Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 11

Before I left the lake, I noticed some tall plants growing near the water’s edge with long, flat fronds. An idea popped into my head, and I gathered an armload to take back to my cabin.

I spent the rest of the day and part of the night weaving and shaping, pausing only to eat. In the morning I continued my work, obsessively determined to finish. When I finally did, I held both hats in my hands, a tired smile on my face. I put one on. The frayed edges dangled and bobbed as I moved, but the hat held together and didn’t poke my head.

It was already mid-day by the time I inhaled breakfast and made my way to Davin’s little outdoor work space. I found him bent over his table, cutting strips of hide with a knife. He looked up as I approached, and a smile broke out on his lined face.

“I was beginning to think you’d welched on our deal!” He set his knife aside.

“I was working on something,” I said and produced one of the hats.

“Well, what have we here?” He took the hat and examined it. “Fine workmanship, quite fine.”

“It’s yours.”

He peered up at me, brown eyes studying my face for signs of a joke.

“I-I made it for you,” I stuttered, worrying that maybe he didn’t like it, or had no need for it. Maybe it was a stupid idea to begin with.

He pulled the hat over his thinning hair and dipped his head from side to side. “A fine hat, a fine hat. How could you have known I wanted one?”

“You did?” I grinned and fiddled with the brim of the other hat. “Well, I noticed everyone else had a roof to work under, and you didn’t. So I thought maybe a hat would be nice.”

He nodded, adjusted his hat, and said, “A more considerate person I never did meet. You’ve just made an old man’s day. Tell me, how did you get to be so thoughtful?”

“Um . . .” He might as well have asked me how to leap to the top of a tree.

He reached for my hand and patted it. “Never mind that. How are your new shoes working out for you?”

“Oh, I love them! Thank you, Davin. They’re so comfortable, sometimes I forget I have them on. Except when I kick pinecones, then I notice how much my feet don’t hurt!”

Davin laughed, the sound thin and wheezy. “You better watch it with the kicking, or your toes will start sticking out of the holes.” He laughed again.

I smiled and sat on a stump. “How long have you been making shoes?” This time, it wasn’t an effort to make conversation.

“Oh, not long. Not in the grand scheme of things anyway. I used to be a trader, you know. Back when I was young and handsome. Back before all this tribe domination and raiding nonsense. Those were peaceful times. I’d go from tribe to tribe, trading goods, visiting people. I loved it.”

“All the tribes?” I asked, having trouble imagining the peace he described. “Even the Zurbo tribe?”

His eyes looked far away, wistful. “Especially the Zurbo tribe.”

“Really?” Now his story sounded even less believable.

He eyed me and said, “You better believe it! I loved the ladies, and in my line of work, there was never a lack of them. There was one though . . .” His eyes lost focus and his face seemed years younger as he spoke. “She was magnificent. Raven-black hair, gray eyes like granite that saw right through me. Didn’t fawn all over me like the other girls did. I was handsome, you know.”

I nodded and grinned, eager to hear more of his story. “What happened next?”

“She wouldn’t have me!”

“What?” The story was a lot less romantic than I had imagined.

“She told me I was stubborn, selfish, and a womanizer. And she was right. But get this, she also said that, deep down, I had a good heart. Can you imagine that? All that from just one look at me.”

“I don’t know about that other stuff, but she was right,” I said, glancing down at my shoes. “You do have a good heart. And it’s not that deep down.”

“Hush, girl. If rumors start spreading about me, I’ll know it was you.”

I giggled and asked, “And then what happened?”

“Well, me being the stubborn fool that I am, I kept at it. Brought her things from the other tribes that she’d never seen before. She couldn’t keep them, though. Said captives weren’t allowed.”

I blanched. “She was a captive?”

He tapped my knee. “Don’t look so surprised. Captives had a bit more freedom back then. We talked, I told her sweet things, but I don’t know. I could never read her like she could read me. Then one day she told me I couldn’t see her anymore and that was that.”

“That’s it?” I said, disappointed. “You didn’t keep trying?”

“Of course I did! That’s what it means to be stubborn. But she wouldn’t come to meet me anymore. Never explained why.” Davin’s eyes cast down for a moment. “Then there was a new chieftain and they stopped trading altogether. I wasn’t allowed to visit anymore.”

“So you never saw her again?” I tried not to pout.

“Nope. But I do carry her memory around with me. I stole a kiss once,” he said, eyes sparkling. “We’d been talking, and the moon was full, and the moment was right. I went for it, and she didn’t stop me. Not right away, anyway. It was just a kiss, but still the best night of my life.”

“So she did like you!”

“I thought so, and I still think there was something there. I just wish I knew her reasons for shutting me out.”

“It had to have been a really good reason,” I mused. “Do you think I might have known her? What was her name?”

“Nily,” he said reverently.

“Nily?” Could it be the same Nily who spoke to me that day? “And you said she had gray eyes.”

“Yep. Looked clear through to your soul, they did.”

“I think I knew her,” I said slowly, mind racing.

“What’s that now?” he asked, as if not trusting his ears.

“Nily. She spoke to me once. Back at the compound.”

I had his full attention now. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘your deeds will be remembered.’ “ I shrugged. “Whatever that means.”

“That sounds like her. Nily . . .” His eyes darted here and there, as if his mind was racing too. “How was she? Did she find a mate?”

I shifted on my seat and picked a piece of bark off the stump. “Captives don’t get mates. But other than that, she seemed well.”

“I see . . .” Davin looked like he had a thousand questions he wanted to ask me, but couldn’t decide on which one.

“She . . .” I hesitated, but he seemed to be hanging on every word. “She had a son.”

“A son.” The wrinkles on his face couldn’t hide the shock in his eyes. If he had been standing he would’ve sat down pretty hard. “She had a son . . . without a mate.”

His brows knitted together at the implications of that, and he began mumbling to himself. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about her.

“Well, I’d best be going,” I said and stood up, trying to hide my discomfort.

“Yes, of course,” he said, distracted, and went about arranging strips of leather with shaking hands.

I escaped and found a secluded tree to lean against.

I had caused Davin’s distress.

My chin dropped to my chest and I slumped against the tree. There were some things I couldn’t heal, and I had no idea what to do about them.

I took several deep breaths, shook my head, and pushed off from the tree. My melancholy steps took me to Zelly’s garden, where I found her leaning against a wooden rake, wiping her brow. She saw me and motioned me to the shaded stump with a large smile on her face.

“Perfect timing,” she said, dabbing her face with her sleeve. “It was time for a break. How are you, Siena?”

I flicked at the frayed edges of the remaining hat in my hands. “I’m okay.”

Zelly immediately noticed my obvious mood. “What’s the matter?”

“I accidentally made someone sad.”

She pursed her lips. “Accidents will happen. Would you like to talk about it?”

I shook my head and turned the hat over in my hands.

“All right then. I’m here for you, if you ever need to.” Her voice was warm and sincere.

“The Forestfolk, is everyone here . . .” I struggled to find the right word. “Broken? I mean, from broken relationships, or families torn apart?”

Zelly c****d her head. “What a curious question. Not all who come are separated from loved ones. Though I would hazard to guess most of us are.”

“What about you?” The words escaped before I could stop them.

She smiled sadly, and I immediately regretted my question.

“No, never mind,” I stammered. “You don’t have to answer. I ask nosy questions.” I sighed and flopped back against the shed.

She regarded me for a moment. “Siena, if people want to talk about something, they will. All they need is a little prompt, and someone to listen.”

She fell silent, giving me time to consider her words. I tipped my head back against the shed and looked up at the sky. The garden provided a break in the trees and an unobstructed view of the blue void above. I imagined an entire family with sky blue eyes, and I wondered if she had to leave them behind.

“I did have a husband once.” Zelly picked at a sliver of wood on her tree stump. “We wanted to start a family, but didn’t want to raise a child in an uneasy landscape where even Icelings weren’t safe from the pillaging Plainsmen. So we sought a safer place.” Her hands stilled. “But Arvin fell ill and perished, leaving me to fend for myself.”

“And that’s when you found Foresthome?”

“That’s when they found me,” she corrected. “Much like they found you.”

“The lost are found again,” I murmured, echoing Remi’s words.

Zelly nodded.

I plucked at one of the frayed ends of the hat, adjusting it and closing a gap in the weave. “Do you still miss him?”

“Sometimes,” she answered. “But it’s been years now, and his memory is fading.”

“Do you . . .” I hesitated again. “Do you feel lonely?”

“I’ve got this fertile soil and these beautiful vegetables. And now I’ve got you. How could I be?” She gave me a warm smile, though there was a tiredness about it that led me to believe maybe she wasn’t being completely honest.

“I made you a hat,” I said, deciding to leave the sad topic behind us.

“Did you now? Well, let’s have a look.” She tilted the woven hat this way and that, as if appraising its value.

I sat there watching her, chewing on my lip. Maybe she thought it was shabby.

“Where did you learn to make this?” she asked. “I know those sun-loving Plainsmen wouldn’t know a hat from a boar’s backside.”

“My mother. She knew how to make a lot of things.”

“Well, she was a fine teacher. Reminds me of home.” She flipped the hat onto her head and pulled it into place. “Lovely. You are a dear. Let’s put this hat through its paces and dig us some rows, shall we?”

We were on our second furrow when Galen appeared. “I see you have an apprentice!” he called out. His smile gleamed in the sunlight.

Zelly looked up, her eyes wide with surprise and her breath quickening. I followed her gaze to Galen, who stood by the garden shading his eyes from the sun.

“Galen, what brings you here?” Her voice sounded calm, but with a slight breathlessness.

“Mother was wondering if you had a carrot to spare. She’s trying out a new poultice today.”

“Yes, of course,” Zelly said a little too quickly. “I should have a few ready. How is Ruba?” She strode to a patch of long green stems and pulled on one of the clusters.

“She is doing well. The sick and wounded keep her busy, which is a good thing.”

A long, pale carrot popped out into Zelly’s hand. “There we are,” she said as she handed it to him, hastily wiping her flustered hands onto her smock.

“Perfect.” He smiled again. I secretly thought he was referring to his teeth, because I’d never seen teeth that perfect before. “That hat looks well on you.”

“Oh! That would be Siena’s handiwork.” Her fingers brushed its brim. “It’s nice to have a touch of home on my head.”

“I’m glad you’re settling in nicely, Siena. Foresthome now has two beautiful Icelings to dazzle us.” With a wink and a dip of his head, he headed back to the trail.

Zelly walked back to where I stood, almost stumbling on the uneven ground.

I looked at her flushed face and asked, “Does Galen make you nervous?”

“Nervous?” She laughed shakily. “I think Galen makes all the girls nervous.”

“What about him? He doesn’t get nervous?”

“Him?” Zelly snorted. “That man is confidence personified. Nothing makes him nervous.”

“Do you . . .” I bit my lip, wondering if I was overstepping. “Do you wish you made him nervous?”

She looked at me as if the thought had never occurred to her. “Well, now, that would be something, wouldn’t it?”

As we returned to the task of digging furrows, a thought niggled into my mind. I continued digging until I couldn’t help myself from asking, “Does it bother you that he’s . . . gifted?”

“Bother me? Why would it?”

“I don’t know, because it’s not natural?”

She turned an unexpectedly stern eye to me. “Now, those are the Plainsmen talking. I expect you heard nothing but poison growing up where you did, but know this: The Gifted are just like you and me, only they’ve been endowed with the wondrous ability to tap into a part of nature that none of us can. Do you understand?”

I almost told her about myself right then and there. Instead, I swallowed the impulse and nodded. I felt so confused. Growing up as an Aberration, looked down upon as a freak and something less than everyone else, it had left a stain. One I couldn’t seem to scrub off, no matter what these wonderful people told me.