The Winds of the Past [Rune Factory 4]

Chapter 34

"Your... your what?" I exclaimed, staring at her. Although I had thought that she must have had lovers in her forgotten past, I still found the fact disconcerting when actually confronted with it.

"My lover," she repeated. "How could I have forgotten him so... so completely? I feel sick about it—that I could have just moved on like that."

"So... he meant a lot to you, then?" I asked, feeling the early pangs of jealousy stirring in my chest.

"Yes... yes, I think he did. I... I wish I could remember more. I know that we weren't supposed to be together, but I don't know why. I know he was killed, but I don't know why or by whom. I don't remember meeting him... but at least now I can remember his touch and his kisses... and him."

I held very still, almost afraid to move—afraid of what her next words might be. Uno looked up at me, then crept over and rested his chin on my knee. In my head, I heard him say, "Be at ease. Avani loves you, Leon."

I smiled gratefully at the fox, then stroking her hair, I said in a low voice, "Why don't you tell me about him? Talking will help the memories take root, so you're less likely to forget again. And it sounds as though these memories are too important to you to let them slip away again."

She looked quickly up at me, surprised by my suggestion, then leaned her head against me for a moment. She slid over my thigh and sat between my legs, and pulled my arms around her as she leaned her back against my stomach. I rested my cheek against her hair as I held her tightly, and I waited.

"Like I said, I don't remember how we happened to meet. I only have little fragments of memory—a few events. I can remember the first time he said he loved me... the first time we kissed... the first time we made love. But... not how we met." She paused and sighed.

"Perhaps you don't remember because you'd known each other since you were very young?" I suggested.

"Maybe. I just don't know." She sighed regretfully before continuing. "He was a beautiful man, tall and straight and strong, with long, deep green hair like the cedar forests and eyes like the night sky—dark and full of stars. I don't recall his vocation, but I do remember he played a sort of a harp-like instrument, I think it was called a sur-mandal. His was exceptionally beautiful, I seem to remember, painted like a... like a peacock's feather," she said glancing at my fan lying on the bedside table and smiling. "He played it very well, though like I said, I don't remember if he was a musician by profession or not. He had a beautiful voice, soft and sweet. He himself was a very gentle, kind man. If he hadn't been so gentle... maybe he wouldn't have died." Her voice sounded a little strained, as if choked with tears.

After a moment, she went on. "He... I don't remember much about how he died. I think I lived in the mountains somewhere. Not like the ones around here, though—my impression is of heat and humidity, and vivid green, lush growth. Anyway, I think we'd been walking in the woods in the mountains, and someone found us. We weren't supposed to see each other, I think, and the person that found us was... was infuriated. They fought, but Sundara wasn't a fighter, and the other man... he pushed him, near the edge of a precipice. He slipped and fell.... I tried to reach him—I ran and threw myself down to grab him.... I caught his hand, but I didn't have a good enough hold on him, and I wasn't strong enough. The man that pushed him refused to help, though I can remembering begging him. And then... and then he slipped from my hand...." She put her head down and began to sob again.

I sat and held her tightly in my arms, and let her cry herself out. After a time, her sobbing slowed and gradually subsided. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and leaned into me. With a sigh, she said, "I remember now, too, that I tried to follow—tried to leap after him. But that man grabbed me and hauled me back, and he wouldn't let me go. I think he threatened me... but I can't remember much that has to do with him. Whenever I think of him, I'm filled with such terror, I freeze. I don't know who he was or what kind of hold he had on me, but he terrifies me even now—even though I don't know where he is or even if he's alive or dead."