The Veil of Danu

Unexpected Connections (14)

The days slipped by in Avila, each one blurring into the next, and with them, a sense of normalcy began to settle over me. The city was vast, filled with people who didn't look twice at my red hair or the faint sense of unease I carried from my past. Here, my appearance was just another thing in a sea of differences, easily overlooked. It was a welcome relief, a kind of invisibility I hadn't known I needed.

I fell into a rhythm once again, doing odd jobs to earn my keep—cooking and cleaning at the inn, delivering goods for local merchants, and lending a hand where I could. But it wasn't just the work that filled my days. Slowly, I started making connections, learning the names of the people who passed through the market or worked at the forge. One name stood out above the others: Davin, the blacksmith.

Davin was a man of few words but many smiles, quick to offer a friendly nod when I passed by. He had a warm, chestnut-brown hair that curled just a little at the ends, and his broad shoulders were well-suited to his trade. I had met him a few times on my deliveries to his forge, and though we'd exchanged polite pleasantries, I hadn't paid much attention to him at first.

But after a while, he started making his way to the inn more often, stopping by for a meal after work. He'd claim he was fond of my cooking, which, as far as I knew, was hardly anything special, but he'd never miss a chance to chat, and over time, I found myself looking forward to our conversations.

I'd usually be washing dishes or sweeping up when he'd arrive, and he'd sit at the counter, leaning in slightly as if eager to hear whatever I had to say. He asked about my travels, always gentle in his curiosity. He never pressed when I gave short, guarded answers, but his persistence in being kind started to chip away at the walls I'd carefully built.

It wasn't fast, the way we grew closer—it was small, gradual. I found myself seeking him out in the forge when I had a few extra minutes, watching him work the bellows or shape metal with careful precision. He'd glance up with a grin, asking if I wanted to try my hand at the forge, though I'd always decline. We settled into an easy silence, comfortable in each other's presence without the need for constant words. It was an unexpected sort of companionship, one I wasn't sure I had the strength to embrace, but it felt good.

It wasn't until one evening, several weeks into our casual friendship, that things shifted. Davin had come to the inn after a long day at the forge, and as always, he lingered, chatting with me while I tidied up the common room. As the sun set and the last few patrons drifted off, he stayed, his presence warm against the cool night air.

"You've been quiet tonight," he remarked, watching me as I wiped down a table.

I paused, glancing over at him. "Just thinking," I replied, feeling a little more exposed than usual.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly curious, but he didn't push. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his voice softening.

"You know, Rowan," he said slowly, "I've noticed something about you. You've got a way of keeping things to yourself. You're always moving, always busy—never letting people get too close."

I straightened up, unsure how to respond. I hadn't realized I was being that obvious. "I've been through a lot," I said simply, not wanting to elaborate.

Davin's expression softened, his usual easy grin replaced with something more thoughtful. "I'm not trying to pry. I just want you to know that I'm here. If you ever need to talk, or if you need something..." He let the sentence trail off, but the offer was there, unspoken yet clear.

I didn't know what to say at first. The last thing I had expected from this easy-going blacksmith was such genuine concern. It felt... strange, but not unwelcome.