The Heart & The Heir

Chapter 3

Blessedly free of the ruckus of Rhycilla's acquired burden, what they made up for in speed, they lost in stealth. Azkin rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration as she prattled away about this or that. At present, she was regaling him with a tale about her Uncle Orry and his lame mule.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to suppress his rising temper. It was nearly midday, the sun high in the sky, and the only thing Azkin craved more than silence was for something to eat.

"Rhycilla," Azkin snapped, whirling around to face her. "I'm hungry. I'm sure you are too. If you persist in talking, you are going to scare all the game away."

"Oh," she said, dropping her gaze to the ground. "I'm sorry."

Immediately, Azkin felt guilty for shaming her. "Listen, I'm sorry," he responded, pulling his cap from his head, running his hands through his hair. "Let's take a break, drink some water, and rest. I'll go set some snares and find us some dinner."

Rhycilla nodded, swiping her sleeve across her nose. There was a moment where they stared at one another, like either was about to speak. The moment passed, and with a shake of his head, Azkin slipped soundlessly between the trees.

Rhycilla crossed her arms, sticking her tongue out after Azkin. When there came no reply, she sagged, her arms falling to her sides. With a sigh, she sank to the ground, taking a seat right where she stood, on a large flat rock, overhanging the small river the stream had become.

A sudden splash broke the calm surface, startling Rhycilla. She gasped, the water droplets cool on her warm skin. Instinctively, her eyes darted to the thick trees lining the bank, thinking Azkin was playing a trick on her.

Straining her ears, she listened to the sounds of the forest. The hum of the bees in the trees, the songs of the birds far off, the gurgle of the water flowing past. Nothing seemed out of place. Another splash broke the water's surface, the droplets landing on her skirt and arms.

Leaning forward on her hands and knees, she peered past her own filthy reflection, to the flash of silver beneath the surface. Fish were breaching the surface, dining on the mayflies skimming the water. An idea sparked in her mind. Rhycilla plunged her hands into both her pockets, dumping the contents across the stone. With a satisfied "ah hah," Rhycilla darted to the forest's edge, tugging on a low-lying shrub.

Coming away with a green Y-shaped branch, she reclaimed her seat on the shore, busying herself with whatever she had pulled from her pocket. When she had finished, she brandished a crude fishing net.

In a matter of minutes, Rhycilla had three goodly sized fish lining the shore. "Now to cook you," she said, lifting her gaze from the fish to the nearby woods. "Perfect." Rising to her feet, she trotted off into the brush.

***

Azkin fumed. Doubling his pace, flying over the forest floor, putting as much distance between himself and Rhycilla. That attitude of hers, the sound of her voice, and that long flowing silver hair. He pushed himself, running faster, setting himself free, free of her.

After he had gone far enough, his blood pumping and his breath coming fast and hard, he set himself down on a fallen log, tugging his cap from his head, combing his hands through his hair. A small squirrel landed on the far end of the fallen tree, eyeing him suspiciously. "How can one person be so annoying?" he asked the squirrel.

The animal replied with a small squeak of its own before darting back into the trees.

"That's what I thought," he grumbled.

Replacing his cap, he pulled his knife from his boot and set to work cutting long thin strips of wood from the log for a snare. It was hard and precise work. The strip had to be one continuous piece for it to work effectively. It took Azkin five or six tries before he carved a suitable piece. Then another four before he harvested a second.