Gift- Book 1

Chapter 22

Leiea wakes to the sound of rustling chains from in front of the caravan. Sheyric had told her the other day that Karyk would be coming into view soon, but it was sooner than expected.

Naturally, she refused to even agree on stepping out of the door. Who knows what could happen, after the earlier events there? Of course, she wants to see Plei and Fepko, but visiting old friends is not worth trending somewhere dangerous. However, she can't stop Sheyric from going in. They need more supplies, and after entering dry land, water. Even the horses are slow-going due to minimal goods on their end. He did agree in making the trip short, which helped her mood and anxiety.

Leiea dips her head back down to fall asleep again. Soon, the door creaks open and Sheyric calls for her, saying he's off to the village. She grunts in response and he shuts the door again.

After another week or so of travels, she's very sure by now that he might as well be going crazy. His sitting outside all night to guard is nothing new, but he hasn't slept in four days. He's even been giving up food and water for her, saying her mental state isn't well, but she knows he's nothing better. Very tired, but still keeping up. Bloodshot eyes and laughing at inappropriate times.

Sometimes it didn't even seem like he wanted to hide it from her. As if trying to send a hint. Or maybe showing her that it's okay to be in a bad mental place? She knows that it's certainly not, and it's not healthy for him to think that way.

One day, watching Sheyric fidgeting with a rough piece of granite, she remembered one day back when he was just teaching her the geography of Kiira.

"What's wrong? Somethings wrong."

"Nothings wrong. I suppose my emotions just... project. Why don't we bring all this to the caravan? We'll eat there, it's getting a bit too warm for my taste."

Maybe he'd always been a little crazy in the head, just good at making it minor and vague. The crowds at Galerus just made it worse. She can only imagine what it's like for him, that happening every year, and being alone to top it off. With that standing, it's a miracle he hasn't gone permanently insane.

Unable to fall back to sleep, Leiea props herself up on the wall and digs out her old storybook, the one from Ryn that she read for Fleya at night. Their favorite was a short tale about a merchant bartering with a man that, unbeknownst to him, was a god in man's clothes. The greedy god didn't understand why the merchant was so persistent about price, so he turned him into a crow, left to steal from trash piles. They liked the story because it turned the classic trope of mortals being wrong and gods being right on its head, showing that otherworldly beings don't truly know mankind and how they function at making things fair. Now Leiea can truly respect the story, knowing how trade and bartering works, knowing that it's not a bad thing to be leading arguments because, in the long run, it's all to be fair to everyone's opinion, no matter how hard it is to deal with.

The first page of the story's dog-eared, with the pages following it worn and warped on the edges from holding it more than the other parts. Flipping through it and skimming the lines and illustrations, she expected herself to smile and remember the days fondly, but it just brings tears to her eyes. All the memories of Fleya laughing and falling asleep to the stories. Even the fact that Ryn gifted the book to them makes her solemn.

She slams the book shut and hurriedly stuffs it back in the pack, taking the two plant books out instead. Even though she knows the books would be crucial in finding food on the trade route, she never bothered to show it to Sheyric or look at it, just trusting that he knows what he's doing. Still, she never let him too close to the forest, having to take greens from the very edges of the trees, just barely where it's least dry.