Who has died in Ch 14/sc 1b of RAGING SEA by @KimHeadlee? #amwriting

Graphic overlay c2016 by Kim Headlee.

The sea is most certainly raging from the influence of what is (at the time of this writing) Hurricane Hermine. 

I hope that by the time you read this, my daughter will have arrived home safely for the Labor Day weekend. If you have loved ones in Hermine's path, I hope they are safe too.

Either way, my thoughts and prayers remain with everyone who must deal with the effects of this storm. I'm sure they're all glad that it's not as severe a weather event as it could have been.

Eileann—though she has only the barest inkling at this point—is heading into an emotional storm of life-altering proportions in today's excerpt from Raging Sea.

Previous excerpts of Raging Sea 
Chapters 1–6 in PERMAFREE Raging Sea: Reckonings

 Chapter 7: Sc 1 | Sc 2 | Sc 3 | Sc 4 | Sc 5a | Sc 5b |
Chapter 8: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 2 | Sc 3a | Sc 3b |
Chapter 9: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 1c | Sc 1d | Sc 1e |
Chapter 10: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 2a | Sc 2b | Sc 3a | Sc 3b | Sc 3c |
Chapter 11: Sc 1a |  Sc 1b | Sc 1c | Sc 2 | Sc 3a | Sc 3b |
Chapter 12: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 1c | Sc 2 | Sc 3 | Sc 4a | Sc 4b | Sc 5a | Sc 5b |
Chapter 13: Sc 1a | Sc 1b | Sc 2a | Sc 2b | Sc 2c | Sc 2d | Sc 2e | Sc 2f |
Chapter 14: Sc 1a |

Raging Sea Chapter 14, Scene 1b

©2016 by Kim Headlee

All rights reserved.

Eileann swallowed a surge of fear and followed her guide.

The heart of the broch was a chamber well known to her, but its dizzying array of pelts, feathers, beads, herbs, dried meats, wax-sealed jars filled with the gods alone knew what manner of salves, potions, and simples, and every cooking, cutting, pounding, serving, and stirring implement imaginable provided a constant source of wonder.

More amazing still was how the women ever managed to find anything amid the clutter.

Fioruisge set the taper in a wall sconce and placed Eileann’s offering on a sideboard.

Sgeir, whose alias meant “Rock in the Sea,” the oldest of the three with the passing of Fioruisge’s predecessor Fairge, was standing at a table near the hearth, kneading bread dough, her cane propped close at hand. Sian, living up to her namesake the wind storm, was bustling about from shelf to shelf, examining jars and vials, and now and again removing one to join the growing collection on another table.

Sian’s grouping—everything from pungent juniper to fragments of cones from the rare Ròmanach stone pine trees that grew outside an arena far in the south of Breatein—comprised what was needful for preparing a body for burial. If that were so, then Sgeir was preparing a loaf to sustain the soul on the journey into the Otherworld.

Eileann felt her eyes stretch wide. “Who has died?”

As a member of the clan’s ruling family, she ought to be among the first to know and yet had heard nothing. A lump grew inside her that had naught to do with her primary reason for this visit. Her husband and father were even now leading the war-band to investigate reports of an Angalaranach incursion onto Tarsuinn lands. Her sister, eager to be blooded in combat, had gone with them too.

***

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