Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 10

I awoke to the sound of birdsong and realized that Remi was already gone. I was lethargic, heavy, despite the hollowness in my chest. I stayed in bed for some time, identifying the different warbles of the forest birds. It was my stomach that finally prodded me out of bed with its rumbling.

Food here was never scarce, and I ate my fill at every meal. I felt stronger, maybe even taller. My bones no longer poked up from beneath my skin, and my hair didn’t snap so easily. Would Meresh recognize me?

I paused in my thoughts. Was he even still alive?

Nudging that grim thought away, I pushed myself out of bed and into daylight. The deer hide dress I had arrived in had been cleaned and returned to me, but when I offered to return my borrowed clothes, Bren told me to keep them. Now I wore them all the time. Trousers protected my legs when plodding through underbrush to find hidden berries, and the shirt was so soft I would sometimes find myself stroking the material for no reason.

After scavenging the leftovers from breakfast, I resisted the urge to retreat to my room. If Remi was my crutch, and I couldn’t walk about without him, then it meant I was disabled somehow. I needed to prove to myself that I wasn’t an invalid.

I wandered down one of the numerous paths that ran through Foresthome, passing by several tradesmen working in lean-tos. Some sewed clothes, some prepared animal hides, others carved wooden tools and utensils.

I had just stepped on a small pinecone with a yelp when I heard a voice call my name. I looked around and saw an old, white-haired man bent over a small table of leather scraps. His station was out in the open instead of under a roof. He gestured with a withered hand for me to come closer.

“I heard you grunting like a piglet in the underbrush.” His voice was gruff when I expected it to be frail. “Where are your shoes, girl?”

I looked down at my bare feet. It never occurred to me to ask for shoes. These people had given me so much already. I’d been secretly healing my feet every day after returning from the forest. “I don’t have any shoes, sir.”

He waved me off with his hand. “No need to ‘sir’ me. My name is Davin. Why don’t you have any shoes?”

“I’ve never worn shoes before,” I said.

He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Never?”

I shook my head and looked away, not really wanting to explain that captives didn’t get shoes.

He harrumphed. “Plainsmen. Bunch of jackals.”

Remembering Remi’s advice to me, I resisted the urge to shy away and asked, “What are you making?”

“Why, shoes, of course! This forest will tear up your feet if you don’t protect ‘em. How is it you’re still standing?”

Maybe I should have fled after all. “Um, I have thick feet, I guess?”

He peered down at my feet again. “They look like nice feet to me. Here, take these. Should fit you nicely.”

He pushed a pair of soft hide shoes into my hands.

I stared at them.

“They’re called moccasins. Here, let me show you.”

I sat self-consciously on a nearby stump while Davin slapped dirt off the bottom of my feet and then slipped the shoes over them. “There, see? Perfect.”

I looked down at them and wiggled my toes. They were more comfortable than they looked. “Thank you, Davin. You do very nice work.”

“Bah.” He waved me off again. “An old man’s got to have something to do.”

I stood up and wiggled my toes again. Wearing shoes was an odd sensation. I took a few experimental steps, jumped up and down, then started shuffling my feet in a little dance. I must have had a silly grin on my face.

Davin laughed with delight. “Siena’s first shoes. Enchanting.”

“You’re very kind,” I said. “What can I give you in return?”

“Why don’t you come visit me tomorrow?” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “As much as I talk to these shoes, they never talk back.”

“It’s a deal,” I said, and waved him goodbye.

I continued down the path, almost skipping in my new shoes. I kicked a pinecone, on purpose this time, and did not have to wince. It was a feeling I hadn’t had since I was little, one that I could only describe as glee.

“I’ll not be planting pinecones in this garden, thank you very much.”

I paused, trying to locate the voice. I followed the path of the kicked pinecone and discovered a sizable garden nestled in between a shed and a cabin. A woman about Galen’s age was crouched over a patch of tomatoes. She wore a blue smock, her hair in a long, golden braid down her back.

She stood up when she saw me. “Well now, the two Icelings meet at last.”

I c****d my head and came closer to get a better look.

“You’re looking a sight better now than you did when you first got here,” she commented.

I smiled. “Thank you. Foresthome’s hospitality seems to suit me.”

“Look how polite you are,” she said and wiped her hands on her dress. “Come closer, and let me get a good look at you.”

She grasped my shoulders and turned me this way and that, as if examining a dress. “You are a pretty one. Then again, we Icelings have always been blessed with good looks, am I right?”

My eyebrows drew together. The Plainsmen always said I was homely, calling my blue eyes freakish.

She laughed at my confusion and dropped her hands. “How are you getting on with everyone?”

“Well, I haven’t met everyone yet, but Bren is really nice, Nirrin too. And Remi has been showing me around the forest.”

She nodded her approval. “That boy is practically a monkey.”

I giggled. “That’s what Galen said.”

Her expression changed, expectant maybe. “He did?”

I nodded, wondering at her altered demeanor, but decided to keep quiet about it. “Can he really sense danger?”

“Oh, yes.” Her smile was broad and enthusiastic. “It gives him wisdom far beyond his years. He’s handsome, don’t you think?”

I shrugged. Most of the Plainsmen warriors were bearded, making Galen not quite my type. “I suppose.”

She tilted her head. “Well, the man may not be your type of handsome, but he has more admirers than ticks on a moose.”

I wasn’t sure what a moose was, so I said, “I also met Davin. He was very kind.”

“Kind? That old badger?” Her brow lifted, and she glanced in the direction of his workstation before looking back at me. “Well, you must have quite the tender touch. I’m not sure I’ve seen him talk to anyone without the other person frowning, crying, or leaving.”

I giggled, a sound I didn’t hear often from myself, and gazed in wonder at this woman who could make me laugh.

“Oh, where are my manners? I know your name, but you don’t know mine. I’m Zelly. Have you gardened before? Would you like to help?”

I nodded, not sure if I would enjoy gardening, but eager to learn more about her.

She started pointing out the different vegetables sprouting in the rows of her garden and answering my questions about them. By mid-afternoon, the sun burned hot.

Zelly plucked the blue material off her chest and she said, “Oh, this sweat, how unbecoming. You’d think I’d be used to this heat by now.”

We retreated to the shade of the shed and sat on two stumps.

“Zelly,” I asked, “do you remember much about where you’re from?”

“I remember everything,” she said as she fanned herself. “You know, people only called us Icelings because they thought we slept inside snowbanks and lived on a desolate diet of fish and icebergs.” She chuckled to herself. “But it was beautiful, not unlike Foresthome. The woods were less dense, with lakes everywhere. And when it snowed, it was a wondrous sight.”

“It doesn’t snow much here,” I commented. “But when it does, I can’t stop watching it. The way it blankets the plains, sometimes I imagined I was on the moon.”

“It’s in our blood,” she said. “We like the cold.”

We sat in amiable silence, watching the bees hovering over the flowering plants. When I left, I promised to return the next day. I headed down to the lake, eager to see its majestic shores again. As soon as I broke through the masses of trees, I was greeted by the tranquil expanse of the lake. A smile spread across my face. This had quickly become my favorite place in Foresthome.

I walked along the edge, observing water birds floating in the center of the lake, some diving, some taking flight. I chose a secluded grassy spot by the water and lay down. Puffy white clouds drifted across the pale blue sky. It reminded me of Zelly’s eyes. I’d never met anyone other than my mother who looked anything like me. Was that why I felt kinship with her? Or was it because I missed my mother?

I frowned at the direction of my thoughts and closed my eyes against the sky, listening to the gentle lapping of the water, to the screeches of the water birds, and the whispering of the leaves as they fluttered. I felt myself expanding . . . becoming part of nature. I embraced it, holding it close to me while broadening my thoughts at the same time. Thoughts of Remi and Davin and Zelly faded away. That sense of oneness returned, the feeling that I wasn’t just a part of nature, I was nature. Lightness, as if I no longer touched the ground. As if I might be floating among the clouds in a sky the color of my eyes.

Dizziness overcame me. I pressed a hand to my forehead as the feeling of oneness slipped away. Sitting up, I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I gazed out to the birds again, trying to analyze my jumbled thoughts, but they faded away like shadows at noon.

It had to mean something.

Something good.

I just didn’t know what.