Hexe - The Great Exodus

[CH. 0004] - Moonbay

Mir-Grande-Carta

Type: Proper noun

Translation: Great Continent

Definition: A continent comprising the regions of Faewood, Spiyles, Keblurg, Sogrestein, Skoe Scana, Cragua, Ostesh, and Aspana. It is also referred to as 'the human land,' indicative of its primarily human population and governance.

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The remnants of last night's festivity were strewn about the camp like the results of a small but vibrant typhoon. A few Magis snored amid the backdrop of a disassembled stage and emptied barrels of beer. Here and there, a faerie lay tucked beneath benches now cluttered with food crumbs and dishes stained with spilt drinks.

Inside his tent, Yeso was nestled among an indulgent pile of plush pillows. His sleep-addled brain barely registered the persistent nudging against his head. "Five more minutes, my love," he mumbled into the fabric, a sleepy grin curling his lips.

The nudging continued unabated. With a contented sigh, he turned his face, expecting the warm touch of Noctavia—only to be met by the wet slap of a wolf's tongue across his cheek.

"Howl, really?" Yeso sat up and cleaned his cheek with the back of his hand. He blinked away the haze of sleep to find himself alone in the tent with the Howling Night. The wolf had laid himself out in a clear invitation, presenting his belly for a rub, tail wagging expectantly.

"You're the Howling Night! The very essence of the embodiment of time itself!" Yeso exclaimed in mock exasperation. "And you're telling me you want belly rubs?"

The wolf's tail thumped against the ground, its eyes twinkling with a playful mischief.

Yeso shook his head, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. Then, with a resigned sigh, he gave in to the creature's simple request. As his fingers made contact with the wolf's belly, Noctavia entered their tent.

She returned, balancing two dishes and two mugs of clay in her arms. One was laden with an assortment of colourful fruits; the other held an item that immediately captured Yeso's attention. The familiar, divine aroma of apple pie wafted through the air, invading his senses and making his mouth water. Yeso was a man of simple tastes, content with little. But apple pie? That was his sweet spot.

Setting the dishes down, Noctavia took a seat beside him. Yet, Yeso's gaze was fixated on the golden-brown crust of the freshly baked pie before him.

"Eyes up here," Noctavia said playfully.

His eyes reluctantly tore away from the pie to meet hers, but only for a moment before they darted back down. "That looks..." he began, but words failed him, eclipsed by his near-reverence for the pie.

Chuckling, Noctavia slid the plate toward him. "Here," she said, handing him a fork and a mug filled with steaming tea.

As Yeso cut into the pie and watched as the molten filling oozed out, a sense of simple joy washed over him. Yeso paused, fork in mid-air, as his joy mingled with a pang of guilt.

Noctavia had woken early to make this pie, a labour of love, and here he was, about to savour it alone. He looked over at her as she peeled an orange, and the guilt settled in his gut like a stone dropped into a still pond.

He picked up a small piece. and then moved it toward Noctavia's lips.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyebrows arching.