I'm posting this faster than I can type! Lol. Here's a bit more of the chapter.

Tymber heard the shriek of the swiftberry bird, signalling it was noon. She looked through the trees, trying to spot it. Her eyes focused on the blue bird that was positioned on the branch of a pine. She heard the unmistakable shriek that escaped it's throat. They were lucky to have such a bird. It was a great fortune that they could rely on it to tell all of the presence of noon.
She looked at the leaf that showed which lessons she would be attending. First she was to go to weaponry. She found it odd that they started a new class. She remembered that in past years there was no weaponry, as her tribe never felt the need to defend itself. Has that changed? She felt odd standing in the crowd of young men that waited to be instructed. They looked around, sometimes resting their eyes on her for more than a moment. She looked down at herself in her skirts and suddenly felt self-conscious. She searched her mind for Staar and tugged at the link there. She surged queasiness into his mind and she knew he was coming. Their bond was becoming stronger and it felt strangly normal. She felt as though she could carry her life on as though they'd known eachother forever. Maybe a small part of her had known him forever.
Staar approcahed. Little sister, he said, you don't feel right. Perhaps you should rest.
"I can't." Tymber replied. "I have class." She tugged at the black fur on his back. "Please stay with me. Besides, it looks as though everyone else has their bond."
I shall stay with you. Staar said. You know, I had a buck. Right when you called me. He got away.
"I'm truly sorry." Tymber apologized.
You should be. You should have seen him! He was three - no - four times as strong as me! But I could have knocked him down with one --
"Class in beginning!" A male voice sounded in the clearing. Tymber and Staar looked up. It was the butcher. Tymber's stomach reeled. She felt like vomiting.
Hold yourself. Staar reminded her.
Tymber nodded and listened as the butcher went on. "I will be teaching you the art of weaponry. We need to be able to defend ourselves in case of attack. No matter," he said, suddenly looking at Tymber, "whether it is from friend or foe." Tymber looked around and then let her eyes settle on the ground. She didn't listen to the rest of orientation.
She floated through her other classes in a daze. She could remember the cold stare of the butcher when he spoke those last few words. It was as if he was implying that Tymber wasn't to be trusted. She wondered if the entire group saw him look at her that way. The butcher was a cold man. The men in the camp did their own butchering, but there would be times when a man was late and a woman wanted to cook her meal but not get her dress dirty. Or when a woman was gifted with some unskinned meat that needed to be tended properly. They'd go to him. And he'd do what was needed in return for...other..."favours." Tymber kicked the dirt in discust.
I see the things you think of. Staar said. This big man; he is not nice?
"He is evil." Tymber said.
Staar didn't ask why. Instead, he led the way to the corral. Seabring whinnied and trotted the short distance to the gate. Tymber tacked the stallion and they left. It was dark now, so the way to the town was difficult. She couldn't remember which way to go, but Staar remembered. Seabring instinctively followed the wolf. When they got there, Tymber jumped off Seabring's back and walked down the dirt road. She heard the crunch of the pebbles shifting beneath her boots in the quiet stillness of the night. A bird flying low caused her to startle. She shrunk against Seabring's black flank.
Do not fear, little sister. Staar said. Night is only a darker version of day. he said cheerfully.
"And quieter." Tymber reminded him. She looked around slowly at the darkness that had engulfed the town. It seemed a different place. Tymber wondered whether she could find her way to Potter's home. She mounted Seabring and led him down the path that she thought led to Potter's. She turned out to be correct; she was proud that she could find his house in the dark.
Then she heard something.
I hear it too. Staar told her. Infact, wolves have much better hearing than..---
Tymber blanked out the wolf's presense and let his words dissolve into a world of deafness as she focused completely on the beautiful sound. It sounded familiar. It led her right into the barn. Her intense curiosity didn't make her brave. She sat atop Seabring hoping the beautiful music would never end, but didn't dare slide herself from his back. He stepped forward, causing the stiff hay to crunch beneath his hoof. The music stopped. From the loft, Tymber heard a russle, and then she saw Daire's head lift from the shadows. That was the music! She remembered him playing the day she met him.
"Who's there?" A pause. "Tymber?" Daire asked uncertainly, squinting at her sillohuette against the starlight.
"Yes, it's me." Tymber said.
"What are you doing here?" Daire asked.
"I - I just needed to get out. Take a walk. And then I heard your music.." Her voice trailed. "It was lovely."
"Climb atop here. There's the ladder to the left." Daire told her.
Tymber started climbing the ladder. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Maybelle, the sheep down there; she's due to give birth any day now. I promised Potter I'd stay close to help her." He moved aside to let Tymber have a comfortable spot. "She's had too many. That blasted ram from the farm over keeps breaking out of his pen and seeking out poor Maybelle. Looks to be twins this time."
"Twins?" Tymber asked.
"Yes." Daire answered. "Not common in sheep. Poor dear will be lucky to make it."
"I am a twin." Tymber told him.
"Are you?" Daire asked, interested. "What is it like?"
Tymber almost laughed at the way he bent over and stared intently at her in curiosity. "It isn't that great. Atleast, my twin isn't." Her voice drifted. "She's very cruel."
"That's too bad. Does she look like you?" Daire asked, looking at her blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
"Not at all. She is larger and has brown hair and dark grey eyes." Tymber explained. Daire mumbled something and fiddled with his instrument.
"Play it again." Tymber said.
"Do you know how to sing?" he asked.
"I don't know. I sing when I'm alone. Unless there is a celebration, singing is forbidden where I'm from." Tymber told him in dismay.
"Is everything forbidden where you are from?" Daire asked, exasperated.
"Well no, we are allowed to -- " Her voice was cut off by the glorious sound of Daire's fingers brushing the instruments strings. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe in the sound, hoping its essence would play in her mind forever.
Daire stopped playing. "I'm going to teach you a song." Daire said.
"I - I -- Alright." Tymber said uneasily.
For the rest of the night, she and Daire practiced singing, and Tymber learned that this amazing instrument was a harp.