Eyes of Emerald

Chapter Thirty-Five (2)

"You need a break," Rania commented to Keira and I that night. We were all in bed, staring at the ceiling of the tent and trying to sleep. None of us could.

            "We all need one." Iris muttered from her spot. She'd rolled over so she was looking at us, propped up on one elbow. "Y'know what we all need?" she said suddenly, sitting up. "A bonfire." she grinned through the light of the lantern hung on the main pole of the tent.

            "A bonfire?" Keira echoed, confusion riddling her voice. Iris had slipped out of her sleeping bag by now. Her grin was pearly white in the candlelight.

            "Yes, you know that thing people do when you put a lot of wood in a pile and burn it?" she said cheekily, dancing out of the tent. Keira made a face.

            "I know that much." she rolled her eyes when Iris started yelling outside. I knew that would only cause people to panic; we were all strung as tight as violins these days. Any loud noise and you'd have ten weapons of varying degrees of size and sharpness at your throat before you could even think.

            It was the case with Iris, but to be fair to the others, someone yelling at the top of their voice at midnight did tend to scare people. She held up her hands, not at all fazed by the weapons pointed at her. She was brave to the point of idiocy sometimes, I thought. This was one of her more idiotic moments.

            She pointed a hand at the pile of twigs people had been gathering and screwed up her face in concentration, sweat beading on her forehead. In a moment, there was a small explosion and the twigs caught fire, the firelight pushing back the darkness. Shadows gravitated towards the warmth and safety of the fire. It was dangerous, yes, but we were facing other dangers now. Those other dangers had caused us to have to ally with our natural enemies to force back the darkness.

            Logs and stones were dragged up to sit on, and someone started tuning a fiddle and a guitar. The soft plucking sounds in rhythm with the crackling fire calmed me, and I sat cross-legged on the ground next to Celie, who was staring into the fire with wide, mournful eyes. I knew she was thinking about the farmhands that were killed yesterday - I only knew because they wouldn't get out of my head either.

            Keira squatted beside me and held out a mug of warm milk. "We don't have much more, so enjoy it while you can," she said, cupping her hands around one of her own.

            I stared into the depths of the embers, the imprint of blood plain on my brain. It felt like it was a stain that would never come out, like it would be in my mind forever. I hoped not. I would rather die than have to watch the innocent farmhands die for the rest of my life.

            The night was almost silent, and across from us I saw Ffi sat next to Zachariah, their faces close and his arm slung casually over her shoulder. She looked happy.

            I was just looking around for Wynn when he sat to Celie's left and nodded to us as a hello. The first chords of a melancholy song were being struck on the guitar, someone joining in softly on a flute that reminded me of my own, the flute that had helped me feel the earth and Shift.