Silvan Sisters: The Hunt

Chapter 31

Never in the history of Patch has the rain lasted so long. A moon and four phases sees the cleanse to an end, and with it a layer of mist covers the land. When a knock brings a visitor, the healer allows the guest in with a hardened glare.
"You can get lost in the fog as well as the rain," scolds Mother Priestess.
"I think I can find my way home in any weather, Mother," Serena returns.
"You know better."
The maid heads for the kitchen with her mother on her heels. She busys herself at the stove and sets out two mugs. Pouring the tea, the priestess offers a seat.
"Not a social call," Marie states.
"I felt involving anyone would break the healer's trust," her daughter confides. "But I don't know what to do. If it came from training I could understand, but ... Mom, I healed wounds no elf should know. Old wounds on top of old wounds, and the mind," Serena sighs. "I needed to spell him to get through the rain."
"Does he know you seek me?" Mother Priestess questions.
"My visit arrives in consult," her daughter confesses. Marie offers her to continue. "What should I do?"
"You deal with things you know nothing about," she explains. "Reasonable to consider bringing in someone else. Did you not enlist a shaman?"
"I forgot about him," Serena muses. "The crone stands to visit the tree.

-
"Mom?"
The word brings a smile to her weary face. Receiving him comes as a welcome surprise when his voice she has not heard since before the rains. "My boy, how are you?" Mother Ashwood declares.
"How are you?" Charlie returns, concern etched on his features. Wiping her hands with a towel, Irene offers a place to sit and puts a kettle to boil.
"I am fine that you're here. Let me look at you. They not feeding you over there? You're too thin," she fusses.
"I was worried," he declares.
"The forest will feel better for a good cleanse," Irene returns. "I made a soup. Want some?" Without waiting for an answer, she serves up a bowl. An old injury sees her drop the ladle, and Charlie offers a hand.
"It's getting worse. You can't keep ignoring it," he states.
"How many girls do you have to beat off you now? Or guys, I'm not one to judge."
"Mom," groans Charlie.
"That many, huh," she teases. "You bed any yet?"
"Mom," he gasps.
"Oh, you can't blame an old lady for being nosy. It's the only way we learn about these things," she chastises. "I'm sure some little filly caught my boy's attention." Charlie blanches. "Fine, don't tell me what you do in your spare time. All I know is that you're not spending it here with me. If for fancy, I could understand."
"The trainings keep me busy. I'm not avoiding you." When his mother remains quiet, Charlie tries to take her hand. "I go no where but the cabin and here. You are the only girl in my life."
"I love you, son, but you can't be in a relationship with your mother," Irene stresses.
"You know what I mean."
"I doubt you know what you mean," she sighs.
"How did this turn into a conversation about my love life?"
Irene shrugs.
The visit reveals many old injuries bothering her which renders Charlie silent. A limp here and a sore muscle there; the rain always makes them worse. He barely touches the food and after a turn, walks out with a chaste kiss to her forehead.