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Zelda didn’t know how long she slept, only that she wished she could sleep forever, stay in a dreamless, death-like state and never wake up. The pain of living, of being awake and thinking and moving, was too great. She cried and cried. And it seemed it went on for days without end.
She knew she had been placed in Yrsa’s bed, a large pallet that had been draped in black bear fur across a mattress of bird feathers. The bedroom was separated from the rest of the hut by a curtain, and every now and then, Yrsa came through the curtain with food or water or clothes or simply to sit beside her and dry her tears. Then she left through the curtain again, always sleeping outside the room, as if to give Zelda privacy.
Zelda didn’t know what she did to deserve such care and devotion, but Yrsa was fast becoming a source of both curiosity and comfort to her. On the fifth day, when she was feeling well enough to stand, she rose from the bed and went to the curtain, where she peered out and spied on Yrsa.
Yrsa was in the front room, standing over the firepit and poking the flames within to life. It was after supper and she had just finished eating (as had Zelda), but it was a cold night, and she was warming herself over the flames. Zelda realized she was getting ready for bed, for the big woman took off her giant two-handed blade and placed it in its holder on the wall, then stretched, thrusting her breasts to the ceiling, and knelt down, adjusting the pile of furs she had been sleeping on since bringing Zelda to her home.
Zelda felt guilty. Yrsa had fed her and comforted her and cared for her for five days now – this after saving her life!—and Zelda hadn’t even spoken so much as two words to her!
Zelda pushed aside the curtain of beads and entered the front room, where Yrsa was preparing to sleep. Yrsa was already lying on her side on the furs but paused and looked up at Zelda in surprise. She sat up on her elbow and said, “Is Zelda hurt? Does Zelda need anything?”
Zelda smiled, touched by the woman’s concern, and shook her head. “You have already given me the world,” she said sadly. She was wearing a deerskin dress, like the other slender, non-warrior women in the village, and around her shoulders was wrapped a thick shawl of very warm black bearskin. Yrsa had also left her gifts of jewelry: earrings made of bear fangs, necklaces made of bear claws. She was wearing it all to show her gratitude.
Yrsa went still when she noticed. Her eyes glanced over Zelda in surprise, at the jewelry and the dress she had donned, drinking in how she looked in them, lingering over her shapely legs. Then her green eyes softened as she said, “Zelda look . . . beautiful.” She sat up, folded her legs, and patted her thigh. “Zelda sit on Yrsa lap.”
Zelda blushed a little, imagining herself in the big woman’s arms. She came to the fire and sat on one of Yrsa’s hard thighs, blushing a little more to feel how muscular and strong it was beneath her. Yrsa closed one big arm around Zelda and pinched her chin with a large finger and thumb, looking into her eyes. Her gaze was soft and admiring. Zelda trembled beneath the hunger in her green eyes and shyly cast her eyes down. Yrsa was so big, she seemed to consume the world, and Zelda felt dwarfed in her grasp. And yet, the hard wall of the woman’s body around her made her feel safe. She had felt this way with Calain once. She nearly cried but held it down.
“Zelda speak to Yrsa?” Yrsa requested, taking her hand from Zelda’s chin and letting it fall on her thigh. “Zelda voice pretty. Make Yrsa happy.”
Yrsa wanted to talk? Zelda didn’t mind. There was so much she wanted to understand! “Revna is a witch,” Zelda said, frowning, “but she can cast magick around the crystals?”
Yrsa grunted. “Revna natural witch. Crystals have no power over natural witches.”
Zelda stared off thoughtfully. Now she understood why Cassandra had been able to cast that cloaking spell: she was a natural witch! Natural witches were rare, but they existed and they were greatly feared. It was likely Cassandra had been sent off to become a knight in the hope that she would lose her power, but she never had.
“Only natural witches can be trusted,” Yrsa said darkly. “Other kind, not so much.” She looked down at Zelda. “Yrsa suppose Zelda is safe, though.”
Zelda froze guiltily. “You know I’m a . . . witch?”
“Yes,” said Yrsa darkly. “Yrsa was afraid you would attack her in the forest when she came, but the crystals had drained you, and Yrsa knew then you weren’t natural. Yrsa still worry you might attack her and leave this place. Zelda have no reason to stay.”
“Yes, I do,” said Zelda, smoothing her hand over Yrsa’s thigh and looking her in the eye. She gave Yrsa what she hoped was a look warm with lust. It must have been, for Yrsa went still and looked down at her in surprise.
“So Zelda will stay with Yrsa?” Yrsa asked, sounding both sad and suspicious.
“I won’t pretend I’m not attracted to you,” said Zelda helplessly. “And Revna was right . . . I . . . I have nothing.” Her lip trembled as she thought of Calain and Selene staring with empty eyes, of Cassandra and Gweneth being cut down so viciously . . . And she couldn’t go back to Eriallon, she couldn’t survive on her own without her knights in the city. Just like that, life had exiled her to the wild, to her newest protector. She felt like a weak little bird, passed from cage to cage, never able to defend and care for herself. Her own helplessness infuriated her.
“Then Yrsa take care of Zelda,” Yrsa said soothingly, and Zelda’s heart fluttered in happiness and gratitude.
“And you,” Zelda said, looking up at Yrsa thoughtfully. “Revna spoke very highly of you. So why aren’t you married already?” She was amazed when Yrsa’s cheeks flamed the tiniest bit.
“Yrsa was betrothed,” the big warrior woman admitted. “Was going to marry Signe, though Ysra cared little for her.”
“Then why marry her?”
Yrsa shrugged her muscular shoulders. “No women in the village interest Yrsa. Many beautiful, yes, and many ask for Yrsa to handfast. But Yrsa not in love with any of them. Only agreed to handfast Signe because she wanted Yrsa badly, chase Yrsa for years, try to entice Yrsa at the festivals by dancing naked before her.” Yrsa made a face, and Zelda laughed.
“Is Signe not a fair maiden?” Zelda asked, highly amused by Yrsa’s disgust.
“No, Signe is fair. Has tits big as melons and fine, strong legs. Wide hips. She will bear many strong daughters, and there are many warriors who desire her.”
“Then why don’t you desire her?”
“Yrsa does not love Signe,” Yrsa said simply. “Yrsa has only ever loved . . .” She trailed off as she looked at Zelda, then she looked away again, embarrassed. “Zelda should be wary of Signe. She will be angry that Zelda has taken her place.”
“I can handle Signe,” said Zelda dismissively, “and anyone else who comes along!”
Yrsa seemed very amused by that but did not comment.
***
UNFORTUNATELY FOR ZELDA, she could not handle Signe, nor any of the other non-warrior women in the village, who were known ubiquitously as “the hearth wives” because they stayed home and did not hunt. All the hearth wives seemed to have taken Signe’s side and were cruel to Zelda as a result. When the women gathered to weave baskets or prepare meals, they mocked Zelda in their language, Signe the leader among them, her eyes scathing each and every time she looked at Zelda.
The mockery escalated to physical violence. The women would walk by as Zelda was sitting outside Yrsa’s hut, clumsily weaving a basket, and as they mocked her lack of skill, they would yank her hair and keep walking. Such meanness continued, with Signe tossing food in Zelda’s face at village meals and then laughing at her when she didn’t retaliate before insulting her in a string of nasty words in her language. The other women often joined in, pointing and laughing at Zelda.
The bullying went on for one week. Zelda didn’t think there was anything she could do to defend herself without becoming exiled from the village. She was a newcomer and an outsider who had yet to earn her place. Revna had told her she must prove herself a good wife, and so, after her first conversation with Yrsa around the fire, she had taken to cooking Yrsa’s meals and cleaning Yrsa’s hut and rubbing Yrsa’s shoulders when she came home, tired from the hunt. She knew she was on trial, that her place in the clan was precarious, and so she was afraid to cause trouble by fighting back against Signe and the other hearth wives.
But Zelda was tired of being bullied, too! One night over supper, as she sat with Yrsa around the fire in their hut, she complained about Signe and the other women. “They despise me!” she moaned, rubbing her head where her scalp was sore from all the hair pulling. To her surprise, Yrsa looked at her across the fire with a mixture of pity and amusement.
“It’s not funny!” Zelda said at once.
Yrsa shook her head. “If Zelda is to survive in Black Bear Clan, then Zelda must become a bear.”
Zelda blinked at Yrsa, not understanding. There were many tribes of Wilde Women, and Yrsa’s was that of the black bear. The Black Bear Clan had rival clans of Wilde Women nearby. Another clan, known as the Black Wolf Clan, had been trying to take over Dark Bloom Forest for years, but the Black Bear Clan was steadily pushing them out. The people of the Black Bear Clan often referred to themselves as bears, which Zelda found silly and confusing, and now Yrsa was doing it again.
“Bears do not let other bears mark their territory,” Yrsa elaborated. “If other wives wish to push Zelda out, Zelda must stand firm. Like bear.”
Zelda went still when she finally understood what Yrsa was saying to her: Yrsa was giving Zelda permission to crack some skulls.
Yrsa smiled when she saw the look of realization in Zelda’s eyes and went back to her meal, lifting the giant roasted stag leg from her wooden plate and taking a great bite.
***
THE NEXT MORNING, ZELDA cooked Yrsa breakfast as usual, then kissed her goodbye when she set out to hunt. Then, after cleaning up the dishes, she sat on a mat in front of Yrsa’s great hut, as usual, and practiced weaving baskets. When Signe came by with her friends and attempted to bully Zelda and pull her hair, Zelda launched to her feet and gave Signe the back of her fist. Signe fell hard on her seat. Blood actually flew, and when Signe looked up, she was missing a tooth. She touched an indignant hand to her jaw and stared up at Zelda, her eyes wide in shock.
Everyone had gone still, staring at Zelda. The other hearth wives and a few warriors in the village stood outside their huts, clutching infants and hunting bows, watching with interest. Children had also stopped mid-play to stare. Everyone had seen what Zelda had done.
Zelda towered breathlessly over Signe, her blue eyes blazing. She had grown up on the streets of Perth, fighting in the mud with other children, and sometimes against grown men who wanted to steal her. It was the first time since she was a child that she had drawn blood from a bully. She had to admit....it felt good.
The flustered hearth wives pulled Signe to her feet, and all of them backed away, still staring.
“Signe ever touch Zelda again,” said Zelda, speaking brokenly in the language of the Black Bear Clan, “Zelda will rip off Signe head! I am Zelda, woman of Yrsa, woman of queen bear!”
Signe stared at Zelda in disbelief. She was as beautiful as Yrsa had said, with long, flowing black hair and a round, pretty face. Her breasts and hips were quite big and round, her thighs full. She was wonderfully curvy and pretty. Zelda thought it was a shame they couldn’t get along, perhaps share Yrsa between them.
To Zelda’s surprise, Signe lowered herself to her knees, staining them with dirt as she folded forward in a bow. Her friends did likewise, and when Zelda looked up....the whole village was bowing.
***
AFTER SHE STOOD UP to Signe, Zelda became known as First Hearth Wife to the clan. The other hearth wives respected her, bowing their heads as she passed, and the warrior women looked at her with longing, as if they wished her for their own. Completely baffled, Zelda asked Yrsa about the sudden change in the clan one night as they sat together beside the fire in Yrsa’s hut. Zelda was sitting in Yrsa’s lap. Yrsa’s muscly legs were folded and her big arms were around Zelda.
“It because aggression desirable trait in woman, while submission is weakness,” Yrsa explained, sounding very proud of Zelda. “Yrsa wish she had been there to see Zelda punch Signe.”
Zelda blushed when Yrsa, without warning, cupped her heavy breasts in fistfuls and whispered huskily in her ear, “Did Zelda’s big tits jiggle when she swung?”
Zelda shivered. Yrsa had never touched her like this before. Zelda had kissed Yrsa on the cheek every morning, and at night they had cuddled in bed, but it had never gone beyond that. Now her heart raced with excitement. But to her disappointment, Yrsa only kissed her cheek and announced that it was time for bed.
Frustrated that Yrsa would not make love to her, Zelda sought the advice of the other hearth wives, who were all so eager, kind, and sincere now that she had shown strength and dominance. Signe in particular was vying among the others to befriend her. It was she who led Zelda by the arm to the great flower fields beyond the village, where purple flowers veiled the grass in a sweet-smelling carpet.
Many hearth wives were already in the flower field, chatting in little circles as they weaved baskets, braiding each other’s hair with flowers, exchanging jokes and complaining good-naturedly about their warrior wives. Little girls ran back and forth in the sunlight, giggling as they played hide-and-seek in the tall grass.
The Black Bear Clan women seemed so happy and at peace. Zelda realized with a skip of her heart that she was now one of them. She would live out her days here, laughing and cared for, perhaps raising children of her own. Yrsa would protect her. No more running and hiding and sleeping on the ground. Now she shared the bed of a warrior queen!
Signe chose a free spot in the grass and beckoned Zelda to kneel there with her. She knelt behind Zelda, and after stroking her long golden curls in wonder for a time, she gently started to plait it, weaving in purple flowers as she worked.
“Yrsa has not touched Zelda,” Signe gently explained, “because she does not believe Zelda heart is true.”
“But I love being with Yrsa!” Zelda protested and was surprised by her own words. It had only been a few weeks, but it was true she had grown fond of the warrior queen.
“Then you must show it,” said Signe, who sounded very pleased by Zelda’s eagerness.
Zelda hesitated. “Why are you helping me, Signe? I thought you wanted Yrsa for yourself.”
Signe hesitated, her hands slowing in Zelda’s hair, and said a little sadly, “Signe loves Yrsa, yes. Has loved Yrsa since she was a child and has long wanted her. Signe want Yrsa to be happy. Could not say she loved her if she did not want her happiness.”
Zelda stared at her knees and was silent for a moment as Signe continued braiding her hair. She felt guilty. Signe was in love with Yrsa and was set to marry her, but along came Zelda and took her dreams away. How would Zelda feel if some other sorceress had come along and turned Calain’s head? She would have been furious, too, though she would not have taken it out on anyone as Signe had. She supposed the aggressiveness was part of being a Wilde Woman. Perhaps it ran in their blood.
“How can I prove to Yrsa that my heart is true?” Zelda asked.
“Zelda will not like the answer.”
“Tell me, Signe, please.”
Signe sighed. “Zelda must handfast Yrsa—”
“Handfasting is marriage, isn’t it? I don’t mind that. I wish it!”
“—and Zelda must have Yrsa child.”
Zelda paused. She spun around and faced Signe, who seemed confused by her shock.
“First Hearth Wife –?”
“Have her child?” Zelda repeated. “How is that even possible?”
“So Yrsa has not told Zelda? Revna will make potion with your blood and blood of Yrsa. You must drink potion to become with her child.”
Zelda paused again. “So you don’t kidnap men and rape them to make children?”
Signe looked at her in amazement for a beat and then burst out laughing. “Kidnap men? First Hearth Wife is so funny!” She laughed again, shaking her head.
Zelda turned back around, feeling foolish. She thought of what Gweneth had said about mystical pregnancies and thought she understood: the Wilde Women reproduced through magick. Perhaps it was the reason they were so big and strong.