Hills carrying nothing but her charm and the fighter in her belly. The place was truly wild- great jagged ravines cut through the tall granite peaks lending shelter to fawnlings and predators alike. An eagle soared overhead, but it carried no fear for her. She had the gift of fire. No eagle would make a meal of her little one.

Here...

She looked where the charm prompted her and found what she hadn't known she was looking for. It was perfect.

A steep chasm between two enclosed granite walls; with a natural chimney and cover from all sides, this place would be her forge. It would only take some minor sculpting with loose granite to form the shell, most of it was already in place. As if someone had built it here many years ago. As if it had been here waiting for her to arrive.

The charm around her neck began to chime. It was a quiet chime, a chime of affirmation that sounded only for her. There was metal nearby.

Ember clambered up the steep slopes, using the generous muscle she'd spent years developing. The added weight of her baby might slow her down but it wouldn't hold her back. From the top of a small rise she surveyed the hills.

Her charm sang.

Iron. The Iron Hills were full of iron. Getting it out would take work- a lot of work, being trapped under granite and rock- but it was here.

The artist had found her tools. It was time to start creating.