14. Chapter 14 #2
The corner of his lip quirked and her glare deepened. “We should make it to Brackenford within the first couple of days. We’ll see how eager you are to sleep on the ground again when you wake up tomorrow morning.”
He felt her eyes on his back as he nudged his horse ahead of hers, like two tiny knives sliding between his ribs.
As the hours passed, Vaelin felt his irritability grow at the clawing closeness of the forest. Even the wind in this realm felt stunted, its path broken by tree trunks and leafy canopies that stood in the way of its wildness.
His mood was not helped by the healer’s numerous stops at the edge of the trail to pluck some leaf or berry that had caught her eye.
The third time it happened, he loosed a sigh that threatened to rattle the trees themselves.
“Careful,” she said quietly, without looking up. “You do that any louder and you might hurt yourself.”
As the sun sank on the horizon, he glanced at the girl, marking the way she shifted in the saddle, betraying her discomfort.
He could practically feel the waves of fatigue listing off of her, despite her best efforts at feigning otherwise.
She’d been subtly fidgeting this past hour, shifting the straps of the harness that held her sword in place, strapped over nothing more than a thin tunic.
With the summer humidity, her skin would likely be rubbed raw before the end of the day.
He shook his head irritably. Had she simply come to the inn to tell him she’d intended to travel, he would have recommended more appropriate clothing.
“We’ll make camp here,” he said.
“The sun hasn’t even set yet,” she argued.
He blinked. “Would you rather collect firewood and hunt for food in the dark?”
She flushed, pursing her lips, but said nothing.
He swung a leg over his saddle, landing lightly on his feet before leading his gelding off the trail to the grassy outskirts of a small clearing.
With deft practice, he pulled off the saddle and hobbled the gelding, clapping him on the shoulder in gratitude.
He glanced to his right, where the healer was seeing to her own horse, her slow, stiff movements giving away her discomfort.
Natural rider or no, they had ridden a long a distance today.
Her muscles were surely screaming for relief.
He turned, setting off into the trees in search of firewood.
Half an hour later, he huffed in annoyance at the stubborn branches that refused to catch fire. A small scoff had him turning to fix the healer with a glare. She stood with her arms crossed, shaking her head, an amused smile dancing on her lips. Irritation flared as he ground his teeth. “What?”
“That oak will never burn,” she said as she moved to the edge of the clearing, gathering several pale branches of her own from the forest floor.
He frowned. “Oak has always burned for me before.”
“For you?” Isla asked, “Or for a firewielder?”
He opened his mouth to argue, but then paused, as if struck. All the times he and Evric had made camp, it had indeed been his friend who had lit and stoked the fires, regardless of who gathered the tinder. Isla scoffed and his frown deepened.
“What do you have against the fae?” he asked, failing to quash his irritation. Already, he was growing tired of her fae prejudice and personal brand of superiority.
Isla huffed a dark laugh as she approached, now with a bundle of her own firewood tucked under an arm.
She kicked his kindling to the edge of the clearing, arranging her own in its place.
“Take your pick. You manipulate the elements — and people. You bend the earth to your will because you can, and then wonder why it snaps.” She shook her head, pulling a flint from her pocket as she squatted next to the pyre.
“You burn wood that isn't meant to burn, quell waters that are meant to churn, force winds where the air should be still—”
“And how is that any different from what humans do?“ he interrupted.
Her green eyes pierced him. “Excuse me?”
“Your people tear up the earth to plant crops that don't grow there naturally. You raid the forests for herbs, ripping them from their natural habitat. You hunt the wildlife for meat and make clothing of their hides. You weave your homes, your infrastructure in and around nature, yes — but those homes are still made from trees that had to be felled, from rock that had to be split.”
She stared at him for a moment. Blinked. “It’s not the same.”
Vaelin frowned, suppressing a twitch of annoyance as a flame began to curl instantly before her.
“Pine,” she advised, not bothering to hide her smugness. “Ideal for kindling. It burns fast and hot, because of the resin.”
He ignored the agricultural lesson. “How can you justify hating an entire people so vehemently, when you clearly know next to nothing about them?”
Isla blinked, something he couldn’t place flashing across her face as she turned to face to the fire. “I know enough,” she said, eyes flashing in the light of the climbing flames.
Her tone was raw and something about it made him fall silent.
He crossed the clearing, lowering himself to the ground and resting his back against the large boulder where he’d left his belongings.
Grabbing a whetstone from his pack, he began to rhythmically hone the edge of his blade.
After a moment, he glanced up to where Isla sat, staring into the flames, her face drawn in an expression he couldn’t untangle.
Neither of them spoke for the rest of the night.