How Deep The Roots Go ( Book One)

Chapter 12

Temperance sighed aloud, her mind at ease without the thought of worry. She allowed peace to fill her, and the slow current of the bayou to take her away. Dreaming was good for her, as most of the time she felt her mind never reached that place of reverie. Or when it did, it was terrible dreams. She smiled, relishing in this reposeful dream, and then like a blink of an eye, she felt the punch of her gift dig its claws into her like a monster, and she saw... Saw with reigning clarity.

No longer were images muddled and obscured. Now in this moment of dream, it was vivid and bright. She came upon a gate. An old iron one that squeaked when she entered it. It was night again, just like now, except there was no light from the moon, nor a star in the sky.

"The Bringer Forth of Life," she heard a low murmur from behind her.

She turned quickly, but nothing – no one was there. She moved on, peering at the road before her. The dirt she walked on was desert dry, nearly hot on the soles of her bare feet. There was nothing about this dream that placed comfort inside of her now. She swallowed, continuing forward, knowing this was a vision− just the beckoning of her gift speaking to her.

"You will not find what you seek here," she heard the voice again. She stopped and circled once more, but the path was empty. The trees surrounding her were creating a tunnel on the road she walked on. The branches arched heavily; encompassing the passage she was on, nearly scraping her flesh as she continued.

Her eyes strained with the pitch black of night. She couldn't see anything but the pathway and the trees. This was her norm. Precisely what always happened within her visions. Nothing was ever comfort and love. It was always that sensation of something very wrong about to transpire. And as she continued, that very feeling ran up her spine and plunged into the abyss of her mind.

"And what do I seek?" Temperance asked, sauntering forward, looking around her.

Laughter rolled onto the night. "Surely you know."

"My gift?" Temperance offered.

"A gift can be given, and can be rebuked."

"Who are you?" Temperance asked, stopping on the path, clinching her hands.

"I cannot say," the male voice said, holding indubitable authority.

"What do you want?" Temperance demanded.

"You," he stated simply. Then he appeared from behind a tree. The shadows played around his figure, making it difficult for Temperance to see him clearly.

He approached closer, walking with a gait of confidence, and taking his time to reach her. Finally, the moon shifted just slightly, and she could see him smiling softly then, revealing a very beautiful mouth.

Temperance swallowed hard, feeling her heart thump against her neck.

He was tall, and quite appealing, Temperance noted. His skin was dark, a deep caramel in color. His body was well built, she noted, as she could make out the muscle in his forearms and his legs. He wore dark pants and a dark shirt, blending well with the color of night.

After assessing him, her eyes reached his, and she saw the mirror of the moon harboring in his eyes. His dark hair touched the collar of his shirt, and it moved lightly with the breeze that was starting to pick up. She noticed he had it combed to perfection − brushed back, allowing her to see a handsomely chiseled face, with arched brows and high cheekbones, accenting a fittingly square chin and strong nose. She felt the rise and fall of her breasts, and steadied herself as the strike of attraction raked over her.