Yellowhair: An Elf Hollow Prequel

TWO | Nest In The Woods

≈ Podcast link available in my bio.

In the country of traders, each village had a specialty. As in times gone by, apprentices worked with journeymen until that special day when they could say, they had begun their own journey! Masters plied their crafts, their arts, in more remote areas, specializing, perfecting, training the occasional journeyman to continue recruiting the best apprentices. Whether it was telling the finest of tales, turning ropes or whittling, even magic, was still taught in this way. It was a time of sharing. Hardships were common and the folk knew the value of sharing, if only stories, and they all had stories!

CHAPTER TWO

Nest In The Woods

The late afternoon warmth of the trip from the village had provided small comfort, when the skinny dog found Qello watching her cottage and workshop, through trees.

Qello could see no signs of anything different. She looked and noticed everything. Nothing had moved. Hugging the tree with relief, she fell deeply asleep, tired from her long run. She missed the late return of her brother. The dog, resigned, went off in search of a meal somewhere else.

No one really knew where Qello Orkin lived.

Mr. Groote and the odd villager knew where the family, itself, had their home in the mud, so to speak. Mr. Groote had helped them to build the thick walls made from earth in the forest long beyond Kempor Village, but Qello preferred another thick moss thatch. She had built it herself, also with earth, in between some delicate trees--poorly copying the fence technique of the home. It had all fallen down, often, in fact, but pleased, by herself, she called it her nest.

Throughout all the time of the last several years, no one knew where she was any night, ever, unless it were the dead cold of winter or some heavy rains, when she did then stay in the house.

Her parents told no one she slept somewhere else, for shame surely would taunt them. They had long ago given up trying to find her 'best of' places or worry for her safety. She'd only move her spot if they found her. It wouldn't make sense. Sigrid Orkin was nothing, if not practical. And his family, they knew, would be bound to the same.

Qello loved the early rising of life in the spring—warm nights to enjoy, still some months away now. She had built other spots and used them, but this was the first one she'd shaped closer to home. She always returned to it, unnoticed, once they'd left her alone.

Now she startled awake from her observation spot, stiff and cold to the moon. Disoriented, she silently moved to her nest in the woods. She spent the rest of that night staring at Om, pleading him to help her through unreasonable tears. This was a sign of real weakness, she knew well enough, since she had no real reason to worry. All had appeared normal at the cottage. But nervousness had somehow beset her with uncontrollable sobs.

Qello felt oddly disjointed. Sleep would not come. Om moon would not even try to lend her his heart. And she begged. She did beg. At last, she supposed Eldrid might truly be taken for the long and arduous journey that should have been hers. No signs had revealed anything new at the house, but the day's events left her mind restless, her heart still disturbed.

At Om's later light, shadows were shifting. The dog returned and sat with Qello, near but not close. She knew he was there. She could hear groans sometimes, and snapping of dry twigs as he moved in the darkness, trying to gain each bit of warmth, but he wouldn't come anywhere closer to her.

In the darkness of morn, Qello went home. She sat in the kitchen, quiet by her mother--brooding, alarmed--watching the pot much too closely. The steam danced in amber, the smell of sweet warm bread pudding seeping out as it should. She was surprised. Her brother had eventually gone to Mr. Groote's and brought the pot home.