Chapter 2
" L or," my grandmother called from her garden as I approached our little cottage. A smile tugged at my lips as I veered slightly left onto the narrow dirt path, the gateway to her sanctuary.
I found her towards the center, her hands working deftly to pick tiny blue blooms from the bed she knelt before, her basket overflowing with freshly gathered herbs at her side. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the leaves above, dancing across her silver hair as butterflies and bees lazily drifted between the fragrant blooms surrounding her.
"Grandmother," I said, coming to a stop before her. She looked up, and I froze. Her face bore a resignation I'd only witnessed at funerals or when someone sought her aid for a grave illness. My heart clenched, a cold weight settling in my chest.
She waved me off. "I just needed ya to help an old bat up. Wrenched my ankle on that blasted rock," she gestured at a large stone near her basket, "and thought I'd finish picking these elder blooms while I waited for ya to return." She plucked a final bloom, brushed her soil-stained hands on her apron, and reached towards me, her weathered hand extending toward mine.
I helped lift her up, bringing my shoulder under her arm to steady her. We took small steps towards the front door, her botanical treasures gripped in her free hand. Even with support, she winced with each step. Once I got her inside, I eased her into our kitchen, to a wooden chair at our little table.
"Get me a bowl and some water and jars so I can start on these, would ya dear?"
I nodded and started pulling the items she needed, setting them before her. She began sorting through her harvest, meticulously separating each plant, her practiced fingers sorting chamomile from elderflower with swift precision. The mingled scent of earth and herbs filled our small kitchen, a gentler echo of her garden's wild perfume.
"I need ya to go into town," she said suddenly. I halted as water splashed into the bowl before me, my hand frozen mid-pour. She'd never let me leave the vicinity of our little village, the surrounding woods marking the boundary of my permitted wanderings. It's not safe, girl. Dangers lurk at every corner. I just want ya to be safe - her constant refrain whenever I mentioned traveling. Truth be told, few ventured to the next town over. Most relied on our regular merchant for trade, but he hadn't been seen in over a fortnight. I stopped the water's flow, wiped the bowl's sides clean, and placed it on the table before her.
"You're allowing me to leave?" I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. The countless nights I'd spent dreaming of far-off worlds and captivating adventures could fill volumes, each one ending with the bittersweet knowledge that my life would never reach such greatness. "What changed to make it safe now?" I asked, my fingers fidgeting with my shirt hem.
She sighed as she continued to sort through her herbs. "Sometimes fate has other plans. I couldn't get out of my garden on my own, much less travel over to Willowbrook. That blasted merchant hasn't been around for weeks. I need ya to fetch me some supplies from the apothecary there. Won't take more than a day to get there and back." She rummaged around in her apron until she found a crumpled piece of parchment. With shaking hands, she placed the list of items and a pouch of coins before me. "For the love of the old gods, be careful, girl. And take the lad with you—your wandering feet have gotten you lost in our own backyard."
I nodded, snatched my bag, and hurried out the door, grateful for the early success of my morning hunt and the abundant daylight ahead. My feet carried me through the village in search of Ma?l. The memory of Lydia's accusations about my "chasing" Ma?l surfaced unbidden. Her words had planted seeds of doubt that sprouted into thorny questions: Would he side with her? Was he simply too kind to push me away? Did our friendship mean as much to him as it did to me?
I spotted Ma?l with the blacksmith, the ends of his brown hair damp from training. He was bent over studying a blade when I approached them. The heat from the forge had left a sheen of sweat on his neck, the muscles in his arms taut as he examined the weapon's edge.
"Twice in one day, Lor, are you finally ready for our next sparring match?" He flashed a cocky smirk my way as he set the sword down.
I huffed, "Not unless you plan on a fair fight." The dirty cheat kicked dirt in my face and took me down at the knees last time. I hadn't sparred with him since, mostly on principle. "I need you to escort me to Willowbrook."
"Willowbrook? Eleni is letting you out of her sight?" His brow furrowed, his expression mirroring the disbelief churning in my own gut. Even if it was a short distance.
"We're going on her orders," I grabbed his arm and started pulling him to the main village gate. "Now come on, we've got to get going."
He pulled his arm free and crossed both in front of his chest. "And why should I risk life and limb for your grandmother's errands?"
I groaned in exasperation. "Come on, Ma?l. Everyone else has seen beyond these trees except me. Even you've been to Willowbrook before."
I didn't wait for his response. Permission or not, I was going.
His rich laugh warmed the air as he fell into step beside me. "If you think Willowbrook counts as an adventure, you really need to get out more." His teasing only made my heart flutter traitorously in my chest, a reaction I desperately tried to ignore. His long legs had him caught up to me within a few paces. He took a hand and ruffled the top of my hair, "But who am I to refuse the great Eleni's summons?"
"Demand is more like it..."
"Tomato, potato," he waved me off with a hand, "Just try to keep up and stay close. I'm not wasting my afternoon hunting for you in the woods."
"If I get lost, and that's a big if," I stuck my tongue out at him.
He nudges me with his shoulder as we enter the woods, "With you Lor, it's always when. When you get lost, I'll lead you home." The ancient trees loomed before us, their gnarled branches reaching to the sky like grasping fingers. Dappled sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting an ethereal glow on the moss-covered forest floor.
Excitement thrummed through my veins, threatening to burst free like wildfire through dry brush.
Willowbrook made our village look like a child's toy, unfurling before us like a living tapestry. Stone and timber buildings marched in neat rows along the paved streets. Gardens overflowed with late summer blooms, while rainbow-hued laundry danced on lines above. Children darted between market-goers like mischievous sprites, their laughter carried on the breeze.
The market square opened before us like a jewel box.
Navy and violet banners adorned each shop front, embroidered with silvery crescent moons and twinkling stars. The square pulsed with an energy so different from our sleepy village center.
Merchants called their wares while townspeople haggled and gossiped at every stall.
Spices and fresh-baked bread perfumed the air, making my stomach growl as we wandered the market.
Wooden stalls crowded the cobblestone path, pressed against a line of weathered stone shops.
I couldn't help but smile as I stopped to look at the trinkets. Ma?l's attention caught on a weapons vendor displaying an array of deadly-looking blades, including some I'd never seen before - perfectly circular and gleaming.
"An Esmeranian specialty," the old man said with pride, "they're meant to be thrown, faster than an arrow and as sharp as any blade."
I watched Ma?l turn the weapon in his hands, admiring how his fingers traced the deadly edge. He bargained like a seasoned merchant, all easy charm and calculated pauses.
We'd stepped into a world that felt alien, yet oddly alluring. It wasn't just Willowbrook; it was the way people interacted with each other. Something inside me ached for this to be our reality.
In my mind's eye, I saw us here - sharing drinks at the tavern, breaking warm bread from the bakery, our lives woven into the fabric of this place. Under the sprawling willow tree in the market's heart, we could share meals and spin stories about the travelers passing through, imagining their destinations and the tales they carried.
My chest tightened with wanting - for him, for this life, for all the possibilities that seemed forever just beyond my grasp.
Ma?l caught me staring at him and gave me a lopsided grin. "What were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
I blushed fiercely, feeling my cheeks burn under his gaze. "Nothing," I muttered, looking away.
He laughed, the sound warm and rich, as he caught my hand and drew me near. His scent of leather and pine washed over me, the late summer breeze carrying whispers of metal and sun warmed skin. The heat of his palm against mine made my breath catch, a dangerous dance of friendship and something more.
"Come on," he said, "let's head over to the apothecary for your grandmother."
His calloused fingers threaded through mine, each point of contact sending sparks racing along my skin as we made our way to the apothecary. My heart fluttered beneath my ribs, every nerve ending alive to the rough warmth of his palm against mine, the gentle sweep of his thumb across my knuckles making my breath catch in my throat.
He saw me to the shop's entrance, making some excuse about another errand. I tried not to wonder if he was off to examine more weapons or if the tavern's warmth - and its patrons - had caught his eye.
I forced the jealous thoughts away, clinging instead to the lingering warmth of his touch and the impossible dreams it sparked.