Eliona's War 3: Lethal Healer

Ch. 5

The young woman knelt on the grass, carefully sewing the edge of a heavy, black material. There was a small knife clamped between her lips, and her expression was the very picture of concentration.

Severance approached slowly, careful not to disturb her. Not that it made much difference; his footfalls were as soundless as the shifting shadows of night. Even without conscious thought, he flowed across the ground without a sound or trace.

Some of her dark hair had pulled free from its leather tie, sticking to the side of her damp face. Sunlight shone down on them, warm and bright, and it caught the slender needle in her fingertips, which flashed every time she drew it through the material.

He smiled to himself and sat on the grass across from her. With a quiet sigh, Vast settled down beside him.

The needle paused. Mouna glanced up.

Her dark eyes immediately found his. She wasn't one to smile, or even show much of what she was feeling, but he'd learned to watch her eyes. They often gave away hints, and he saw one now as they seemed to soften, the sharp line of focus fading away.

He lifted a hand and made a simple hand sign. Hello.

She took the knife from her mouth, set it aside, and signed back solemnly.

Hello. How are you?

He made the sign for well, which was true, because at this moment, he felt pretty good. Somehow, everything else seemed to fade away and become unimportant.

She tilted her head, just a bit, and simply looked at him in silence. He looked back, taking in the way her sunlit cheeks seemed to glow. She was, he thought, really nice to look at.

He leaned forward. What are you making?

This close, he could tell the material was a type of leather. It looked soft and pliable, and he wasn't sure if its natural color was black or if she'd dyed it. The Veiled never wore anything other than black. He'd asked Maun about it once, but never got a straight answer.

Wait a while, she signed, and resumed sewing.

He watched, finding the steady push and pull of the needle to be fascinating. Sometimes, she used the knife to cut the thread before tying it tightly in a tiny knot. Then she stretched out a fresh length of thread, often twisting two strands together to thicken it, and stitched another section.

It looked like delicate and complex work, and he admired her for it. There was no way he could create something as skillfully as she.

A chime rang out, signaling a system notification. Severance sat up straight.

You have received a message from Chad. Do you want to Open Message?

"Yes," he said.

When Mouna glanced his way, he signed, message from friend. Without showing any reaction, she returned to her work.

Chad's message was extremely informative and deeply complex, for his response was an elaborate:

"Here."

That was it.

Severance snorted. It was a miracle that the man even managed to communicate as well as he did. He sent a return message:

"Okay, thanks. I'm just waiting for everyone else to log in, and then I'll be doing the raid. I'll talk to you after."

The response he got was: "Yes."

That highly stimulating exchange over, Severance returned to watching Mouna. Only now, she was setting aside her tools. His gaze followed her as she rose, lifting the material that she'd been working on. She shook it out, letting it unravel to its full length.