By the time Spirit and Elissay stepped into camp, the other elves were already gathered around the cheerfully blazing fire. The six pigeons lay on a spit over the fire, sizzling softly in the background. Spirit took a deep breath of the cool, dry air, savoring the smoky tinge of dinner.
The sun had all but disappeared beneath the horizon, throwing bright strips of red and orange high into the night sky like streamers on a festival day. The prairie grass shone orange in the dusky glow, and looked almost as if the entire plain was aflame. Shining like a pearly drop of silver, the moon rose to take its place in the heavens. As small creatures rustled through the reeds behind him, and far off into the growing darkness an owl hooted, Spirit smiled. It was all rather peaceful. After his bath in the pool, the uneasiness that had plagued Spirit since morning had disappeared. All seemed to be right again.
“Come on you two! Quit standing there like a pair of absent-minded layabouts and sit down. I’m hungry,” Lilten grumbled impatiently. Laughing, Spirit and Elissay hurried over and inserted themselves into the circle. Spirit ended up between Bellirn and Elissay.
Bellirn grasped Spirit’s hand and bowed his head. There was a soft rustling as the other elves followed his lead. Spirit felt a fiery blush creeping onto his face as he realized he was would have to hold Elissay’s hand, but the emotion he was feeling was anything but embarrassment. He had no clue what it was. It felt prickly, intense… eager? What is going on with me? he thought, wrestling with his muddled emotions.
For a moment he just sat there, desperately wishing he could sit down and figure out what was going on in his head. Then he remembered they were getting ready to pray. Slowly, feeling incredibly nervous but oddly pleased, Spirit reached out for Elissay’s hand. Her soft fingers brushed his, and an electric tingle raced across his body. Hardly daring to breath, he closed his fingers around hers. Her hand was warm, her grip surprisingly tender. Unable to stop himself, Spirit peeked at her face.
As if she could feel the weight of his gaze, Elissay opened her deep green eyes and looked up. When she caught him staring at her, a smile began to creep onto her face. Then a strange emotion exploded across her face, and she whipped her head back forward, eyes determinedly clamped shut.
Confused by her reaction and yet fighting back the sudden desire to start grinning like a maniac, Spirit lowered his head as well. He breathed deeply several times, trying to calm his racing heart. Elissay’s fingers twitched in his, but then they calmed and he heard her take a deep breath. A warm sense of satisfaction set his whole body abuzz, and finally, a grin spread across his face. The grin faded as Bellirn cleared his throat and began.
“Oh Creator, ruler of the heavens, master of this world, we come to you in humble gratitude for protecting us as we have traveled to this place. We have passed through many dangers, but your guiding hand has protected us from them all. We ask you now that you would continue to watch over us as we begin the next stretch of our journey. Keep us under your caring wing for the rest of our voyage, shielding us from the dangers of the desert. In the Creator’s name, femun.”
“Femun,” they all repeated.
After they all sat down, Bella began passing out the rough wooden platters that they ate off of every evening, while Bellirn followed behind her, sliding a pigeon off the spit and onto their expectant plate. The meat was cooked to perfection, courtesy of Lilten’s excellent culinary skills. Spirit looked the bird over for several moments, admiring the skillfully seared meat before his hunger got the best of him and he began tearing it apart with his knife.
The circle was quiet for several minutes as everyone dug happily into their food. Around halfway through the meal, Bellirn cleared his throat.
“So, we all know the plan right?”
Spirit and the others groaned loudly in mock annoyance. “I think we know the plan by know Bellirn,” the boy said teasingly. “You’ve gone over it about a hundred times.”
Bellirn shrugged apologetically. “It’s better we know it by heart then someone forget and all of us pay. Let’s go over it one more time. At every oasis…”
They all answered in monotone. “We draw water for the horses to drink before replenishing our supplies.”
“As for food…”
“We only take from the rations if we can’t hunt for our own food.”
“Good. And the golden rule is…”
“Stick together and don’t wander off.”
Bellirn nodded, apparently satisfied. “Excellent. Anyone have anything to add?”
Lilten spoke up from beside Bella. “It’s always a good idea to tie down the flaps on the wagons as much as possible. The sand blows in pretty easily.” The others murmured their assent. Normally they just left the flaps hanging over the doorway, making it easier to get in and out. But with the soon-to-be-frequent sandstorms, tying them up would become a necessity.
Bellirn smiled, obviously pleased someone else was taking a part in his lecture. “Good idea Lilten. Anyone else?” He looked around at the others, who were studiously avoiding his gaze. When no one else spoke up, he nodded again. “Excellent.”
As the others started back up their interrupted conversations, Bellirn turned to Spirit. “Now, the others already know what I’m about to tell you, so this is purely for your benefit.”
Spirit sat up straight, his insatiable curiosity aroused.
As he spoke, Bellirn’s eyes acquired a dead look, as if remembering something incredibly painful. “I’m sure you’ve heard the others talk about how brutal the beasts in the desert are, right? But you have no way of knowing just how serious this is. The animals in desert are incredibly vicious, far worse than that bleak-wraith back in the woods.”
Spirit shuddered at the memory of the horrible grey monster that had very nearly killed him. He’d had nightmares about the encounter for several days afterwards.
Bellirn continued. “In the desert, the only rule is there are no rules. It’s kill or be killed, and the beasts there are exceptional at what they do. I know you’re an extremely competent fighter, but if you meet a wild animal on this trip, your best bet would be to find one of us.” He put a thin hand on Spirit’s shoulder. “The last thing I want is to see you get hurt. Do you understand me?”
Spirit nodded, taken aback by the concern coloring the elf’s voice. “Is that how you got your scars?” He gestured at Bellirn’s back.
The elf grimaced. “I got overconfident, thought I could take a midnight walk by myself. If I had been a second slower…” Bellirn lapsed into a moody silence, lost in the memory.
Spirit fidgeted uncomfortably, waiting for Bellirn to say something else. But all he did was stare at the ground, his eyes unfocused, his mind far away in another time. Hesitantly, Spirit asked, “Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?”
Bellirn started and looked at Spirit. He managed a wan smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to drift off on you.”
“It’s fine. Is there anything else you wanted to say?”
He shook his head. “No. I just wanted you to be forewarned.”
“Ok.” Spirit turned back to his now-cold pigeon, feeling as if a lead weight had been dropped into his stomach. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore. Grimacing, he set his plate on the ground beside him and leaned back on his palms.
Bellirn was perfectly within rights to be concerned for him, but that didn’t mean he could treat him like a child! And as for the order—for that’s certainly what Bellirn had intended it to be—to run and get the others if he encountered a wild beast, that was completely outrageous! Spirit had been training with Kelken for over a month now. He could hit almost any target you cared to name, and he had already progressed to moving targets. Plus he had his fire abilities. Surely he could watch out for himself in a fight? But no! Bellirn wanted him to go off running and screaming like a ninny, pleading for the others to protect him.
Spirit snorted quietly. If Bellirn thought Spirit was going to agree to that, he was sorely mistaken. Besides, he doubted he could outrun any of the predators in that barren wasteland. If they could chase down a fully-grown elf man, he had no chance trying to run from them.
* * *
After the meal, they scoured their plates clean without water, not wanting to waste any of the precious liquid. Lilten buried the bones outside the camp while everyone else stumbled sleepily into their wagons. Everyone except Spirit.
While everyone else had been finishing the final scraps of their food, Spirit had wandered off to a small hill, just a few minutes walk from the caravan. There he sat, struggling to puzzle out his confused feelings. It seemed like forever ago that he had stood by the edge of the pool with Elissay, more embarrassed then he had ever been in his life.
He sighed heavily. That was another confusing situation. What was going on with him? He had played blastball in nothing but his pants in front of dozens of people back home, and he hadn’t felt a thing! Yet standing there, just the two of them… Ugh! he thought. What is happening to me? He flopped onto his back, letting his breath out in an irritated huff.
Unbidden, an image of Drac and Reorin floated to the fore-front of his mind. Their happy expressions as they gazed at each other, quietly holding hands in the darkness. Holding hands… He froze, a thought suddenly occurring to him. Could I… no. No way.
But his brain ignored his frantic protests. Despite his attempts to ignore his traitorous mind, memories rose to the surface like bubbles from the deep: him standing by the pool, mortified and yet secretly happy she could see how strong he was becoming; at dinner, the electricity that surged through his body when Elissay’s soft, thin fingers slipped around his tough, calloused ones; his joy at the smile on her face when they held hands, him wishing it would never end…
No! With a vigorous shake of his head, he shattered the train of thought like a fragile pane of glass. I can’t fall in love with her. She’s like, a hundred times my age! And immortal for that matter. Nothing could start there and you know it Spirit, so quit mooning after her like some lovesick puppy! She’s an elf, he told himself sternly, as if this final statement summed it all up. He knew it was a simple, logical conclusion, and yet for some reason it made him feel even worse.
Groaning, he covered his face with his hands. “Why does it have to be so complicated,” he grumbled to the stars.
They didn’t answer, just shone back at him, twinkling gently up there on the roof of the world. The scrublands around Spirit shone like silver in the light of the moon, so clear in the desert sky. A gentle wind blew across the plain, ruffling Spirit’s hair and sending little cyclones of dust spinning off the ground.
Absently, Spirit summoned fire to his hands, wreathing them in scarlet flames. Every time he did it, it became easier. Calling fire to him had become effortless, almost instinctual. At times the power he wielded scared him, and other times it invigorated him. Many things have changed, he thought to himself, swirling his iridescent hand through air.
He lay there until the moon shone high in the heavens above him. Then he rose and trudged tiredly back to camp. The others had long since turned in for the night, so the camp was still and quiet when he entered the circle. The ashes in the pit barely flickered when he walked past. He smiled slightly at what a grim indicator that was of his mood.
Stifling a yawn, Spirit pulled back the flap doorway and crawled into Bellirn’s wagon. Bellirn was curled up on his cot, snoring. Despite his bleak mindset, Spirit couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the elf’s pig-like snorts. Mood lightened somewhat, Spirit pulled off his boots and shirt, laid them by the doorway and collapsed onto his bedroll. Sighing, he slowly fell into a fitful slumber. Even in sleep his fears would not relinquish their hold, and his dreams were filled with ferocious beasts chasing him, and Elissay staring at him, a question on her lips that he could never hear.
This chapter is too short. O.o
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