Chapter 5 Ashwiyaa
Chapter five
Ashwiyaa
“You are the dream, the nightmare, and the dream within the nightmare that becomes a dream.”
It’s four a.m. and I still haven’t fallen asleep.
I’ve managed to count the number of crickets outside as I watch the shadow of the closest tree move across the ceiling.
Gently, I shift my position and fix my gaze on Kai’s peaceful form.
One of his arms rests on the pillow above his head, while the other lies on his abdomen.
I am mesmerized by the sight of his perfectly sculpted eight-pack, a view that is truly delectable.
He hasn’t shaved in a while, and a light stubble is starting to form, which I find incredibly attractive.
I lightly brush my fingertips over the roughness, enjoying the sensation.
Kai mumbles something incoherent and rolls toward me.
His arm instinctively wraps around me and drags me into his body.
Nestling into his warm chest, I feel my heart melting with each beat.
Every slow, measured breath I take lifts the weight of the world off my shoulders, making my eyes grow heavy with a sense of calm, and I let out a sigh of relief.
He has always had this effect on me, the calm to my storm.
“Pater!” I cry, running as fast as I can toward the temporary village.
In the distance, I spot my family’s shelter, where my father is already carefully removing the drumhorn hides.
The moment has come for us to begin our journey as we prepare to follow the drumhorn and migrate with the herd. They are powerful beasts with thunderous steps and curved horns—shaggy creatures native to windswept plains.
“Pater!” I yell.
My father turns to see me, and his face lights up with a smile, but it quickly fades when he sees the expression on my face.
“Ashwiyaa?”
I dive into my father’s arms just as the pounding of feet approaches from behind.
I cry, nuzzling my face into his clothes, finding a small measure of comfort in their familiar texture and scent.
But fear and panic take hold because I know what is about to happen.
Slowly my father guides me behind him as he addresses the warriors who were hunting by the river.
The warriors who saw me. My bottom lip trembles as I grasp my father’s shirt, too afraid to face the four warriors.
“Cheveyo, what is this about?”
“The child was seen doing magic.”
I can’t help but flinch at the sharpness of his tone, the anger practically dripping from his words.
The sound of approaching footsteps has me glancing up to see my mother’s worried expression as she makes her way toward us.
“Kale?” She says my father’s name with uncertainty.
“Mater!” I cry, running into my mother’s outstretched arms.
Scooping me up, she runs her hand soothingly over my face as she stops next to my father. I breathe in her comforting scent, her long black hair braided on either side of her face, two eagle feathers woven in.
“There must be some mistake. Ashwiyaa holds no magic,” my father says.
“We all saw her!” snaps Cheveyo.
A murmur of agreement rings through the small group.
“She is only five. How can she wield magic this young?” my mother says pleadingly.
“The chief will assess her immediately,” Cheveyo says. “We will take you there.”
Terror fills my stomach, and I begin to feel ill, like I’ve eaten a poison berry.