~ The Singing ~

Fiora resumed her pacing just as much from worry as for an excuse to be out of the house and away from the others. Well, away from Alex at least. She had given up on trying to care for him. He could brood in solace and spew his harsh words at his pillows rather than to her. 

She had been encouraged by Demil’s reassurance that he held no grudge against her but his talkativeness disappeared while he silently studied her instead. She was almost relived when he had left for town again. Even more so that he convinced Chink he should go with saying he had some chores to do before nightfall that needed the extra muscle. 

The last of the Birchwood brothers, Borris, had brought a chair out and fletched arrows a few yards away from her pacing, but he had been silent for the most part. Still she could feel his eyes on her back, even without the wind’s confirmation that he stared at her. It was either harshness or silence from all of them and it was becoming too much for her to bear. 

When the sun started to fall behind the western treetops and there was still no sign of Civyl or Nivia, hope started to give way to despair. Where was he? What if he’d fallen into danger or finally decided to continue his quest without her? She didn’t know which one would be worse. Fiora sunk to her knees in the grass and sobbed into her hands.

The breeze caressed her fingers and she dropped her hands so it could dry her tears. Words breathed against her cheek. Please don’t cry. At least that’s what she thought the wind was saying. The words were halting and too quick. So unlike the usual unrushed speech of the air. Don’t cry, it repeated. I will sing.

Sing? She posed the question wondering what the wind might have meant, but instead of answering her, a haunting melody filled the evening air coming from somewhere beyond the tree line. Her worries forgotten, Fiora stood and approached the sound in awe. How could the wind be singing? 

The End

0 comments about this story Feed