SOMETHING MORE VIII
892 Words
“Yurga!”
“Chrysididae!”
The young woman standing next to the gate ran, stumbling and crying out, hair flying, to Yurga who tossed the rains to his servant and leapt out of the cart toward his wife. He took her by the waist, energized, lifted her and whirled.
“I'm back, Chrysididae! I'm back!”
“Yurga!”
“I'm back! Throw the doors open wide! The master of the house has returned!”
Surprised in the middle of doing laundry, Chrysididae was wet and smelled of soapy water. Yurga set her back down without releasing her. She remained in his arms, trembling, pressed tight against him.
“Come with me to the house, Chrysididae.”
“By the gods, you returned... I couldn't sleep... Yurga... I couldn't even sleep...”
“I'm back. Hey, I'm back! I've even come back rich, Chrysididae! You see the cart? Hey, Profit! c***k the whip, go through the gate! You see the cart, Chrysididae? It carries a lot of things...”
“Yurga, what do I care about your cart? You've come back... in good health... whole...”
“I came back rich, I tell you. Come see...”
“Yurga? And him, who is he? The one dressed in black? By the gods, with a sword...”
The merchant turned. Dismounting, the witcher pretended, with his back turned, to settle the cinches and adjust the saddle of his horse. He did not look up and he did not approach.
“I'll tell you later. Oh, Chrysididae, as long as... Tell me, where are the children? They're in good health?”
“They're in good health, Yurga, in good health. They went out to the fields to shoot crows. The neighbors will tell them to come home. They'll turn up right away, all three...”
“All three? What's... Chrysididae? You can...”
“No... but I must tell you something... you won't get angry?”
“Me? With you?”
“I adopted a little girl, Yurga. The druids took her in...You know, the ones who saved the lives of children after the war... They gathered them up in the forests, the lost and abandoned kids... barely alive... Yurga? Are you angry?”
Yurga slapped his hand to his forehead and turned around. The witcher walked behind the cart, leading his horse. Avoiding their gaze, he kept turning his head.
“Yurga?”
“Oh, by the gods,” groaned the merchant. “By the gods, Chrysididae! Something that I didn't expect! At home!”
“Don't be angry, Yurga... You'll see that you'll grow to love her. She's a smart little girl, friendly, hardworking... a little strange, it's true. She refused to say where she was from and then started to cry. So I don't ask her questions. Yurga, you know how much I've always wanted to have a little girl... What do you think?”
“Nothing,” he replied softly. “Nothing. It's destiny.” All along the way, he kept repeating the word feverishly: “Destiny, destiny... By the gods... we aren't capable of understanding what it is, Chrysididae. It's impossible to know the thoughts of something like that. And the dreams. We aren't capable...”
“Papa!!!”
“Nadbor! Sulik! How you've grown! Regular little bulls! Come to me...”
Yurga stopped dead when he saw the sickly little girl with her ashen hair walking slowly behind the boys. The little girl looked at him. The merchant noticed the large green eyes like spring grass and bright as two stars. He saw her suddenly pick up speed and run...
He heard her cry out in a shrill and piercing voice:
“Geralt!”
The witcher turned instantly and rushed to meet the young girl. The scene left Yurga speechless. He had never seen anyone move so fast.
They met in the middle of the yard: the little girl with ashen hair surrounded by a gray dress; the white-haired witcher with his sword on his shoulder, dressed in black leather studded with silver; bounding lightly; the little girl trotting; the witcher kneeling; the tiny hands of the little girl around his neck; the mouse-gray hair of the girl falling on the witcher's shoulders. Chrysididae gave a muffled scream. Yurga drew her to him without saying a word and took her in his arms. His other arm hugged the two boys.
“Geralt!” the little girl repeated, hugging the witcher's chest. “You've found me! I knew it! I always knew! I knew you'd find me!”
“Ciri,” the witcher said.
Yurga didn't see Geralt's face, hidden by the little girl's ashen hair. He only saw black-gloved hands squeezing Ciri's back and shoulders.
“You've finally found me! Oh, Geralt! I waited all this time! It took so long... We'll stay together now, won't we? Now we'll be together, right? Say it, Geralt! Forever! Say it!”
“Forever, Ciri.”
“It's just like they predicted, Geralt! Like they predicted... I'm your destiny? Say it! I'm your destiny?”
Yurga saw astonishment in the eyes of the witcher. He heard Chrysididae's discreet sobs and felt her shoulders trembling. He knew that he would not understand the answer, but he waited anyway. With good reason:
“You're more than that, Ciri. More than that.”
- Writer
