Priestess

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"What just happened?" She asked while trying to conjure some moisture to sooth her cracked throat.

Lodan snorted and shook his head. "Bonding takes much strength."

"Bonding?" she asked.

"The process of linking our Gifts."

Ara didn't care anymore. Her thirst drove her. Shaking her head, she tentatively rolled over and folded her knees under her. She swayed, tipping precariously. A hand shot out to steady her. "Easy, Ara."

Too weak to even feel fear, she looked up to see Coen standing over her. She studied him blandly.

Coen eased her down. "I was wondering when you'd rejoin us." Reaching back, he pulled his waterskin around and offered her some. Without hesitation, she sucked long draughts of lukewarm water down her aching throat. She drank until her belly hurt. For a time, she thought she might throw it all back up. But eventually, the nausea passed. She relaxed against Lodan.

Retrieving a pan from his saddlebags, Coen filled it at the lake and offered Lodan a drink. Ara wasn't sure how many times he repeated this process. Finally, Lodan shook his head-he'd had enough. Coen left and returned a moment later with a blanket. He draped it over her and then bent over his flit and striker.

Glancing at Lodan, she noted the star under his horn. It was truly elegant, and pride welled at the thought that she had somehow placed it there. Suddenly remembering, she pulled her hand up to her own forehead. The skin felt normal, but she couldn't help but ask Lodan for certain. "Do I . . . is there-"

"Yes. You have a white star about the size of your thumbnail in the center of your forehead."

Ara reached up to touch it again. "What is it?"

Lodan lay his head on the ground. Through their bond, she felt his utter exhaustion. "The Nightstar-the symbol of the Priestess."

"So it's just some type of metaphor?" she asked in disbelief.

Lodan shifted beneath her. "Channelors, like the one on your forehead, link our minds. You will need training to perfect your Gift."

"Can you teach me?"

"Unicorns cannot control our Gift-it just is. We must find you another teacher. Perhaps a Fairone"

"Where will we find this teacher?"

"That, I cannot foresee."

They sat in silence. The crackling of the fire and the rhythmic sloshing of the waves pressed down upon her until her eye-lids closed of their own volition.

Far sooner than she wished, she felt herself waking. Then she remembered-Lodan, the light, her star, all of it. She bolted upright. Coen's blanket tumbled about her hips. Her eyes locked with his as she realized that she wore only her shift. Snatching the blanket, she pulled it under her chin. "Lodan, how could you let him see me like that!"

He looked at her quizzically.

"In my underclothes!" she said in exasperation.

"This is bad?"

How could she explain to a being that never wore clothes the importance of clothes? "Would you let someone see you without your fur?"

"Why would I ever be without my fur?"

Ara groaned. Coen must have noticed her discomfort. He stood to retrieve her clothes-scattered chaotically from the trees to the water. Averting his eyes, he handed them to her.