The Northerner's Call

Chapter 2

Ayla didn't want to stay longer, but her aching belly pleaded for her to eat. She nodded, looking down, her pride escaping her. Torr grabbed her hand and led her to the canteen where they were served two plates of food.

Torr ripped into his meat, shoving bits in his mouth as he spoke loudly to the people around them at the table.

Ayla picked at her food, placing small bits on her tongue. It was a meat she had not eaten before, gamey, and rough on her tongue. She swallowed with some trouble.

"Ya don't like it?" Torr asked softly. He had been kind enough to feed her and she ate his food like it was animal droppings.

"It's tough," she murmured, ripping another piece with her fingers. She did want to offend him, though he hadn't given her much freedom in her choice to eat.

"For yer baby teeth, I see," he laughed.

"I will bite through your skin with these baby teeth," she growled, standing up from the table. The people around them watched her uneasily.

"Sit, narrae," Torr told her placatingly, shaking his head.

"I will not."

Torr placed his hand on her shoulder and shoved her back into her chair roughly. Her head bobbled at the motion and she bit her tongue as Torr continued his conversations. She finished her meal quickly and waited for Torr to instruct her further. He looked at her plate, impressed.

"Big appetite, pea snap," he noted, sliding her plate on top of his.

"Does it please you to insult me?" She wondered. Torr smiled again, looking off into the distance, ignoring her question.

"Where are ya from?" Torr asked her.

"What does it matter?"

"Oh," he sang, grinning down at her. "Ya know it does. You're but a brown rock in a sea of sand."

She looked around her and took in the pale, blond mass of villagers. She was the only one with brown locks, and although Torr had a warmth to his skin, her olive tone still alienated her.

"South," she said under her breath.

"Come," he told her, standing from the table. He excused himself and grabbed her hand once more, dragging her out to another building. It was a bath house, filled with bins and pools of water.

She paused with offense and yanked her hand away.

"You really do think I look a mess, don't you?"

"Ya have twigs in yer hair, narrae," Torr chuckled. "And dirt on yer cheeks."

Ayla blushed and looked around the empty bath house.

"Then leave me."

"Leave ya alone?" He laughed. "I would never."

Ayla grunted, turning to walk out of the bath house. Torr stopped her.

"I will wait outside. The ladies will help ya," he said. A few women came into the bath house, dressed in cream gowns and hair wraps. Torr left, true to his word, and the ladies waited for Ayla to undress. She took a cloth from the table on her left and shimmied out of her dress, keeping the cloth close to her body as she slid into a hot bath.

The ladies around her immediately began fussing over her, picking her hair apart and scrubbing the dirt from her body. She had never had people to wash her, and she jerked away from the hands.

The eldest sighed and slapped Ayla's hand lightly.

"Stop it now," she scolded, her voice high and shrill.