The Family

Chapter 2-1

CHAPTER TWO

The next morning, Sarah wakes up to yet another drenched nightgown. This has become her norm since they left home the first time. She throws the covers off, finding Peter’s side made up. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, she pulls at the gown’s sticky cotton fabric. She looks down at its transparency. Her cheeks warm up at her own indecency. Thank Adonia Peter’s gone. Sighing, she gets up, grabbing a white cotton tunic and tan pants from her bag, and changes behind the screen.

Rays of sunlight dance across the floor and screen. The stark white fabric half blinds her. Bits of dust and dirt float through the rays between the floor and windows. The birds sing behind her. She leans to her left, peeking outside to find Peter sitting on the front steps, talking with Rayden.

The room is quiet. The birds chirp louder now. A whinny comes from outside, then silence in and out.

Moments later, Sarah lays her nightgown down flat on the floor. Maybe the sun pouring through will help it dry. Or should she hang it up in front of the window?

A loud knocking comes from the door.

Sarah jumps, thoughts interrupted.

The door creaks open.

Rayburn steps in, surveying everything in the room except for Sarah, and speaks in a flat tone. “We’re going to the Market today. Come eat something. What’s left anyway.” She mumbles under her breath, “Lazy homini.” Turning on her heels, she walks out of the room.

Sarah grins to herself. Rayden had to have sent her. She giggles, sitting on the edge of the bed, and puts on her boots.

Tromping down the stairs, the faint aroma of bacon and biscuits wafts through the cottage. Walking into the kitchen, Sarah finds the cold remnants of bacon, biscuits, ham, and eggs on the wood smoke stove. Hmh, they actually eat breakfast? She expected early lunch foods. Maybe some roast, a fruit pastry, or even a ham and egg pie. Her father, and later Peter, were the only ones who ever ate anything before lunch. Shrugging, she eats the three remaining pieces of bacon and one hardened biscuit right from the stove top. l*****g her fingers, she rubs them on her pant leg and heads for the front door. Peering through, she eyes Peter and Rayden still sitting on the top step. They both lean on opposite sides of the railing.

Rayden has another roll in his fingers. He puts it to his lips, letting out a puff of smoke, and transforms the puff into a hopping rabbit. Wiggling his fingers, he lets the cloud disappear in the wind. Turning his head, he catches her staring.

Sarah pokes her head out the door, creeping out onto the porch.

Rayden lifts the roll to her. “Would you like to try it? On my travels across the continent, quite a few of the natives in each area smoked a lot from a pipe. I thought of doing this when returning home.” He turns it every which way. “I don’t quite know what to call it yet, though.” He lifts it to her again. “Go ahead, try it.” He grins, bobbing it up and down.

Sarah reaches for it, hesitating. “It won’t… kill me, will it? I mean… what exactly is it made of?” She curls her fingers but keeps her hand close.

Rayden chuckles. “No, well… To be honest, I’m unsure.” He shrugs. “But all that’s in it is occabot leaves and some… extras.” He scrunches his face, shaking his head.

Hesitating, Sarah takes the brown roll between her first and second fingers just like Rayden. Glancing between him and Peter, she puts it to her lips, inhaling through her mouth. She holds in the smoke for the longest time. It burns. Exhaling, she coughs to the point she chokes. Throwing out her hand to Rayden, she shakes the roll for him to take and holds her chest. Her eyes water, tears falling. Heat radiates from her cheeks. Her throat aches.

Rayden grins and takes it from her. “Yes, well, they take a little getting used to.” He chuckles, glancing at Peter, and puts the roll between his lips.

Sarah pats her chest and gasps between words. “I don’t think… I want to get used to them, but thank you… for the gesture.” She coughs a bit more, arching an eyebrow at Peter’s smirk, and sniggers. “Stop laughing. You probably couldn’t do any better.” She crosses her arms and shifts her weight.

Peter holds up his right hand, putting his own roll to his lips. He inhales, letting the thin smoke pour from his mouth with ease.

Sarah arches an eyebrow and huffs. Her coughs subsides, but it’s still a bit hard for her to breathe easy.

Rayburn walks through the front door. "We had better get moving if we're going to the Market." She shoves her shoulder into Sarah’s, pushing her way down the steps.

Sarah takes in Rayburn’s newest fashionable ensemble. Tight royal blue leather pants lacing up the sides. Tall-heeled knee-high black boots that squeak as she walks. White short-sleeved tunic under a light blue vest covered in gold swirls all the way from the top of the small stiff collar to the points in the vest tails. The lacing in the front stops, along with the vest, right below her breasts. A black leather hair cuff holds her hair into a ponytail at the base of her head, making a wild bundle of curls on her shoulders and back. She holds her bow in a white-gloved hand. A small quiver hangs on her hip.

Rayburn looks over her shoulder at the others still sitting on the steps. The point of her collar presses into her cheek. She huffs, spinning back around.

Grunting, Rayden gets up from his step and grabs his staff. He puts out a hand towards the dirt road with a slight bow.

In the short pause, Sarah looks over Rayden’s attire for the day. Deep green leather pants. Black cuffed boots. White tunic with long billowing sleeves under a thin gold doublet that laces all the way up to his neckline and the full length of his sides. Pointed shoulders and a short collar rise with his shrug. A loose cuff holds his hair at the base of his neck. The wispy ends of his hair fly off his shoulders in the light breeze.

They’re quite posh. Maybe Sarah can talk her way into a wardrobe change from them.

Peter stands, snubbing out his roll on the wood, and brushes off his plain tan pants.

Sarah descends to the same step as Peter.

Peter shakes his head, crossing his arms, and smirks. "What, no flying?" He squints, looking at Rayden.

The sun is of a particular brightness today.

Rayden smirks, shaking his head. "The market is close. We can ride the horses, or even walk from here. It’s your choice." His attention bounces between them, landing on Peter.

Sarah shrugs. “I’m going with horses. I feel like riding.” She puts her hands behind her back, swaying in place a bit.

Rayden nods. “Horses it is then.” He smiles, putting out a hand to her.

Sarah takes it, descending the remaining steps, and puts her gaze on Rayburn.

Rayburn rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath. “Lazy homini.” She sets the tip of her bow on the ground, holding it to her.

Sarah just rolls her eyes and watches Rayden walk over to the stalls and opens the gate.

Three horses trot out, shaking their manes, snorting, and stomping their feet. The honey-yellow horse with white mane and tail trots up to Sarah, and she pets his nose.

The other two pure black horses trot up to Rayden and Rayburn.

All three of their coats gleam and shine.

Huh. No saddles.

Rayden and Rayburn hop onto the black ones with ease.

Sarah continues to pet the horse’s nose as Peter approaches, and eyes him. "Peter, I can't get up there without stirrups. I'm too short." She shakes her head, looking back at the horse.

Before Peter can say or do anything, Sarah floats up and over the horse. She lands, lighter than a feather, on its back. She looks over her shoulder.

Rayden drops his pointed finger with a quick grin.

Sarah stares at Peter with wide eyes and tight chest.

Peter shrugs, hopping on behind her.

The horse moves a few steps, snorting, and swishes its tail.

Rayden steers his horse alongside theirs. "Hope I didn't scare you." He squints at Sarah, scratching his chin.

Sarah doesn’t look at him at first. "Oh, no, I'm fine." She offers him a weak smile. "It's just…” She pauses, looking at her hands. “Lamia did something similar to me.” She looks him in the eyes. “But this time, I could breathe, so I guess it’s alright." Her eyes drop to the horse’s mane, and she rubs her arm.

Memories of her paralysis and struggle for breath consume her mind. They race through her whole body, and for a split second, she loses her ability to breathe again. She puts a hand to her tight chest, opening and closing her mouth.

Peter's arm brushes hers as he reaches around her for the horse's mane.

Sarah watches his fingers wrap around the reigns. His touch brings her back to her surroundings, helping her breathe again. An awkward silence looms over her. Even the woods have quieted. The muscles in his forearm flex. She follows the small veins in his arm all the way up to the folds of his faded light green sleeves. She leans back into the heat from his chest. The breeze blows again. On it rides the scents of lavender soap mixed with a light amount of sweat and roll smoke. She breathes him in. He takes in a breath, and she freezes, letting the gap narrow until their bodies meet. When he exhales, she relaxes.

Peter shifts over the horse’s back, gripping the reigns. No saddle has him uncomfortable. He moves his legs closer to her and relaxes a bit. Strands of her hair float in the wind. They tickle his lips. He bites them, scratching them with his teeth. No matter how much he scratches, the wisps of hair continue to tickle him.

They both look around at the lush woods on either side of the narrow dirt road. The sun plays hide and seek in the leaves, bouncing from hole to hole. Birds fly from limb to limb. They c**k their heads from side to side, making eye contact with Sarah and Peter.

The wind whispers around them as well, as if saying, “Who are they? He’s one of us, but we haven’t seen him before. Who is the homini? She's not one of ours.”

Sarah looks from side to side. Chill bumps run down her arms and legs.

Are the woods really speaking? Or is it her imagination?

Sarah leans to the side, looking up and over her shoulder at Peter. "Peter, do you hear that? Can you hear… whispering?" She squints, afraid to take her hands off the horse's mane to shade her eyes.

Rayden chuckles. "The woods here speak more than what you're used to." He looks back at her with a squinting smile. "The Market is only a few minute’s ride away. And I believe you two will like it." He shades his eyes, lingering on them.

Sarah turns to Rayden. “What exactly is The Market to your kind?” She straightens up, adjusting herself, and grabs a different part of the mane.

Rayden sighs, smirking. “Well, it’s more of a gathering place now. It’s older than most of us. Very few have seen it from its beginning. From what I’ve learned, it started as a means of attaining enchato ingredients before our intuiters found more creative ways of getting what we need.” He shrugs. “Now, it’s more for those of us who are too lazy to create certain items ourselves, or have the misfortune of never getting the knack for certain enchatos, to get certain items, trades, or news. We even have our own currency and value system. Some things are for metal value, some for certain services, and others for specific items needed or trade worthy. It all depends on the Elephima and the needed exchange.” He smiles, squinting even more, and turns around.

Sarah nods. “Oh…” She looks back and up at Peter, locking eyes with him, and then he looks ahead.

The next five minutes pass in deep silence, except for the birds following them. They tweet and sing to each other faint murmurs that to the untrained ear sound like bird squabble.