The Fates (Book I) - 2014 Watty Award Winner!

2.10 - Like Home

Dear Readers: Back to Stonehenge we go, to see Lachesis and her newfound friend on earth :)

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Scene 10: Like Home

2020 B.C.

Donal’s grey-blue eyes distinctly brightened, at her answer. Truly—she would? He looked incredulous with joy, to hear that she would have him as her keeper.

The sight warmed Lachesis’s shivering heart. She gladly placed her hand in his, letting him lead her away from these strange haunting stones.

He asked her questions, as they walked across the earth.

“From where did you come? I could have sworn that I was there alone, beside the altar stone, and then you suddenly appeared…”

She had never known how to say anything other than the truth. “I… am not from this world…” she hesitantly stammered.

His face was not sure whether to raise his brows or furrow them. This resulted in a blend of both. “You mean a distant land?”

She wagged her head. “Not quite a land at all.”

His expression became even more bewildered. Could she truly be an angel? Here beside him, flesh and blood?

Instead of probing further, he spoke of himself—much easier on his racing heart. “I also am not from this country. My father and I traveled far, from a mountainous realm, to find those famous stones. To heal the abscess on his jaw, his injured knee…” he paused, tried to forget that the wound was from a lost fight over his mother. “As you can see, we’re not the only ones who hold faith in the legendary cure.”

Lachesis cocked her head; it was her turn to ask him questions. “So legend has it that the stones have healing powers?”

Donal nodded. “That is the rumor, far and wide. The ring of stones stands as a site of ritual for the locals. But for ailing travelers like my father, it is much more than that. It is a site of hope.”

Her breath paused at the word; she could use some of that. Hope of returning home. Although the earth was much less dismal with this kind boy by her side, she still longed for her home, with every fiber of her mortal frame. But she just couldn’t bear to think upon that now.

So she proceeded with her questions, finding herself sincerely curious about his human life. “Have you been here for long?”

He shook his head. “Only a few days. We are staying in a small village for now; my father offers the hamlet his skills as a hunter and a coppersmith, in exchange for a roof over our heads,” he explained.

“So he wields his bow mostly to hunt?”

His head bobbed in a solemn nod. “He dislikes drawing human blood. He very rarely ever has.”

Lachesis mulled that over briefly. Felt her blood rising from a resurgent rush of guilt and shame. She was to blame…

“But I am glad he did, today,” Donal expressed.

This did not take away the blame, but somehow softened it a bit.

They reached the village. He led her through clusters of humble homes, narrow roads milling with natives. Her state of undress was a happy excuse to hold her close, to shield her from their prying eyes.

Donal approached a woman known for making clothes, asked if she had a garment to spare for his guest. The old crone sized them up with stingy eyes. Said that nothing was ever ‘to spare,’ around here.