A Healer's War

Chapter 22 - The Hidden Cove

Chapter 22: The Hidden Cove

Wednesday - April 18th

Translated from:

Disc - Shepherd's Stone

Sub-ring - Accounts

Script - The Hidden Cove

Link unknown, the Seed provides that space which its Host cannot find elsewhere. The Cove reflects a where, but no perceivable when, and is woven from the deepest parts of the Host's soul. Here, all needs are met by the earth. Storms brew when the Host's anger cries, the sunbeams when their spirits are high, and its entrance is little more than a wrinkle in time.

In this place, rest is found.

In this place, the Seed is safe.

Amendment (s):

(224 AA) - Safety is not guaranteed.

—

Caroline had been right about Jacklyn's grey mood.

From the edge of the surf, Rory watched a thick fog roll in from the sea, blanketing everything in a damp cold. Through it, he caught glimpses of the crashing waves and heard the gulls call out from the encroaching mist. Somewhere out there, he imaged a sun, bright, warm, and beautiful, ready to peek out and bask them all. But as the clouds continued their endless crawl past him, he shivered and grew doubts about the light. Wishing he'd worn a thicker jacket, Rory found the Cove was little like the tropical paradise he'd seen before.

Jacklyn, still wearing a floral shirt and baggy shorts, barely spoke to him after stomping over from their camp. It was more a grunt and a scowl than a hello. She whispered heatedly to Caroline, and they moved further down the surf line before they continued their argument. Rory tried to eavesdrop, but the wind and his chattering teeth made it impossible. So, instead, he waited, enjoying the crash of the tide, and relieved he wasn't Maxwell.

The teen stood up to his waist in the surf, about twenty feet away, arms wrapped around himself and shivering. Caroline insisted he 'cool his mind' before talking with Jacklyn, but Rory didn't see how a bath and hypothermia would help. He also knew he was out of his depth with magic, but got nervous a minute ago when Maxwell's lips turned blue. Standing alone in the sea, the teen looked so young and reminded Rory that only six years ago, he'd had his own brief stint without a home. Help was rare back then, but when it came, it kept you fueled.

Rory's revelry broke when the bubbling surf encroached on his shoes. He stepped back, wondering how much longer before he needed to intervene for Maxwell's safety. Trying to be discreet, he glanced over at Caroline and Jacklyn standing several car lengths away. Neither of them seemed to notice as the water washed over their bare feet.

Mid-argument, Jacklyn's pale face flushed bright red, and she pointed forcefully at Rory. Over the wind, he heard something about bad habits but didn't have any context to place the meaning. Rory studied Caroline, impressed that her composure never wavered as she absorbed Jacklyn's temper. The tall, whip-thin woman spoke briefly during pauses and then allowed Jacklyn to vent again. The longer it went, the more Rory glimpsed that the fog bank thickened, darkening the cove. Rory looked between Jacklyn and the fog. Is she... doing that? Shaking his head, Rory dismissed the idea. But when Jacklyn stomped her foot, thunder rolled in the distance. Wow...

Finally, Jacklyn's anger seemed spent, and she muttered to herself, kicking at the water as she marched shin-deep in the surf. Caroline folded her hands and watched her patiently.

"Come here, Maxwell," Jacklyn said with no apparent effort, but even from twenty feet down the beach, it sounded to Rory like she stood beside him—like surround sound at a theater. He turned, expecting to see a speaker, but found only little brown sandpipers scurrying in and out of the waves. The wind carried her words.