Wood smoke, roasting meat and the distinct tang of livestock filled the air and Jahrra grinned. It was nice to have control of one’s senses once again.
She saw Jaax first, not surprisingly, sitting at ease with a great bowl in front of him as the fire accentuated all his fierce angles. He was having what appeared to be a cheerful conversation with Aydehn and a few of the other village men.
Once Jahrra stepped into the firelight everyone stopped what they had been saying to their neighbors and looked at her. Jahrra gritted her teeth. She really wished they wouldn’t do that. It had taken them all week to grow used to her presence without looking upon her in awe as they had when she first arrived. Now, thanks to her little spectacle earlier that day, she was once again a novelty. Jaax glanced over immediately, the almost calm, relaxed look on his face long gone. Instead he donned the same look he always seemed to give her when he knew she was watching him: caution, concern, authority and curiosity. This time there was a hint of relief.
Jahrra sighed and walked over to where her guardian reclined, not feeling comfortable near anyone else right at that moment. Nelliah joined a good-looking man on the other side of the bonfire, Athon, Jahrra guessed.
“It’s good to see you well, Jahrra,” Jaax murmured.
Jahrra blinked up in surprise. He actually sounded sincere, something Jahrra knew he was capable of but only saved for very rare occasions.
“How do you feel?”
“Fine, except for my head,” she answered, pressing a palm against the spot that hurt the worst.
“Then some willow bark tea is in order,” Aydehn said, stretching out a hand that clasped an extra mug.
Soon Jahrra was sipping at the bitter concoction and the modest festivities continued. She had done this nearly every night; joined them by the fire with Jaax at her side. But tonight it seemed strange, awkward, new even, as if this was her first night sharing tea with them.
Time crept on and Jahrra listened as the villagers slowly became accustomed to her presence, rejoining their comrades in light, cheery conversation. Jahrra guessed the reason for their cautious behavior was that they’d been holding out for her to drop to the ground and fall into fits of hysteria again. She was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
Taking a deep breath to calm her mind, Jahrra found a soft spot on the ground beside Jaax, leaning up against his shoulder as she observed those around her. Despite today’s singular mishap, it had been a great visit. All in all, she decided this was a happy place, the village of Crie, and not for the first time she wondered what her life would have been like if these elvin people had kept her as one of their own.
Now that she had time to truly contemplate it, without Jaax’s commentary, she gave it some serious thought. She was sure she would’ve grown up playing along the riverbank, collecting wildflowers in the spring and tending the chickens and goats with a skip in her step. But she would have stood out like a sore thumb. Her blond hair, blue eyes and height would have been noticed and she never really would have fit in. True, she hadn’t fit in all that well in Oescienne but at least there were others who resembled her somewhat. In Crie she would have had different parents, different friends, and she wouldn’t have had Hroombra.
Jahrra bit her lip and sipped more of her tea, grateful that the somewhat unpleasant stuff was easing the pain in her head. No, she wouldn’t have had Hroombra. Jaax had been right. No one else could have raised her as well, she was sure of that now. Taking a deep breath to ease the pain of her memories, she eyed the bonfire more closely, noticing that the smoke looked strange to her.
“Why is the fire smoke red Jaax?” she asked sleepily.
She remembered the fire from the Sobledthe festival back in Lensterans; how the celebrants had added herbs and their very own magic to
She saw Jaax first, not surprisingly, sitting at ease with a great bowl in front of him as the fire accentuated all his fierce angles. He was having what appeared to be a cheerful conversation with Aydehn and a few of the other village men.
Once Jahrra stepped into the firelight everyone stopped what they had been saying to their neighbors and looked at her. Jahrra gritted her teeth. She really wished they wouldn’t do that. It had taken them all week to grow used to her presence without looking upon her in awe as they had when she first arrived. Now, thanks to her little spectacle earlier that day, she was once again a novelty. Jaax glanced over immediately, the almost calm, relaxed look on his face long gone. Instead he donned the same look he always seemed to give her when he knew she was watching him: caution, concern, authority and curiosity. This time there was a hint of relief.
Jahrra sighed and walked over to where her guardian reclined, not feeling comfortable near anyone else right at that moment. Nelliah joined a good-looking man on the other side of the bonfire, Athon, Jahrra guessed.
“It’s good to see you well, Jahrra,” Jaax murmured.
Jahrra blinked up in surprise. He actually sounded sincere, something Jahrra knew he was capable of but only saved for very rare occasions.
“How do you feel?”
“Fine, except for my head,” she answered, pressing a palm against the spot that hurt the worst.
“Then some willow bark tea is in order,” Aydehn said, stretching out a hand that clasped an extra mug.
Soon Jahrra was sipping at the bitter concoction and the modest festivities continued. She had done this nearly every night; joined them by the fire with Jaax at her side. But tonight it seemed strange, awkward, new even, as if this was her first night sharing tea with them.
Time crept on and Jahrra listened as the villagers slowly became accustomed to her presence, rejoining their comrades in light, cheery conversation. Jahrra guessed the reason for their cautious behavior was that they’d been holding out for her to drop to the ground and fall into fits of hysteria again. She was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
Taking a deep breath to calm her mind, Jahrra found a soft spot on the ground beside Jaax, leaning up against his shoulder as she observed those around her. Despite today’s singular mishap, it had been a great visit. All in all, she decided this was a happy place, the village of Crie, and not for the first time she wondered what her life would have been like if these elvin people had kept her as one of their own.
Now that she had time to truly contemplate it, without Jaax’s commentary, she gave it some serious thought. She was sure she would’ve grown up playing along the riverbank, collecting wildflowers in the spring and tending the chickens and goats with a skip in her step. But she would have stood out like a sore thumb. Her blond hair, blue eyes and height would have been noticed and she never really would have fit in. True, she hadn’t fit in all that well in Oescienne but at least there were others who resembled her somewhat. In Crie she would have had different parents, different friends, and she wouldn’t have had Hroombra.
Jahrra bit her lip and sipped more of her tea, grateful that the somewhat unpleasant stuff was easing the pain in her head. No, she wouldn’t have had Hroombra. Jaax had been right. No one else could have raised her as well, she was sure of that now. Taking a deep breath to ease the pain of her memories, she eyed the bonfire more closely, noticing that the smoke looked strange to her.
“Why is the fire smoke red Jaax?” she asked sleepily.
She remembered the fire from the Sobledthe festival back in Lensterans; how the celebrants had added herbs and their very own magic to
Similar Books
