Chapter 2 #3
Cerise groaned, squeezing her eyes shut to stamp down the urge to rage, to shout and kick the errant pieces of wood, imagining how satisfying the sound of splintering wood would be, mimicking the thunderous anger in her chest.
A low grumble and gust of hot breath pushed against her. Cerise’s eyes shot open, the bear breaching her space, lumbering toward the fallen wood.
Swinging a hand to Beloved’s shaft, ready to swipe around into the bear’s flesh, she said, “You better watch yourself, beast.”
It huffed, dismissing her, and batted a paw at the nearest wood block, rolling it back to the pile.
The scent of fish guts filled the air as Eirwen cleaned the bear’s offerings.
Cerise quivered in place as her body threatened to collapse, but she didn’t want to sit down until she was certain the bear wouldn’t lunge at her.
She remained frozen in place, hand on Beloved, gaze fixed on the creature that rolled each piece of wood back to its rightful place.
Using its jaws, the beast stacked the pile once more, each block precisely balanced.
It even tossed a fresh log into the flames before returning to the far side of the mantle and flopping to the ground again, closing its eyes with a contented sigh.
Leaning on Beloved, Cerise lowered herself to the floor, keeping a wary eye on the beast. It saw she was hurting and decided to help her.
Or perhaps it simply wanted the fire higher so it could curl against its heat.
Yet, if that were true, it wouldn’t have needed to restack the pile of fallen logs.
Perhaps the kindness was a manipulation.
Or maybe Eirwen was right. Maybe the creature wasn’t evil at all.
Perhaps whoever carved the runes into Azkanix’s bones was the same one who carved into the bear’s flesh, laying some sort of spell on it. But what could the curse be?
A grumbly hum escaped Cerise’s throat, a soft pity growing under the hard shell around her heart as she observed the resting creature. Yet still, there was something about its strange, pink eyes that kept her uneasy. Something familiar that pricked at the back of her memory she couldn’t place.
She reflected on her time in Vhypael’s Temple and Zyrdriel’s Order. Recalled every cleric, soldier, commander, and enemy that she could, but none of the faces conjured in her mind had pink eyes.
Perhaps it was a symptom of the runes.
No, there was something else lost to her memory.
Eirwen sat between Cerise and the bear, sliding fillets of fish on a grate that sat over the fire’s flames.
Her sister tucked her long white hair behind an ear and rolled Cerise’s left pant leg up, slow and delicate, revealing the swollen knee.
Without a word, Eirwen pressed her chilly, slender fingers into the ache and summoned her magic, pulling the cold from Cerise.
The bear flicked open its eerie eyes, paws under its jaw, watching frost form on Eirwen’s fingertips then melt away.
With her muscles and nerves relaxing, the pain ebbing away, Cerise said, “I shouldn’t have—”
“I was a child,” Eirwen snapped, keeping her gaze on Cerise’s leg.
“I know,” she replied through gritted teeth. “If you’d let me finish, I was going to say I shouldn’t have said what I did. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was. I just don’t want it to happen to you ever again.”
Eirwen sighed, shoulders slumping. “My ever vigilant, stalwart protector. But Cerise, not everything in this world is evil. You must give some things a chance.”
“If you’d brought a big, snuggly rabbit into our house that’d be one thing. A bear is a little more difficult to innately trust.”
The bear grumbled, as if in reluctant agreement.
Eirwen briefly smiled before her brows arched with concern. “The swelling isn’t going down.”
Cerise looked at her muscled and scarred leg, an ache persisting in her knee from the overexertion of the day, skin bulbous around the joint.
“There’s a small bottle of Idle Lily’s Honey left; I can get it if—”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“But, Cerise—”
“I said no.” Cerise tensed from jaw to toe at the thought of it touching her body. She’d seen the damage it could do.
Eirwen sighed again but didn’t respond as she rolled Cerise’s pants back down. Flicking the last traces of ice from her fingers, she ran her hand through the bear’s pelt.
A brief burst of envy seared through Cerise at the ease with which Eirwen trusted it.
She remembered the soft warm fur beneath her hand this morning, the steady reassurance it brought in the few precious moments before she found the rune.
How nice it would be to feel the comfort of living warmth, rather than what was brought from the flames or dead animals’ hides.
It would take more than one day for her to trust this creature. And she needed answers about the runes before she could even consider it. But perhaps they could cordially coexist, for now.
“Bear,” Cerise locked eyes with the beast, feeling idiotic for speaking to it, despite the evidence it understood. “If you remain peaceful and continue to bring us uncorrupted food, you can share our hearth. But one paw or tooth out of line, and Beloved will rip through your neck. Understood?”
It huffed, then once again covered its snout with its paws.
Good enough.
Eirwen smiled, and it was brighter than the fire’s flickering flames.