Inheritance

Part 2. Chapter 71: Drifting Gaze

Kori woke up in the middle of the night when everyone around the fire was asleep but for the fairy, Casamir. She was worried sick about Francis, and her worry woke her up periodically throughout the night.

The waif sat up, looking down at the elf lying next to her who was shivering in his sleep. He looked paler than she had ever seen him. Kori's eyes were glassy, her feelings continued to confuse her; she had no idea whether she was crying because she needed the elf to survive in order to save Maribel, or because she was fond of him.

Even covered in dirt, with such a pale face, he certainly is handsome... Kori thought to herself while running a hand through his hair. His hair was thick and matted because he hadn't had a chance to properly bathe in a long time, but Kori didn't mind. She hoped that caressing him would help him sleep.

Even if it didn't soothe him, the rhythm of her hand moving back and forth in his hair certainly soothed her. Her mind began to wander to another place and time.

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A fiery sunset embraced the world as Laurence lay by a glimmering lake with Kori by his side. They both enjoyed the melodic sound of the rippling lake for a moment. In another moment, they would have to make camp for the night, but for now, they could relax.

Laurence began humming a song under his breath as he watched the clouds go by.

Kori was frightened. Not because she was afraid of Laurence, but because of what she wanted to do with Laurence. She was afraid of her own mounting emotions, so much so that she found herself trembling for considering doing something as innocent as running her hands through his hair.

Mother wouldn't like it. Kori reminded herself.

It wasn't just that, of course. It was the fact that she barely knew him, and that he could be cruel, or evil, or any number of things. Kori cursed her loose attractions; it was her flirtatiousness that had gotten her into this mess where she was entirely reliant on a stranger, after all.

But he was a kind stranger, and she was overly joyed that it was him she had bumped into after being exiled.

She held her breath and reached out a shaking hand.

Eventually, it found its way into Laurence's thick, soft hair. Laurence paused in his humming, and Kori wondered if she had overstepped a boundary. Her hand was frozen on his head, waiting for his permission to pet him.

Laurence whispered, his mouth barely moving, "Don't stop."

Her heart was thudding, her cheeks had turned as red as the sunset, but she obliged without fear.

Men were frightening to her. They were mysterious, unknowable creatures who were as violent as they were fascinating.

Male waifs spent most of their time hunting for food, and, due to her culture, the only male waif she was allowed to know well before she turned eighteen was her own father.

That didn't stop her from constantly fantasizing about what it might be like to know one outside of her family intimately. Indeed, when she turned fifteen, it seemed as if it were impossible for her to think of anything other than these unknowable men.

She wondered if they were any different from her or if they were the same. She wondered if their skin was harder than hers, or if their hair was softer. She wondered what kind of thoughts were in their heads and wondered if those thoughts were worlds apart from her own or if they were the same.

And what of their feelings? Do their feelings differ from my own?

Kori's hand stopped moving.