Yellowhair: An Elf Hollow Prequel

SIXTEEN | Sneaking

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sneaking

Qello was now prepared to face the end days of her life, perhaps only this one, as the All understood more, she thought. Perhaps I would wish to face also, if I could see from such a total knowing of things, as the energy fields of the All. What a wonderful thing to be in the All that is! I wonder what it really is like. She put her fingers through her hair for the very last time.

Before Krendal Offshaw would be stirring from sleep, Qello quietly collected her thoughts in the dark of early morning. She'd leave as soon as she was left on her own, likely best the next morning. She moved in silence, still on her knees, to tie her belongings together and then left them bundled, with the mat bunched up in front of them, to hide her intentions, finishing just as Krendal stirred and woke up.

There had been no mention of shadows. Qello nodded, yes, to Krendal that she would go out again with him once they had eaten and, then, she let him again hitch her up onto his back, still feeling nervous but grateful. Help to get as far as the field will save my feet a bit longer, she thought, until I can get going. She was planning every inch to minimize weight of her steps on the mountain climb upwards. Energized, by the deep importance of what she was doing, at last, she eagerly gathered grasses, as Krendal moved a way off, and Qello soon had a huge enough pile.

Krendal passed her on the way back to the camp from the field with his first basket—full and expertly gathered. "Those, there, aren't the plants we are after, today, Lass." He soon noticed, however, she was intent—focused on her own form of collecting. He began a new conversation. "I came as a traveler. You wouldn't know of the past, but people here have never been told they themselves are powerful with their intent and when they're fully connected to nature."

Qello looked up at Krendal's mention of learning. He saw her quizzical look. "Curious topic, but I say—do I say it? Yes, I think it's just right—power within co-creation and love. Most won't have thought yet of using abilities they each possess. That's out of sight. They just don't know it. If it weren't for the stories—"

Qello was unsure what he was meaning. "Oh, never you mind— You know what you're wanting." He fussed with his basket. "I'll be right back. You stay here. Don't eat anything."

They worked and they rested, Qello conserving her strength. Krendal brought some dry berry and nut cakes that he had compacted together and they drank tea with honey from a clay pot he brought with him back to the field.

It was a beautiful afternoon on the slope, in the clear mountain air. Qello's face was pink with the sun from staring up watching for shadows. She combed out her braid full of tangles with the split end of a hardwood branch given to her by Krendal. He had been busy last night, by the fire, slicing the end of the branch, but until now she had not realized the cuts he was making had split the wood into tines for her hair parting. He had not waited for Thad to make it for her. Brushing took a long time, but it worked for the tangles. Krendal cut off the knots that she couldn't get out, with a knife. Qello winced.

The day seemed unhurried. Qello inspected the trees, noticing how proud each one of them looked. She let her eyes blur until she could see them standing there, like kings in her mind—their shapes decked out in robes and sceptres, some with crowns on their heads. Their warmth and their stories she'd heard, bore into her mind, until she and Krendal, at the end of the day, went back toward camp.

Qello felt sad for draining Krendal's strength to ride on his back, when he was so tired from the sun, but she steeled herself for what she must do.

The moment they got back into the woods, and once Qello could see Krendal was busy in tasks with the fire, or tying up bunches of plants for teas, she began and spent the rest of the evening weaving; twisting and tying the best of her knots. She listened to rambling bursts from the man who blurted out answers to no one, sometimes with laughter, all to himself. The herbalist didn't notice a thing, until Qello already had combined cords in a sizeable pile.