Chapter 41: An Act of War

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Chapter 41: An Act of War

The sun shone on her back as she walked, warm and bracing in its delicate touch. The Seer was unable to repress a grin as she stepped towards the man at the bottom of the clearing, the horses in the small pens to her left whinnying as she passed - stomping their front hooves in a tender warning. But were they warning her about the man with the axe at the bottom of the clearing? Or, perhaps, warning him of her?

She paid the horses no more attention as she continued, nor to the baby lambs who were hiding behind their mothers' tails, nor the chickens who had run back to their coop. Not used to strangers, she supposed. Not used to the world beyond the forest.

The sound of wood slicing in two thrummed in her ears, mixed with the sound of the birds' melodious afternoon harmony. The Seer's heart skipped as she came closer towards the man and noticed his gaze flicker briefly towards her as he worked. A mere split second's look. But enough for him to assess the stranger approaching. His movements, however, did not stop. He paid the Seer no further attention as he worked, despite how close she was getting to him now. The Seer wasn't sure of the last time her stomach had twisted in such a manner - probably the time she put her faith in a star.

She watched the man as he worked; her eyes stuck to him like glue. He had a natural sternness to him - from his expression to his movements - everything seemed strict and severe. He wore dark, form-fitting trousers that had been patched up in various places with mismatched material, and the Seer noticed a wrinkled shirt flung to the floor by his boots.

Droplets of sweat glistened on his shoulders under the sun and when he cast her another split-second look, the Seer noticed there was something almost melancholic stirring behind his visage that she just about caught a glimpse of. She was sure it would have been invisible to most people, but to her, it was there. Like the soft dwindle of a dying flame.

The dodder of hasty footsteps shuffled through the grass behind the Seer as Glenda caught up with her. Cassandra fought the urge to roll her eyes at the mother's approach, unable to leave her son alone in the presence of a stranger, no doubt; even though he was twice her size and ten times as imposing. Despite this, the Seer could practically feel Glenda's bear-like protectiveness surge through her skin as they got closer and closer towards the dark-haired man.

The Seer wondered what Glenda was afraid of. Was she afraid of Cassandra - a complete and utter stranger she'd only read about in newspapers and textbooks? Or her son? The boy she'd raised and nurtured. The boy she'd witnessed doing unimaginable things since his birth.

"This lady has come here to speak to you," Glenda called towards the man; her stout fingers fumbling with the apron tied around her waist. The words sounded foreign on Glenda's tongue; as though she'd never had to introduce a stranger to her son before. "She's not from the village. She's like you and me. She has magic."

Cassandra was surprised to see that the man didn't respond to his mother. He didn't even look her way. But she could tell it was forced. She could tell that he was maintaining an indifferent front in the presence of a stranger. And as he continued to work, the even thrum of metal piercing wood rebounding around the clearing, Cassandra shot Glenda a look that she immediately seemed to understand.

Glenda hesitated for a few seconds - looking from her son to the Seer - her thin lips twitching nervously. Then she greeted a forced smile and gestured back towards the cottage. "I'll just be back over there watering the flowers."

Cassandra shot the grey-haired woman a faint nod, though she felt the urge to physically push the woman away when she loitered again for a few seconds. But eventually, she walked back towards her home, unable to resist the urge to look back towards her son and the Seer every few seconds as though he might disappear. 

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