Keiko
On the steps far above the fields and the houses and the barn, above the Young Master and two Forest Kin, a Squire of Rames and a Dama of Amber, above the odd minstrel and a sellsword and a Lost Rhoni, above the farmers of Waverider’s Watch and their families... Keiko stumbled.
It was not dark enough that she couldn’t see, nor was it on one of the uneven steps she might have stumbled. She was as graceful as any Rhoni could be — so said Grandmother and while Grandmother might say many things...
She never lied or exaggerated the truth.
The currents had shifted — abruptly, sharply, and without warning — and so the one most attuned to them stumbled.
Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know. So said the Ancestors, and Keiko wondered why that proverb out of all the proverbs came to her mind just then. Had something gone away and a lesson was learned? Or was a new, vital wind blowing the currents toward a new lesson?
She wanted to sit there and consider it but, as she looked up at the mill silhouetted by the last colors of Her light, she knew she also wanted dinner. There would be time for mulling things over later.
