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By Michele aka Ygraul Verdemorte |
Chapter 13. Parting |
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riel hesitated on the icy steps outside the alehouse as she gazed down at Morisedd perched there, his hands busily whittling a piece of red and gold cedar wood into the shape of a sitting wolf. He worked by the light that shafted through the public house’s windows. In the mountains the sun did not linger and night had come quickly at the end of their trek to Borlis Pass. Two flagons of mulled wine steamed in her hands and she waited until he scooted to one side, reluctantly, to make room for her. He set aside his knife and received her offering. She had waited for him to join them inside where it was warm if a little raucous with the dwarves and Lemony singing at the top of their lungs. Instead, she had paid the pub keeper in advance for a spot on the common room floor for the four of them and went looking for the ranger with a hot drink. He would need one after their long cold march from Yak’s Bend. Still saying nothing and barely acknowledging her, Morisedd took a long swallow, savoring its heat as his breath rolled in slow tendrils from his rugged nose. She huddled in her traveling cloak beside him, aware of the cold of the stone step seeping through her clothing. Her own tankard of wine steamed beside her and she reached for Morisedd’s gloved hand tentatively. She searched his face, trying to gauge his mood but his rough features were inscrutable. Wind ruffled the fur trim of his cloak against his shaven jaw and shifted the thick brown ponytail that was tied as his nape. It trailed raggedly down to the base of his curved back and a few stray twigs and leaves were tangled in it. Normally she would have obsessively picked them out of his hair, but not tonight. “I’m done,” he said, his voice husky after a day of silence. She took his left hand into her lap as if it were a precious thing and clasped it between her dainty fingers, afraid of where the conversion had started. “I love you,” she said bluntly, “that has never changed.” “But only as a friend,” he replied, cutting her off, “as if a friend were inferior in some way. Those other men. What were they to you, I wonder?” “They were rubbish on legs,” she said bitterly, “and nothing I do will wash their taint from me. You I have always loved, Morisedd.” “You are not the woman I loved in the beginning,” he replied, “and I’m tired of trying to guess what happened to you in Orr…” “…And I have told you I cannot discuss it. Not right now,” Uriel soothed, still afraid that the transfer of the curse was not permanent. She dared not undo her diligent work with a careless word. Not until she was certain it belonged entirely to Pendaran. Even at the best of times, Morisedd was a man of few words and he grew increasingly anxious when he started letting down his defenses and talking openly to her. She loved him precisely because he was so vulnerable and sweet beneath his rugged exterior and she honored his need to protect that part of himself. His visage was strained now with the effort of maintaining his composure. He extracted his hand from her clasp and took up his whittling knife. She watched his hands and fingers gouge and smooth the soft wood, bringing forth details of fur and eyes. When she looked into his rugged face, it was awash with tears, his pain spilling over at last. “I have waited a long time. A very long time, Uriel.” “I know.” “I’m leaving.” “I want you to stay,” she murmured, her vision of him blurred by an onrush of unfamiliar tears. The curse had hardened her, forcing her to accept the cruelty that sometimes spilled from her mouth and poisoned those she cared about. “I have tried to do what you want,” he rasped, his hand clenching around the wolf until his knuckles were white, “but I get nothing in return.” “I know. I’m sorry, Morisedd. I never wanted to hurt you.” He put away the knife and shouldered his belongings. Without another word, he strode into the night and vanished from her life. In his place the little carved wolf sat with its head bowed mournfully, its blank eyes staring after its departed creator.
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