Cursed: Prologue: Raised by the Mother

 Before I start, this is the last story I have an idea for, so I would be happy for more. I give more information at the beginning of chapter five of the Fire Islands. It's called Glowsnakes.

Prologue

Raised by the Mother

    The bell sounded through the still night air. Summon, it seemed to whisper. Summon the mother of the Guardian. The two of them heard it and paused. There were three bells, each with a different ringing. Danger with bold, loud bells, summoning for community events or announcements with light tinkling, but still loud, and summoning for discussing a future Guardian, which seemed to be both at the same time. This was for the Guardian. Three short bells followed by two long ones. The first figure pursed her lips. She knew what this was. She wasn't sure whether to rejoice or dread the meeting. Either way, she must go.

    She got to the meeting place faster than most people would. The other figure was already there, waiting for her. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

    "It is required, is it not?" she replied.

    The other figure chuckled. "It is. And I'm sure you know what this is about."

    "Yes. The bells may have given it away." She sighed and leaned up against the stone wall. "My son is the youngest in the village without a charge."

    "Yes. He is." He nodded slowly and studied her face. "You do not think he is ready."

    "He is only two years old."

    "And the others were younger."

    "That's true." She traced the curves of the inlaid designs on the stone. No one knew who had made them. They were so old. "Can you give information on the charge? Gender?"

    "Female," he replied. "Just a newborn. We found her last night."

    She closed her eyes. "I'm afraid to ask, but, raised by the Mother, or the Father?"

    He sighed. "Mother."

    "Oh, dear." She rubbed her forehead. "A newborn Neglected raised by the Mother. She'll be mislead, won't she?"

    "Yes. She is the second this year. That is unusual."

    "Well the year's almost over. There likely won't be any others."

    He nodded slowly. "When your son becomes eight years, you know what you must do. You may teach him until then."

    "Yes, but..." She trailed off and became glad he couldn't see the tear in the darkness that made its way across her cheek just thinking about it. "I do not want to leave him at just eight years."

    He placed a comforting hand on hers. "I know. No mother does. But you may see him often. Just stay secret."

    She nodded. "Yes. Secret. Quiet. Loving. Oh the poor dear, alone in the winter, not even two days old."

    "Things must happen sometimes. You know what happened to that one child that the parents decided they couldn't kill without drawing attention to them. How is he? Recovered from the near starvation they put him through?"

    "I believe so. I took him some food this morning." She shook her head. "Maybe the girl is lucky. Do you think she'll survive?"

    He chuckled. "It seems like it. Our scouts claim she can almost reach the berries on the bush she's under by now. Thankfully they're not poisonous. She seems like a fighter. Your son may have his hands full with her."

    She echoed his chuckle. "Probably." As he turned to leave she lifted her face to the moons, shining high up in the sky. "Oh, help him. A newborn. Raised by the Mother."