3. Chapter 3 #4
She glanced up at me, her eyes sharp and accusatory, as if she expected me to be taunting her. Then her gaze softened. “I wouldn’t mind not roaming from city to city between marks. The inns get rather same-ish in each location. I’m used to this lifestyle though.”
Behind her words, I sensed a desire there that stirred my own longing.
I had a home, but I’d wanted to share something deeper with someone for a long time now.
Yet the opportunity to date rarely emerged, and my attempts usually ended in disaster.
Some other members of the commune had either started seeing each other or had met future spouses that joined them, and envy snaked through me when I thought of their happiness. I wanted that too.
“If you wanted to amble up north with me…” I started, then hesitated.
Was offering this to someone I’d just met a good idea?
Yet, her expression was open, honest in a way I liked, and while I missed a lot of cues, my gut never steered me wrong.
“The commune where I live always has space. We’re mostly a bunch of farmers, but we have some travelers who come and go as they need to as well. ”
“Is this how elves end up in cults?” she teased, a spark returning to her dark eyes. “Because this sure feels like the introduction to a cult.”
“If it’s a cult, then we’re missing the charismatic leader,” I responded. “It’s a bunch of us bumbling around, helping each other out. We just share harvests and the majority of the farming work.”
“Let’s make it through this job first and finding Socks,” she said. “Before I start considering where I’m wandering next.”
A slight pang of disappointment filtered through me, but what had I expected? For a stranger to jump into traipsing up north with me?
“What do you do when you’re not berry farming?” she asked.
I hunched forward, picking at the dried dirt at the base of my boots.
“Truthfully, my life is a bit consumed by it. Farmer hours are early, but I love the work. Watching something grow, seeing it to fruition. My parents raised me in that life, but they’re too old to remain on the fields.
They live in a small cabin a short distance away. ”
Kali’s expression twisted. “I’m pretty sure my parents will die in the field as mercenaries, even if they’re getting sloppy in their old age.”
I wrinkled my nose. “No hanging up the towel?”
“Not without a good backup plan,” she said with a simple shrug. “And theirs went up in flames. Even having a pet is a foreign thing—couldn’t take it with me from job to job.”
I placed a hand over my chest. “No pets? What terrible existence are you trapped in?”
She smirked and shook her head. “I like the freedom, but yeah, I wish it wasn’t so lonely.”
“Wait, let me figure out what type of pet you’d have,” I said, tapping my finger against my chin. The meat seemed to be hydrated and warmed at this point, and the rich scent wafted my way, making my mouth water. Kali pulled it away from the flames. “You strike me as a bird type. Probably a corvid.”
“What, not a fluffy animal sort?” she laughed as she set the pot between us.
“Nah, you’ve got sharpness and curiosity. Plus, all dark and mysterious? Seems like a perfect fit.”
Her grin made her eyes crinkle, and the sight stole my breath away. Her dark hair framed her face, which was radiant from the flickering shadows cast by the dancing flames. Her bronze skin grew even bronzer in that light.
“Well, a pagwai seems fitting for you,” she responded, and I puffed up.
“Cozy and likes naps?” I said. “I approve.” Then I reached for a bit of the meat and popped it into my mouth. It seared against the roof, and I let out a choked noise. My mouth watered in response to getting burned, and I reached into my bag for a few more zingerberries to cool myself down.
“I did just pull it from the flames,” Kali said with an arched brow.
“I overestimated my ability to handle the heat.” I wrinkled my nose, hating the film on the roof of my mouth.
I jabbed it with my tongue a few times. Wouldn’t be the first time a light burn happened, nor would it be the last. The meat at least helped the subtle ache in my stomach, so I snagged another piece, this time blowing on it until it cooled down.
Between this and the zingerberries, we were eating pretty well for impromptu travels.
Kali popped a few pieces into her mouth, watching me with a focus that made me shiver.
I liked her eyes on me more than I cared to admit.
“Do you currently carry your whole life in your pack?” I asked, eyeing her suspiciously small bag.
I wasn’t sure I could ever pare down to that little for the long-term.
Part of living in one place meant collecting junk, which included my collection of stargazing implements.
Despite my family being from Dun Steorra, I had very little magic, which meant I was better suited to till the land.
I considered my berries my own sort of magic.
Watching them bloom each spring and ripen each harvest season caused a little sparkle inside me.
“Nah,” she said. “I’ve got drop sites in different regions with my belongings, places I’m renting to keep my stuff until I find somewhere solid.” She shifted again, staring more in depth at the fire, as if she craved the solidity I so badly wanted to offer her.
“Are most of your jobs murdery or the tracking down sort like this?” I asked, curiosity striking again.
“While I prefer not to deal in death, sometimes it’s unavoidable,” she said with a shrug. “But the life is a lot less glamorous than people think. Oftentimes, I get guard jobs or tracking down missing items.”
“Tying up and blowing random strangers,” I said with a grin. “Just the usual.”