said that only the wild things have clear passage.”
Again silence fell between them. Only the murmur of a soft breeze and the purl of the stream could be heard, a bird call now and then sweet upon the air.
It was the ninth day since Faeril had come to the stead. The eighth since she had read from the journal. And still Gwylly had not answered her question as to whether he would go with her to Arden Vale.
On the five days that he had worked with Orith, Faeril had helped Nelda in the kitchen, the damman showing off her own cooking skills, giving the Woman a special recipe for a pie crust, flaky and tender. Too, she chatted about her family back in the Boskydells. And Nelda felt her own heart grow lighter on these days.
But on the days that Gwylly went hunting with Black in the Weiunwood, Faeril had accompanied him, using her skill with throwing knives to bring down small game.
Nine days had passed thus, two days more than she had allotted, and still she had no answer.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, Gwylly,” she said softly, “whether or no you come with me.”
Gwylly took a deep breath. “I’m going with you, Faeril. I must. I had not answered you till now because I had to give Mom and Dad a time to get used to the idea.”
The buccan turned and faced her, green eyes peering into gold. “Besides, I cannot let you go alone, for you hold my heart. You see, Faeril, I am in love with you. I have been so since first I saw you standing in my doorway.”
Faeril looked at him, her amber eyes gentle. Then she leaned across Black and took Gwylly’s face in her hands and softly kissed him.
* * *
“Mom! Dad! We’re home from the ’Wood with game to spare and wonderful news.”
Nelda looked up from the beans she was snapping, seeing the glow of her son’s face and the smile on Faeril’s. Orith, at the wash basin, turned, his face dripping, and caught up a towel.
Black’s claws clicked upon the wooden floor as the dog crossed to his water dish and lapped once or twice.
Gwylly lofted the four rabbits up to the table, then took Faeril by the hand. “Mom, Dad, Faeril and I, well, she’s agreed to…that is, she’s my dammia and I’m her buccaran.”
Orith paused in drying his face and looked at Gwylly over the edge of the towel. “Dammia? Buccaran?”
Nelda laughed. “Men! What Gwylly is trying to say, Orith, is that they’ve become sweethearts. Any fool could have seen it was meant to be.” The Woman set the bowl of green beans aside and opened wide her arms, taking Gwylly and Faeril in a loving embrace.
“Oh, my Gwylly,” whispered Nelda, “you must cherish her and care for her always.”
Suddenly, the smile on Nelda’s face faded as a realization came upon her, and dismay welled in her eyes and her voice choked. “And oh my, Gwylly, that means you can’t let her go into the Grimwalls alone.”
* * *
The next morning, amid a teary good-bye, Faeril and Gwylly set off on Blacktail and Dapper, faring southward for the Crossland Road, which would bear them eastward to Arden Vale.
Behind, Nelda and Orith and Black watched them ride away. Orith had his arm about Nelda, and she leaned her head against his breast. Distress filled the faces of both, for their son and his beloved rode into danger, or so they deemed. They stood that way for many long minutes, until they could see the wee buccan and wee damman no more. At last the Man and Woman turned and made their way back into the house, while behind, Black lay down and with a sigh put his chin upon his front paws, his brown eyes gazing sadly in the direction Gwylly had gone.
C HAPTER 8
Journey to Arden
Mid and Late Summer, 5E985
[Three, years Past]
A ll that morning, southerly rode Gwylly and Faeril, following along the trace of a waggon-rut trail from long-past journeys between the farm and the distant road to the Stonehill marketplace far away, the wheel marks now faint and overgrown. In the distance to the right lay the shaggy Weiunwood; far to the
Again silence fell between them. Only the murmur of a soft breeze and the purl of the stream could be heard, a bird call now and then sweet upon the air.
It was the ninth day since Faeril had come to the stead. The eighth since she had read from the journal. And still Gwylly had not answered her question as to whether he would go with her to Arden Vale.
On the five days that he had worked with Orith, Faeril had helped Nelda in the kitchen, the damman showing off her own cooking skills, giving the Woman a special recipe for a pie crust, flaky and tender. Too, she chatted about her family back in the Boskydells. And Nelda felt her own heart grow lighter on these days.
But on the days that Gwylly went hunting with Black in the Weiunwood, Faeril had accompanied him, using her skill with throwing knives to bring down small game.
Nine days had passed thus, two days more than she had allotted, and still she had no answer.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, Gwylly,” she said softly, “whether or no you come with me.”
Gwylly took a deep breath. “I’m going with you, Faeril. I must. I had not answered you till now because I had to give Mom and Dad a time to get used to the idea.”
The buccan turned and faced her, green eyes peering into gold. “Besides, I cannot let you go alone, for you hold my heart. You see, Faeril, I am in love with you. I have been so since first I saw you standing in my doorway.”
Faeril looked at him, her amber eyes gentle. Then she leaned across Black and took Gwylly’s face in her hands and softly kissed him.
* * *
“Mom! Dad! We’re home from the ’Wood with game to spare and wonderful news.”
Nelda looked up from the beans she was snapping, seeing the glow of her son’s face and the smile on Faeril’s. Orith, at the wash basin, turned, his face dripping, and caught up a towel.
Black’s claws clicked upon the wooden floor as the dog crossed to his water dish and lapped once or twice.
Gwylly lofted the four rabbits up to the table, then took Faeril by the hand. “Mom, Dad, Faeril and I, well, she’s agreed to…that is, she’s my dammia and I’m her buccaran.”
Orith paused in drying his face and looked at Gwylly over the edge of the towel. “Dammia? Buccaran?”
Nelda laughed. “Men! What Gwylly is trying to say, Orith, is that they’ve become sweethearts. Any fool could have seen it was meant to be.” The Woman set the bowl of green beans aside and opened wide her arms, taking Gwylly and Faeril in a loving embrace.
“Oh, my Gwylly,” whispered Nelda, “you must cherish her and care for her always.”
Suddenly, the smile on Nelda’s face faded as a realization came upon her, and dismay welled in her eyes and her voice choked. “And oh my, Gwylly, that means you can’t let her go into the Grimwalls alone.”
* * *
The next morning, amid a teary good-bye, Faeril and Gwylly set off on Blacktail and Dapper, faring southward for the Crossland Road, which would bear them eastward to Arden Vale.
Behind, Nelda and Orith and Black watched them ride away. Orith had his arm about Nelda, and she leaned her head against his breast. Distress filled the faces of both, for their son and his beloved rode into danger, or so they deemed. They stood that way for many long minutes, until they could see the wee buccan and wee damman no more. At last the Man and Woman turned and made their way back into the house, while behind, Black lay down and with a sigh put his chin upon his front paws, his brown eyes gazing sadly in the direction Gwylly had gone.
C HAPTER 8
Journey to Arden
Mid and Late Summer, 5E985
[Three, years Past]
A ll that morning, southerly rode Gwylly and Faeril, following along the trace of a waggon-rut trail from long-past journeys between the farm and the distant road to the Stonehill marketplace far away, the wheel marks now faint and overgrown. In the distance to the right lay the shaggy Weiunwood; far to the
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