The Sacred Rhythm Of The Moors

Chapter 4

The black clouds slowly disappeared as I walked through the damp grass. The pear shaped portion of the remaining water adhered to the surface of land. Yellow butterflies fluttered it's golden wings and swept across the warm cold spring breeze. The visible rays of light which fell on the open grass made the yellow fields glimmer, as if burning for more. The storm did heavy damage to some of the trees. It split it's branches while few stood without a scratch, unharmed.
We were silent, except the sound of the fallen branches crunching under our feet as we walked conspicuously beside each other.

"How much longer?" Adrian asked groaning.

"A little bit more," I said, as I looked at him and climbed on the horse using my right foot first. I held her lead with my left arm, pulling myself up steadily.

"Hey! That's not fair!" He cried behind and came jogging towards us. We moved slowly to let him catch up to us. He looked at me every once in a while but didn't say anything.

"How long have you been here?" he asked me casually after a while.

"My whole life." 

"And you get lost in the middle of a storm," he snorted.

"I didn't get lost. I was well aware of the presence of that hut and that place. I go there often," I said, irritated.

He nodded and stared at me for a while.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, calmly. "It's just that if that were true, I would have seen you around." His voice resembled velvet, smooth and soothing. He could easily persuade or manipulate others into believing whatever came out of his mouth.

"Well, you haven't," I said, defending myself. "It's been a while since I last came here." I was lying obviously, but he doesn't have to know that.

"Right. Of course," he said and kept walking.

We walked with dripping silence between us for a while until the village road came into our notice. The people were mostly resting under their sheds which explained the empty roads and thinner crowds than usual.

"That's your village," Adrian said, mostly to himself. He looked straight ahead, his curious foreign eyes lingering and scanning the depths of the village. I nodded although he can't see me.

"Let's go," he said.

We walked side by side carefully, not to step on any pits of dirt that resided due to the heavy rain. Well, not that it mattered since we were already soaked in water. Few eyes scanned Adrian's presence, not mine since most of them already knew me. Their faces revealed their spirits of enquiry as they watched us walk together. Horses and cows were put under roof of hay stacks. People slowly started to line up the roads speaking indistinctly, shouting and whispering as they moved. My eyes scanned for any signs of Eva in any of the shops but she wasn't there. She was probably as Theresa's. Without further ado I turned towards the guy I barely know with whom I decided to travel across the moors in a thunderstorm.

"Okay, so this is our village. You will find grain and everything else you need here," I tried to smile as I said. "Now I need to go. Goodbye."

I turned around to search for Eva. Before he could say anything else, I made my way across a crowd of women that gathered and headed ahead. I didn't look back knowing too well that this will probably be the last time I will ever see his face. My feet sank to the wet earth beneath me. The flowers bloomed brightly in various colours that stirred itself with the faint scent of dry spring grass.
I headed straight towards Theresa's house which was just along the far end side of one of Henry's sewing shops. It was not hard to find as I have been here often to run some errands. Their fence was wooden, like most of the houses in the village with a small wooden gate that creaked as I opened it slowly unhooking the thin rope from the scrap of wood. I walked inside. The house was small. Smaller than ours with few flowers encircling their front yard. I tightened the horse around a small pole and let it remain there in the sun for a while. I ascended the stairs at the front and knocked on the door. A tiny piece of stone hung above it. For good luck, I believe. Theresa's mother, Alice, opened the door. Dark circles were prominent under her eyes. She looked tired yet she gave me a warm, gentle smile.