Ties That Bind

The Long Road. pt. 2

She dreams less of her family now. Mostly, she dreams of fighting with Zimena, of stabbing the woman to death until she is a bloody mess. Sometimes Zimena's face turns into Vulre's and they switch back and forth, so she gets to kill both of them.

She wakes up panting and sweating, fists curled up, ready to tear someone to shreds. It's better than dreaming of her family. Anger is a more tolerable feeling than sadness or grief. Part of her is angry at them, disappointed. She was dead for three days and yet she saw none of them.

***

Yaghed is out in the barn. He wasn't in the temple and there's few places he could be, so she knows he must be there, unless he left. Once again, Ofelia seeks him out.

She walks barefoot through farmland, passing several goat-like creatures and some white-spotted birds that are much larger than chickens on her way to the barn. Though the land is open with no gates, none of the animals wander very far from the barn. Some sort of runes must be in place on the property, creating an invisible barrier. If she didn't know better, she'd blame staying so long on the barrier.

The barn is made of some sort of light colored wood, adorned with the same carvings that can be seen all around the temple. It's not as grand, as can be deduced by the smell, which Ofelia notices even before she walks in. It looks like any barn on this side of the world with high walls topped with a flat roof to shelter the animals from the elements.

Yaghed is at the back, brushing the coat of a mahogany horse that's large enough for him to ride. Next to him, it looks like one of the common horses, but as she approaches it grows very apparent that it's not the average size. She would have difficulty mounting it without any practice.

Yaghed doesn't see her, or doesn't acknowledge her as she approaches, sidling up to his right. The horse bumps her with its nose and she obligingly scratches it with her fingertips, feeling the comforting softness.

My father had a horse this color. What was its name?

She shrugs it off. She can't afford to let herself get lost in memories she can barely remember. The little girl she was is gone, lost, dead. She might as well be a different person. She has to let go of it. She thought that by now, she would have- and yet she can't.

"Yaghed," she says casually, feigning indifference. "I have a question for you."

Yaghed pauses in his brushing, inspects the horse's coat, and then smooths out an imaginary tangle in the mane. He inclines his head slightly and for a second, Ofelia thinks he's going to ignore her, but he finally grunts out, "What is it?"

She shrugs, like it's something silly. "What did you do with the money?"

"What does it matter to you?" he has the audacity to ask.

Ofelia decides that maybe if she tries to be civil and not punch him, she will get farther. "You got it by selling me," she says. "Since we're bloodbound and practically family now, I have a right to know."

He looks at her through the corner of his eye, as if he's afraid to look at her head on. The thought is somewhat pleasing- that he may be anxious when conversing with her.

"I paid someone off," he tells her. "And I put the rest away in a bank."

"Where?"

"Troff."

Banks are few and far between, since most people don't have enough money to warrant needing a place to keep it safe. She thinks that tax collectors come from banks, too, but she doesn't really know for sure, as she's never had to pay taxes, what with being a Shadow, technically illegal. She highly doubts Winnara paid taxes.