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Authors: Ruth A. Casie
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calmly. “I saw your fire from the road. It looked inviting.”
He continued to move to the right eventually putting the campfire between them, illuminating the stranger’s face. It took a few seconds to register that he faced a woman, a fierce beautiful woman. He eased down and stirred the waning campfire back to life, sending the woman thoughts to convince her she was safe. She seemed to understand him but said and did nothing. He felt her resistance to his intrusion and realized her mind would not be easily controlled. He backed his mind away quickly and tried another approach. He emanated calm and a sense of sincere friendship so she knew there was nothing to fear. At last, she sat down, the walking staff across her lap.
“I noticed signs of a great slide up the trail. I expected it was a large rock. But I could find nothing large enough to make such destruction. Looking at you, I think I may have found the rock.” He chuckled, raising his palms to the fire for warmth even though the night was mild.
He perceived a smile in her eyes. It was a small victory but he could work with that. “I’ll make us some hot tea and I have some sweet cakes. We’ll feast as we get better acquainted.” He saw the small signs of understanding. The lure of something hot to drink and something to eat appealed to her. He watched her shoulders relax and her grip on her staff loosen. He didn’t miss the alertness in her eyes.
He felt her watch him as he went to his wagon and brought it closer to the campsite. He returned to the campfire carrying supplies.
“My name is Doward.” He handed her a small pot of salve and began preparing the tea. “Here, this will help ease those nasty scrapes.”
“I’m Rebeka Tyler.” She put her staff to the side and took the offered pot. Opening it carefully, she held it with one hand and waved her other hand over it to gather the fragrance. “Yarrow and olive oil,” she said as she dipped her finger into the pot and rubbed the cream between her index finger and thumb. “Nice consistency.” She dabbed the ointment on the scrapes, beginning with her legs.
He let out a huge breath. His eyes locked on her as he continued to make their tea. The makeshift bandage on her leg had not gone unnoticed. “How did you fall down the mountain?”
“It’s a long story.” She had already taken care of her arms with the cream and was moving on to her face.
“We’ve plenty of time.” Doward smiled warmly, handing her a sweet cake. “The tea is almost ready.”
“I was looking at the standing stones and the next thing I knew I was tumbling down a mountain.” She closed the pot and took the cake.
He read the confusion on her face. He felt it, as well. She seemed out of place. She was a bit tall for a woman but not exceedingly so. She traveled alone without any protection and she seemed capable of looking after herself although she did take a nasty fall. Her clothes, what was left of them, were strange and her speech was different, an odd hard sound. Rebeka Tyler, who are you, where are you from and what part do you play here? I sense you’re important to this problem but not its source. You are a pure light. He poured the tea and handed it to her.
“So, Doward, where are you from?” She took the tea he offered.
“I am far from my home.” He suspected she was too. “I make my livelihood as a tinker trading from village to village. Now I call each village home. They greet me like a long-lost son, celebrating my return with a feast. And like the returning son, I fill them with stories of my travels. We feast, tell stories, share news.” He took a sip of his tea.
“Are you with a festival?”
“A festival?”
“A traveling reenactment or something. I thought with your clothes and the horse and wagon there must be a reenactment nearby. You really are quite good.”
“Why, thank you.” He did not offer more information. He was putting the pieces together rather quickly.
“Doward,
He continued to move to the right eventually putting the campfire between them, illuminating the stranger’s face. It took a few seconds to register that he faced a woman, a fierce beautiful woman. He eased down and stirred the waning campfire back to life, sending the woman thoughts to convince her she was safe. She seemed to understand him but said and did nothing. He felt her resistance to his intrusion and realized her mind would not be easily controlled. He backed his mind away quickly and tried another approach. He emanated calm and a sense of sincere friendship so she knew there was nothing to fear. At last, she sat down, the walking staff across her lap.
“I noticed signs of a great slide up the trail. I expected it was a large rock. But I could find nothing large enough to make such destruction. Looking at you, I think I may have found the rock.” He chuckled, raising his palms to the fire for warmth even though the night was mild.
He perceived a smile in her eyes. It was a small victory but he could work with that. “I’ll make us some hot tea and I have some sweet cakes. We’ll feast as we get better acquainted.” He saw the small signs of understanding. The lure of something hot to drink and something to eat appealed to her. He watched her shoulders relax and her grip on her staff loosen. He didn’t miss the alertness in her eyes.
He felt her watch him as he went to his wagon and brought it closer to the campsite. He returned to the campfire carrying supplies.
“My name is Doward.” He handed her a small pot of salve and began preparing the tea. “Here, this will help ease those nasty scrapes.”
“I’m Rebeka Tyler.” She put her staff to the side and took the offered pot. Opening it carefully, she held it with one hand and waved her other hand over it to gather the fragrance. “Yarrow and olive oil,” she said as she dipped her finger into the pot and rubbed the cream between her index finger and thumb. “Nice consistency.” She dabbed the ointment on the scrapes, beginning with her legs.
He let out a huge breath. His eyes locked on her as he continued to make their tea. The makeshift bandage on her leg had not gone unnoticed. “How did you fall down the mountain?”
“It’s a long story.” She had already taken care of her arms with the cream and was moving on to her face.
“We’ve plenty of time.” Doward smiled warmly, handing her a sweet cake. “The tea is almost ready.”
“I was looking at the standing stones and the next thing I knew I was tumbling down a mountain.” She closed the pot and took the cake.
He read the confusion on her face. He felt it, as well. She seemed out of place. She was a bit tall for a woman but not exceedingly so. She traveled alone without any protection and she seemed capable of looking after herself although she did take a nasty fall. Her clothes, what was left of them, were strange and her speech was different, an odd hard sound. Rebeka Tyler, who are you, where are you from and what part do you play here? I sense you’re important to this problem but not its source. You are a pure light. He poured the tea and handed it to her.
“So, Doward, where are you from?” She took the tea he offered.
“I am far from my home.” He suspected she was too. “I make my livelihood as a tinker trading from village to village. Now I call each village home. They greet me like a long-lost son, celebrating my return with a feast. And like the returning son, I fill them with stories of my travels. We feast, tell stories, share news.” He took a sip of his tea.
“Are you with a festival?”
“A festival?”
“A traveling reenactment or something. I thought with your clothes and the horse and wagon there must be a reenactment nearby. You really are quite good.”
“Why, thank you.” He did not offer more information. He was putting the pieces together rather quickly.
“Doward,
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