It was just like Stjornuati to drag back some pretty face so he could experiment with his beloved plants. Valmúa skulked after the girl's scent, head low and ears forward as though on the hunt for a meal. The rain chilled her. The south was a damp place — ice and snow hardly felt so raw against her skin.
        The fire woman found her peering at the skies in a way that reminded her of her dark brother. Valmúa pushed her way closer, giving no heed to politeness or distance. Is your foot still busted? The question was louder than the quiet air, like a fierce crow of a raven that rang in the ears.

        She was a pleasant young thing to look at, but Valmúa knew better than to think Stjornuati might have brought her here as a plaything. Where before she might have looked at her and seen only konuefni, now it was only a picture of subordinate weakness. Like a flower before a flame the girl wilted in the sister's presence.
        I do not come for this display, she said bluntly. It was hardly fun to force the injured into submission. Relax, her voice was harsh, but held no malcontent. I am Valmúa af Stormskýli. She sniffed at the woman, but could glean little from the scent information beyond her injury and her stay at the Watch.

        How could a person be of nowhere? The thought brought a bitter sneer to Valmúa, who was hardly charmed by the soft shyness of the girl. She hoped silently that her zealous brother had not brought this creature here for live among them. She was too weak for the Watch. It greatly annoyed her that she and Kigipigak had been chastised for recruiting women when Stjornuati himself seemed to have lost his pickiness. Had she known of Trabrielle's rejection, she might have been more enlightened as to his methods.
        Where will you go? She asked, looking skyward as she followed Teya's lost gaze. Valmúa could not think of a time in her life when she was ever lost. She always knew where she was going, even if the destination did not turn out as expected.

        She glanced toward the soft woman with a stare wrought with steel. It seemed to the fire sister that the girl owed the Watch something for allowing her to stay. This was Stjornuati and Solpallur's domain, however, and thus it was up to the brothers what task they might need from Teya should she choose to leave them.
        Who are these ones? The girl spoke in riddles. And why do you want to leave? Did she not like being with the raven coven? Did she wish to distance herself from the northerners? Had Stjornuati given her a time limit to stay? None of these things made much sense to the af Stormskýli, who believed there could be no safer or prouder place than the Watch her brothers had chosen to settle.

        So she was a Court wolf. This made more sense. From the red woman's limited experiences with the faeries, they did not value the strengths that the Watch did. Teya was a wayward soul, left behind when the pack dissipated after the mere sight of the Watch beside them. Valmúa wondered if the sandy young woman had been rejected, but this seemed unlikely.
        Her nose flared, but she shook her head. I do not choose who stays or goes — my brothers do, she answered bitterly, looking at the sky and seating herself. If Stjornuati sees that you have talent, he will let you stay, she said, though she doubted that the girl had any use at all.

        Quite openly, the red sister rolled her eyes, looking back at the girl with a small sneer. Was she trying to garner sympathy? Perhaps she did not know that af Stormskýli women were incapable of such a thing. If you have no talent, then make talent, she said harshly. As you are I would not keep you, but none stay as they are. You have time while you heal, she said, looking ahead.
        No one starts talented, she said vaguely. It was true that some had natural gifts that if fostered, could become great skills. Valmúa and her siblings had to fight hard to get to where they were. She was no poppy anymore, and that was because she had chosen to push hard into the world and make herself a place. Did this Court girl have no spine?

        When she glanced back at the sand girl, she caught the watering of her eyes. A lick of the teeth signified her boredom with this display. Unwilling to acknowledge whatever pain young Teya was feeling, Valmúa rolled one of her shoulders and looked away. For a moment, she groomed and itched at one of her front elbows, clearing it of icy rain that tickled as it sank through the hair.
        Stars? The statement piqued her interest. Solpallur knows the stars. My brothers take this talent seriously, she explained, looking out at the heavens. She had never had much interest in any of that, but Solpallur was always out here, watching for hours to track the will of nature and see what others could not. Solpallur saw the sky. Stjornuati saw the earth. Valmúa, well, she had learned what lie beyond these physical planes.

        Just like Solpallur, the sand girl seemed to find solace in the great expanse of lights. Hours lost for nothing. Yet, the fire sister knew that there was knowledge to be found amidst the nothing. Though Valmúa did not have this sight, she knew that all saw the world differently, and it was these lenses that were highly valued within the Watch.
        I do not have this sight, she said. They always look same. Her own talents lie in the fight. The rest were not things considered of value, and had near gotten her thrown out. It had been only her bloodline that had rescued her from Stjornuati's deeper anger. Too early had she tried to grow her own power. What do they tell you? What sense could young Teya glean from such meaningless flecks?

        The girl smiled with a joke, but Valmúa did not smile back, taking the words at face value. Her apathy held as she felt the cool air about her, and wondered what use the stars could be at telling of current temperature that could be felt and seen with presence alone. Teya went on to speak of travel, and at this, the fire woman did not need a prompt to smile. She had much enjoyed the experience of travelling the land mostly on her own, the hringja alone to guide her footsteps.
        Her soft features pointed to the leiðarstjarna that had kept the daughter of eldur safe along her travels. That one has many names, she said quietly, hard lines finally slipping away into something florally soft upon her face. I called her leiðarstjarna when I come from north, she said, words slipping from poison into dreamy silk.

        A soft imitation of her star guide's name came. Valmúa breathed it in. There was something in the moment that held her there. Perhaps the moon had struck her, or the starlight had decided that it was now the fire woman might stay herself. She was not a woman who enjoyed such force, yet the light came to her eyes like natural fire. Valmúa shrugged her shoulders from one side to the other, rolling them and making notable cracks in her spine in the process.
        Perhaps my brother did not make mention of our homeland, she said at a level of whispers and secrets. The sister looked upon the girl and saw potential. She felt not threatened, but rather encouraged by such a woman. She might be trained to fury, to knowledge, to rule. We are of Stormhaven, from far in the north. This is why our language in the Common is not very good, she explained.

        The words confused the red sister. The poorness of Teya's speech was something the warrior had assumed to be because it was a second, or third, language. Most of the Stormhaven had learned at least some Common, but many did not speak it well. Others, like Solpallur, hardly spoke at all period. It was not in Valmúa's nature to be understanding of such ailments as muteness, and so the flicker of promise she had captured for Teya left her, and she faded into a staunch, nasty, frown.
        Why? The question rang hard on the chill air as a hammer to its anvil. To the fire woman, language was everything. It was her ability to speak three ways that had granted her many an opportunity. She was the link between the worlds of the north and this new southern place.

        Valmúa regarded the girl for a moment with a straight expression, her heavy poker face showing more as a standing bitch face than one of completely ambivalence. To the fire woman, who had little understanding of such inabilities as Teya's, there seemed indeed something wrong with her. Picking up language was a natural, expected process in children. Though the Stormhaven had better command of it than most, this lack of ability was disconcerting to the sister.
        If you are not stupid, then why do you not learn? She asked it without intention (or no intention, for that matter) of putting the girl down. It was a question she wanted to know the answer to. If Teya was right that indeed, she wasn't stupid, then what had prevented her from just forcing herself to learn better command of the language? Others will not think you are stupid if you learn. She continued pointedly.