it.
"Good,
yes?"
"Mmm,
I have never tasted anything that surpasses this," Shannon admitted. The
meat was tender, moist, and bursting with the flavors of roasted garlic and
crispy rosemary . "The last time I had venison was when your father
brought home a deer. Mother was so angry."
Dom offered her another bite.
"Why would she be angry?"
"She was one with nature. The
creatures of the wild were never brought to her table as food. I remember them
arguing about it." Shannon suddenly giggled. "Mother lost."
"My father was never one to
lose an argument," Dom chuckled, slicing another piece of meat from the
chunk. "He and I used to fight constantly."
"You did? About what?"
Shannon asked, accepting a gravy covered tuber.
"The color of the sky. The
taste of the river. The number of beans in a bowl." Dom laughed. "I
never have been able to accept anything as it is presented. He enjoyed those
arguments, though. He said it forced him to consider the world through another
person's eyes."
"Yes," Shannon sipped her
ale, "he did the same with Mother. Many times she spilled a pot of water
over his head out of frustration."
"I would say that many times
she found her bottom upended across his knee as well. Ah, I assume from your
giggles that you know this to be true."
"Yes," Shannon snickered.
"I also know that they enjoyed one another afterwards. That was when I
would go into the swamp and pretend to be in a place far away from home."
"Does it feel as you imagined?
Being far away from your home?"
"No. It feels—lonely.
Except for the moon, nothing is the same."
"Few things in life remain the
same, dear lady. I did notice that you handled the flame without burning your
hand tonight," Dom said, kissing her palm. "You have great power if
you will allow yourself to touch it."
"That power frightens me.
Mother used to tell me that there is but a single strand of a spider's web that
separates what is good from evil. She feared that the closer I came to touching
the banshee's curse, the closer I would come to wickedness. She taught me to
keen and to heal with herbs, but discouraged seeking out the powers of the
elements."
"What powers would they
be?" Dom leaned on his side, tracing a blade of grass along the length of
her skirt.
"I can touch liquids in any
form. I am able to change their essence from steam to ice, transfer them from
one spot to another, and direct their movement. If there is moisture in the
wind or rain in the clouds, I can stir the liquid around me and form a small
storm. I am not certain of how I do this, but when I alter the temperature and
the movement of the air within clouds, I can sometimes produce lightening in
small amounts. I cannot reach far, however."
"What else can you do?"
"My touch can make pain in
others go away, but does not heal. And my cry," Shannon bit her lip,
"it is that of banshee."
"Is that what the cloister
tried hardest to teach you to control?"
"Yes. I have a temper,"
Shannon admitted. "As a child, I would often express my frustration or
anger by screaming. Your father did not hold kindly to that."
"How many times did he bare
your bottom for it?" Dom asked with a chuckle.
"One time only. After we
arrived at the convent and I refused to assist with chores. He was very patient
and kind to me. As a child, his words had a much greater influence upon my
heart than his hand."
"Yet, as a woman grown, you
respond to the hand far more than words. Interesting."
"I wish to speak no more of
this subject." Shannon shifted uncomfortably. He was right, her bottom
still ached from the ministrations delivered by the plank earlier that day.
"We will speak much more of it
later. Now, my lady, you are to sleep. I have set up a tent for you, and laid
out the cushions from the carriage as your mattress. Your travel pouch awaits
you, as well as salt and mint, and a clay pot of fresh water."
"Water?"
"Aye," Dom's eyes
glittered, "Here the water is cold and fresh, and will not make you ill.
Trust me, you
"Good,
yes?"
"Mmm,
I have never tasted anything that surpasses this," Shannon admitted. The
meat was tender, moist, and bursting with the flavors of roasted garlic and
crispy rosemary . "The last time I had venison was when your father
brought home a deer. Mother was so angry."
Dom offered her another bite.
"Why would she be angry?"
"She was one with nature. The
creatures of the wild were never brought to her table as food. I remember them
arguing about it." Shannon suddenly giggled. "Mother lost."
"My father was never one to
lose an argument," Dom chuckled, slicing another piece of meat from the
chunk. "He and I used to fight constantly."
"You did? About what?"
Shannon asked, accepting a gravy covered tuber.
"The color of the sky. The
taste of the river. The number of beans in a bowl." Dom laughed. "I
never have been able to accept anything as it is presented. He enjoyed those
arguments, though. He said it forced him to consider the world through another
person's eyes."
"Yes," Shannon sipped her
ale, "he did the same with Mother. Many times she spilled a pot of water
over his head out of frustration."
"I would say that many times
she found her bottom upended across his knee as well. Ah, I assume from your
giggles that you know this to be true."
"Yes," Shannon snickered.
"I also know that they enjoyed one another afterwards. That was when I
would go into the swamp and pretend to be in a place far away from home."
"Does it feel as you imagined?
Being far away from your home?"
"No. It feels—lonely.
Except for the moon, nothing is the same."
"Few things in life remain the
same, dear lady. I did notice that you handled the flame without burning your
hand tonight," Dom said, kissing her palm. "You have great power if
you will allow yourself to touch it."
"That power frightens me.
Mother used to tell me that there is but a single strand of a spider's web that
separates what is good from evil. She feared that the closer I came to touching
the banshee's curse, the closer I would come to wickedness. She taught me to
keen and to heal with herbs, but discouraged seeking out the powers of the
elements."
"What powers would they
be?" Dom leaned on his side, tracing a blade of grass along the length of
her skirt.
"I can touch liquids in any
form. I am able to change their essence from steam to ice, transfer them from
one spot to another, and direct their movement. If there is moisture in the
wind or rain in the clouds, I can stir the liquid around me and form a small
storm. I am not certain of how I do this, but when I alter the temperature and
the movement of the air within clouds, I can sometimes produce lightening in
small amounts. I cannot reach far, however."
"What else can you do?"
"My touch can make pain in
others go away, but does not heal. And my cry," Shannon bit her lip,
"it is that of banshee."
"Is that what the cloister
tried hardest to teach you to control?"
"Yes. I have a temper,"
Shannon admitted. "As a child, I would often express my frustration or
anger by screaming. Your father did not hold kindly to that."
"How many times did he bare
your bottom for it?" Dom asked with a chuckle.
"One time only. After we
arrived at the convent and I refused to assist with chores. He was very patient
and kind to me. As a child, his words had a much greater influence upon my
heart than his hand."
"Yet, as a woman grown, you
respond to the hand far more than words. Interesting."
"I wish to speak no more of
this subject." Shannon shifted uncomfortably. He was right, her bottom
still ached from the ministrations delivered by the plank earlier that day.
"We will speak much more of it
later. Now, my lady, you are to sleep. I have set up a tent for you, and laid
out the cushions from the carriage as your mattress. Your travel pouch awaits
you, as well as salt and mint, and a clay pot of fresh water."
"Water?"
"Aye," Dom's eyes
glittered, "Here the water is cold and fresh, and will not make you ill.
Trust me, you
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