commander

mom

Torra

After an hour of riding at such an emotional low, my family house finally appeared on the far horizon, the dead plants lightly dusted with minuscule water droplets.

As the path becomes a road, more traffic begins to show along the wide dirt, and the horse is scared to a slow trot. As people recognize her face, she is yet again greeted with odd glares. Some are just smiles and nods. It might be Nala's improved image, her hair curlier and prettier, her face clean and clear, but it might be the 'mistress' riding right behind her.

Shit.

"Torra." She twisted around and whispered calmly. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight, despite the worried look on her face. She must have figured it out. "You aren't Jonah." She smiled sadly as I stepped off the horse and took the reins, walking the horse dutifully.

"Should we go to the palace? Something just doesn't feel right and I don't want to take any chances with you." I put my hand on her knee as I looked up at her. She looked so gorgeous.

I am so in love.

"If something doesn't feel right, we shouldn't go. Where do we go then?" She asked quietly.

"We could wait outside the town?" I suggested.

"It would get too cold after dark."

"My house?" I looked slightly to the right where my family's home sat on farmland.

"Alright. Your house it is."

We agreed and made our way quickly out of the populated area. As soon as prying eyes were no longer on us, I climbed on to the back of the saddle as the horse made the quick journey to my family home.

I jumped off the horse and held out my hand, and Nala took it gladly, hopping off the horse and walking to the door with her hand still in mine. I knelt down and flipped a few stones before grabbing a small key and fitting it into the lock on the door. I replaces the key under the stone and opened the door, locking it behind Nala.

"Are you hungry? I am." I walked past the three couches and towards the kitchen, which consisted of an oven and stove, as well as cabinets of food and pots, and even an icebox.

I grabbed beef wrapped in wax paper from the icebox, which sent and cold draft throughout the otherwise warm house. I also pulled a tall green bottle of wine and grabbed two glasses from the cabinet next to the icebox. I poured a large amount of wine into each glass and passed one to Nala.

"Cheers." We both said and took deep sips. I set his glass down while Nala finished most of the glass.

"Thirsty?" I asked as he began chopping at the beef. She was taking that bottle of wine by storm.

Nala managed to laugh awkwardly and fidget with her fingers. She looked reminiscently at her palms before flipping them over and playing with her fingers.

I filled her glass again, not nearly as much as before, just enough to keep her sober. As I set the glass down, Nala finished all of the mediocre wine in her glass.

I looked up from the raw meat quickly but turned my gaze down to the beef again. After a few minutes of standing awkwardly in the kitchen, I poured the meat onto a griddle and started to cook it. "We have a few shelves of books if you'd like to read." I pointed to a shelf pushed against the front wall of the house. Nala got up with the wine glass and walked slowly to the shelf, observing every minuscule detail of my family's home, every painting on the wall, the carvings of height for every sibling as the years carried on.

Nala noticed every book on the shelf, reading each and every label on the spine. The shelves held hundreds of books, and yet she still was able to make the decision of the Bible, a controversial book that I had read many times. She set the book down on the couch and walked back into the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine and fill her glass without giving me a glance.