To Rule the Alpha's Heart

23. A Luna's Duty (Part 2)

CALLA VORONÍN

Calla's heart skipped as she spun to face the source of the angry voice.

An elder male stood several paces behind her in the river, wrinkled face contorted in a scowl. He glared daggers at the bundle of leathers that Calla held in one hand, ready to wash.

"You want to scrub holes in all of our clothing?!" he shouted, more of an accusation than a question.

"I–" Calla began, but, when her eyes flickered to the robe she'd just finished washing, she realized that she had no defense. Where the fabric had been previously smooth, the threads were now pulled out of place, creating little snags and holes across the garb. Had she done that?

Out of the corner of her eye, Calla noticed Cyril shift nearer the shoreline at the commotion, prepared to intervene. But she didn't want the translator to rush to her aid every time she found herself at odds with one of the Nortend shifters.

So, Calla took a deep breath, lifting her chin to the salt and pepper-haired man. It took all of her willpower not to wither under his scornful gaze.

"And would you like to teach me the proper way? Or were you planning to stand and ridicule me all morning?" she questioned, brows raised expectantly.

The old shifter blinked, as if he hadn't expected such a venom-laced response. Beneath a ragged beard of gray, one corner of his mouth twitched. Calla couldn't decide if it was a smile or frown.

Before the old shifter could reply or Cyril could interfere, another voice rose above the quiet river ripple. "Pay Malkän no attention, Luna. Allow me to show you the washing."

Calla turned again. This time, a gray-haired woman approached with a simple leather hide draped across her forearm. The skin around her eyes, which were a lovely pale blue, crinkled as she smiled, and Calla immediately felt at-ease. This woman, at least, seemed kinder than the other elder, Malkän.

"Thank you," Calla murmured, turning entirely from Malkän to face her savior. She thought she heard the old male grumble something in the Nortend tongue as he stalked away.

The old woman finished navigating the knee-length water, halting beside the rock that Calla had been using to scrub her share of the clothing. She draped the leather hide that was across her arm over the rock, covering the jagged edges in their entirety.

"We cover the rocks with hide," the old woman explained in a heavy accent, running a frail hand over the covered rock's surface. "This protects the clothing from rough edges."

Calla watched as the female took a pair of leather trousers out of the basket and started scrubbing them against the rock. Despite her ferocious scrubbing, the trousers glided over the animal hide with ease. She wished that Idoneah had informed her of this before departing...

When the trousers were adequately cleaned, the silver-haired female tossed them on the shore to dry. She returned her gaze to Calla and smiled. "See?"

Calla nodded. "Thank you...?"

"My name Gudrun, Luna," she answered.

"Thank you, Gudrun," Calla amended with a smile.

Gudrun allowed Calla to keep the animal hide that was draped over her rock. Much to Calla's pleasure, her new friend offered to stay by her side throughout the remainder of the morning. They created a system, alongside Lucia and Iva, wherein they took turns scrubbing and drying the fabrics. The sun had reached its peak by the time they'd finished all of their baskets.

Calla groaned as she stepped out of the shallows, rubbing at an ache in her lower back. Her fingers had turned red and raw, and her own clothing was damp with sweat. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worked so hard. It felt... good.