Every beginning has an end, and every end has a beginning.  The cycle of creation demands this to occur, but some beginnings start out small. Like waves in a pond each created by a source and spreading outwards until it affects the entire body of water, no matter how large. 

One such ripple was created in a small village that had a large oak forest on the west side and a sheer mountain cliff on the north.  Towards the south, many small farms splattered across the landscape.  Summers were often short, barely lasting long enough for crops to grow to maturity with the heat almost causing animals to faint in the fields.  The winters long with deep snow and a penetrating cold that the elders complained about until the snow finally gave way to the summer sun. 

The people of the village were happy to have such weather, for it made them appreciate every moment that they had in life.  Having such weather also made them undesirable to be conquered, and the relative wealth of the country grew due to this silence on the war front.  For the most part, the people of the village were farmers.  They had no interest in arms past a simple knife or a bow and arrow to hunt the game that ran freely in through the woods.  It was a simple time, and the people worked hard.  However, even though they worked hard the weather would sometimes dictate who lived or died.

            It was during an extremely harsh winter that a young blonde haired woman named Elsa was in her home stoking a small fire.  Her husband, Halam, had gone out to the woods to hunt.  Elsa busied herself within the house, occasionally stopping to stir the stew that bubbled within a black pot that hung over the fire with a newly carved spoon, the grain rough under her grasp.  She leaned over, her distended stomach pulling her off balance.  Never before she had thought that carrying a child would make the simplest of tasks difficult but she was happy.  Her life had been good so far with a loving and devoted husband, a fine home and a child on the way, there was nothing more she could ask for.  A small smile crept over her ruby lips as she thought of how her home would soon be filled with the sounds of a family.  She turned, stroking her stomach lovingly and looked over the small cabin.  The walls were bare and unfinished, the floor nothing but dirt, and everything was placed within the one room, but she knew that the cabin would be expanded upon in the spring.  Soon this one room would be designated only for the kitchen and utility room.

            A knock came from the door, bringing her back to the present.  She rushed towards it, thinking her husband had come home at last.  When she opened it there was a stranger waiting on the other side.  Elsa stood there, mouth open, frozen to the spot.  She could not believe that a stranger had travelled that far out of the village.  A cold winter wind rushed in, tussling Elsa’s blonde hair as it blew snow into the small cabin, stealing away most of the heat created by the single fire hearth.  “I beg of you let me warm up.  Afterwards, I will be on my way.”  The stranger spoke, her voice cracking.

            Elsa stared at the woman, thinking, trying to find an excuse to not let her pass the threshold.  She now thought that she had made a foolish mistake, for her husband would not knock on the door of his own home.  Another blast of cold wind hit her and she shivered, breaking the spell that she had fallen under.  She sighed.  It was too cruel to turn another back into the cold.  Despite her chill, she studied the hunched old woman who was shrouded within a well worn, brown travelling cloak.  It seemed harmless enough to open the door wider to let the woman inside.  As the woman passed, Elsa peered out into the fading light.  She hoped that Halam would soon return or that he had found shelter somewhere.  Elsa closed the door against the cold, a final wisp of snow curling around her wrapped feet.  She leaned against the door panting as her child gave a sharp kick.  She had not wished to show any weakness to a stranger but her body defied her.  Instead she swallowed her pride and straightened herself against the heavy oak door.  “I don’t have much but I do have tea.”  She tried to keep her voice steady as she struggled for breath.

            The hood of the travelling cloak flipped back revealing a woman who was in her late thirties.  She had brilliant red hair that was streaked with blonde.  Her features were lined but by no means was she a haggard old maid that her voice and hunch dictated her to be.  She didn’t say another word but stared at Elsa with a small, sad smile on her face.  Elsa frowned as she finally caught her breath.  With as much pride as a pregnant woman could muster she got a pair of small clay cups and poured some water, tinged green from boiled local herbs, from the kettle into them.  She handed one over to the older woman who took it gratefully and sipped, holding it with both hands.  “My name is Islanis.”  She idly mentioned, as if the name meant little to her.

Elsa slid into a hard chair, letting the warmth of the tea seep through the cup and into her hands.  In the stillness, the only noise was the wind outside, the popping of the fire and the occasional bubbling of the stew.  Time passed and Elsa began to lose hold of any misgivings that she had for Islanis.  Usually having a long silence between two people is very awkward but with this woman there seemed to be no need for idle speak.  Had Elsa known that she would be so comfortable with just the two of them she wouldn’t have been so guarded.  Meanwhile Islanis stared into either the fire or into her cup, occasionally giving Elsa a casual glance. 

            Elsa was about to apologize for her rudeness when a sudden pain ripped through her stomach, causing her to drop her cup.  It broke on the floor in large pieces, the remaining tea seeping into the ground, turning the spot into mud.  As quickly as the pain came it disappeared.  She pondered this; not letting on what just happened, but Islanis was staring at Elsa with a strange look, one that was a mixture of horror and joy.  This was the first time that Elsa noticed that Islanis’ eyes, although a different color, were shaped the same as her husband’s.  She was thinking this over when another pain hit.  This time, the chair kicked out from under her and she dropped towards the bare, hard packed dirt floor. 

Islanis was suddenly by Elsa’s side, catching her before she hit the floor.  “It’s time for them isn’t it?”  Islanis’ voice was strong, the crackle in it lost, replaced with an accent that was familiar but at the same time not so much so.

            Suddenly fearful as another wave of pain ripped through Elsa’s subconscious mind, she wasn’t sure if it was the fear talking or something else completely but she had to ask.  “Who are you?”  Even as she spoke, Islanis seemed to have gotten taller, grown to be more of a presence than she was only moments before.

            Islanis stared at Elsa, her blue eyes had a strange melding of green within.  Eyes that seemed deep and endless.  Eyes that have seen more than what Elsa could imagine.  “I am someone who is safe.”  Islanis spoke softly and began to repeat the phrase, over and over.  As Elsa listened to the words and stared into Islanis’ eyes, her body gave a surge of resistance before her mind surrendered.  Neither pain nor words reached her, her body now only reacted.

            Elsa stared up at Islanis, trying to will her body to move.  She felt as if she was put into a tiny box, unable to move or call out to the rest of the world.  A voice kept making her hide within herself, feeling nothing.  "I wish it was another."  Islandis muttered as she glanced to Elsa.  Elsa could see something mad brewing in Islanis' eyes.  Islanis frowned before closing her eyes and shaking her head.  "God."  She whispered to the ceiling.  "Why is it so cruel for me to make this choice?  It shouldn't be yet time."  A sob escaped her.

            Elsa shook as contraction hit her body.  She felt nothing, but her body reacted, readying itself for childbirth.  As Elsa stared upwards Islanis knelt beside Elsa's body, producing a silver dagger from under her cloak.  Inside her mind Elsa screamed in fear; pushing at invisible walls, anything to get her body to move.

            Islanis worried her lip for a moment, tears falling from her eyes.  Strange words poured from her lips, assulting Elsa's ears until the last phrase; “I’m sorry.” and drove the dagger down.

             The dagger struck the wood beside Elsa's stomach.  Islanis buried her head into her hands and screamed.  Elsa fought against her prison, anything to get free.  The more she fought, the more the box tightened, and she was lost to the inky blackness of her mind.