Inked

6

"Thanks for that, but I could've figured it out," Farid told Dustfinger, though it wasn't completely true.

"I swear, it wasn't me." The response was not what Farid expected.

"What do you mean it wasn't you? How many other skilled fire-eaters do you see in this camp?" He pretended to look around for emphasis.

"Maybe you just didn't realize how good you've gotten." Dustfinger ruffled Farid's dark hair and ducked into his tent, where Roxane and Jehan were already sleeping.

Farid said nothing more, but he knew it hadn't been him who had created those fiery masterpieces. He just wasn't that skilled. Even Dustfinger rarely performed tricks so detailed and extravagant. So who had done it? His heart suddenly froze, despite the fire coursing through him, at the thought that maybe Sootbird had managed to find them. No, no, it couldn't be him. Even it Sootbird had returned, it surely would've been to harm and not to help.

A light flashed at his feet, and he looked down to see a message written in letters of fire. He couldn't read it of course, but the wind carried the message to his ear. Farid, it said, come here. Soleil.

"Soleil? Oh! The girl!" Farid changed course and headed for the sick tent. He walked in to find only an old man sleeping peacefully.

Upon exiting the tent, he ran straight into someone. "Farid?"

"Meggie?" Farid's eyes adjusted to the darkness - someone had just put out the fire - and he looked into her eyes, at her bright hair surrounding her head like a halo. But he didn't see her.

"Where's Soleil?"

"Who?" Meggie's tone was accusatory, and Farid couldn't help but flinch.

"The girl!" he hissed, willing her to calm down. He wanted to know why the mysterious girl had called for him. If Meggie started making assumptions, he would never leave this spot.

"Hmph!" Meggie huffed and stalked off to her tent. Women! Farid thought to himself.

Out loud he said, "That doesn't answer my question!" Meggie didn't acknowledge him, simply slipped into the collection of fabric that was her temporary home.

"Fine. I'll find her myself," Farid muttered. The camp was pitch black; he could only make out the silhouettes of various tents. He called to the fire and it answered, snaking through the vicinity, searching for the girl. Where it stopped he went to.

A small sand-colored tent, made to house a single person. He lifted up a flap, about to send one more signal when a voice spoke out. "Come in," it said, and Farid obeyed.

She looked so much better, not so pale, not so drained. Her auburn hair hung in curls around her face, and he wondered where she was from. He had never seen her in all his time here in the Inkworld and surely, with her beauty, Orpheus would've gotten a hold of her as soon as possible.

"What is it?" she asked, and he realized he had been staring. She was speaking quietly; they were the only ones still awake. There was hardly any light to see her by. A tiny lantern stood on the grass between them.

Farid shook his head and asked, "Why did you call me here?" It sounded rougher than he had intended. He cleared his throat but said nothing else.

"I can't sleep. Roxane gave me medicine for the pain but I still feel it." Farid sensed she was holding something back but didn't feel he had the right to ask. He shrugged as if to say, What do you expect me to do about it?

They were enveloped by an awkward silence in which Farid twiddled his fingers, sparks popping between them. "It was me." He looked up at the girl, not sure if he had imagined her speaking or not.

"What -- what was you?" he asked, though he had an idea.

"Your show tonight," she replied, confirming his thoughts. "The eagle, the boat..." She hesitated. "Your dance," she finished with a small smile. "Those were my touch."

Farid grinned tentatively, not sure how she wanted him to react. "Thank you." It came out sounding like a question and silence clouded around them again. Farid could hear the fairies chattering in their nests close by.

An orange flower grew in his fist, and he opened his hand, holding it out to her as a show of gratitude. It flickered in his palm and almost wilted in his fingertips. How hard it was to be comfortable around her! Farid felt as if everything he did was wrong. Nevertheless, the girl -- Soleil, what an odd name -- beamed as she took the flaming beauty into her adept hands. She lay down and closed her eyes, and the flower evaporated in her grip, leaving behind a pleasant warmth. Farid took this as his permission to leave, and he went to his own tent, completely baffled at this new, strange, skilled girl.