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[gypsy_merrique]

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Walter had gone for the day, off doing whatever men like him do. Train? Kill? Hunt? Earn? It made no difference. He was what he was, and would do as he pleased.

After laying the infant Shalcross in his little nest of blankets she'd created in her and Walter's bed, Merrique set about the daily routine she had been setting for herself since the birth of Walter's son. Shalcross was his father's pride and joy, and not a homecoming went by that Walter did not actively seek out a few moments of quiet respite with his boy.

It was sitting on his desk, the freshly printed volume, and the brilliant mast-head caught her eye. Merrique flipped through the Humanis Voice with a strange feeling growing in her chest. She'd known, of course, that Walter viewed the human race as superior. Indeed, it was her idea that people had the right to feel whatever they felt without censorship. Racial tensions were nothing new, and in fact the gypsy people were often the target of negative attention from other humans simply for being who--and what--they were and represented.

Although much of what she read she could not fully agree with, Merri began to wonder at the vehement ideas professed within the pages. There were people in her life who were other than human, and also those of mixed heritage, whom she loved with ferocious intensity. Likewise, there were persons in her past who caused her great pain and suffering, and at great cost.

It was that latter series of thoughts that frightened Merrique the most. The way her mind got around the ideas. She thought of the past, oh, the painful past. Her hand shook as she replaced the missive upon Walter's desk.

Merrique cried out into the still air of her Umbran home "Walter!", the sound of her anguish resonating against the walls. She was answered by the plaintive wail of an angry and rudely awakened baby.

She went to him.
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. . . But the dark is very trustworthy.
It's always as dark as you thought it was.
And you don't have to work at staying there.
All you have to do is survive it.
And I've been doing that forever.
from the novel "Dark Debts" by Karen Hall