The Tale Teller

Ch 40

 It was hard to keep track of time in the village. It seemed to be situated further north than Vaun had expected, and with it came an early morning sun unusual to this time of year. Those from Caveholde disagreed with him, telling their own tales of the few times during the cold months when they had been forced to venture above ground. Night still surrounded them in these early hours, but the grey-blue light shone like a mist that confused them all.

Those mornings came with the black birds and their crying calls. It was a sound Vaun could never warm to, but the heat of the burning embers in the free-house seemed to ease the chills that the noise brought.

The people were quiet then, shuffling around to pull on tunics and boots, to gather their necessary supplies for the day. Some went to work on the newest home being built, others were busy ploughing the few fields for the approaching spring and the planting to come.

Said spring was the only sign of something to look forward to. The snowdrops popped up around the base of trees, peering out from where the snow tried to snuff them down. The animals grew weary with the weight of their carried young. Vaun longed to see the change arrive, and the mood was shared with every other inhabitant here.

They all worked until night fell, then they would gather for evening meals and songs around the fires. The time joined together in the main square was short this time of year, but profitable for Vaun as more and more came to know him, sharing with him and Dílis all that they could.

With each night that he lay in his bed, Vaun's restless heart eased. This place, filled with people all struggling together to make this patch of land a home, it was humbling. Days were long and tiresome, but there was a peace that came with them. Vaun had no complaints as he lay with a full stomach and a quickly growing fox cub by his chilled toes. Still, he missed Celise. Her name was the first each morning, enclosed in a prayer falling from Vaun's breath. It was the last each night.

The Bard tried to ask about her a few times, piquing Lorel's curiosity in the process until both she and Willa was asking after the fair maiden The Bard had spoken of. Vaun kept his lips tight, not wanting to share those last memories of Celise in his arms with anyone else. It was all he had to hold on to, and admitting those moments may very well be their last was too painful to bear.

And so her name came only in prayers -until one day Vaun found it slipping from his lips with a twist that had his breakfast almost following it.

A mass of blonde curls, matted with a few leaves sticking up where a lady in Faydura may place feathers. A slim frame, too slim, dressed in a brown blur with rope binding the wrists of its owner.

She was being dragged the same path Vaun had came with The Bard, Lorel, and Ash. This wasn't the first time he had seen groups make the same entrance he himself had, but this time was different.

Vaun didn't even see the man with her, or notice the men holding them firm. His eyes were locked on the girl until Vik -Willa's man- gave him a shove to the shoulder.

"Work!" The man's accent was so thick that Vaun struggled to understand how Willa made out his sweetness to her. She seemed to have her ways though, but Vaun hadn't the focus right now to wonder how. "What wrong wi' ye?"

"New people." Vaun's tone was empty, cold. He swallowed. Coughed. It was a pitiful bid to hide it.

"And? Ye see people before, no?" Vaun gave a nod, turning to help Vik load the basket of wool on to the cart. He couldn't remember where it needed to be taken to or why. He was thankful that Vik was in the driving seat as they followed the newcomers towards the main square of the village.

There - like he knew they would be - the two were being tied to the same tree that Vaun himself had spent two nights under. Neither were struggling, but only because they slumped to the ground, drained of all energy. The man couldn't sit up straight. The girl's cries were starting to fall across the rather empty space. It was a blessing that they had little audience. They didn't need this experience to be any more humiliating.