The Weaver's Source

Chapter 5

I woke, blinking up at the ceiling. At first I couldn't work out why I felt so strange and confused. I had slept well and Gabi was snoring loudly next to me. The sun was up so it wasn't that early in the morning either. It took me a moment to realise that the familiar hot ache and faint scent of winter weren't filling me to the core. I tried to remember the dream but only darkness filled my memory. I didn't remember the feel of his mouth on my skin, his hands holding mine or that burning sensation when his body took me. Only one thing could explain why I couldn't remember having it last night. I didn't have the dream.

I froze and my heart jumped. I didn't have the dream. I really didn't have the dream. I always had that dream. It differs, yes, but it's the same man making love to me every night, it had been for well over seven years. Never had there been a night after my eighteenth birthday where I slept and dreamt of nothingness. I glanced wildly at Gabi who was once again sleeping in the least ladylike way. I didn't want to tell her. She would gloat about it and then get very excitable. I just couldn't quite take in the fact my Weaver was nearby. How did I find him? How did I even know who he was? What was he like? Would he even like me? Would he even know what I was to him? My head began to throb from the panic. I needed some fresh air.

I rolled out of bed and quickly pulled on some thick boots. Leaving Gabi where she was, I made my way outdoors and breathed in the cold morning air. It was quite early with the low hanging mist breaking and the sky was a pale blue with a edge of pink to it. I gathered the skirts of my shift and settled on the wonky step of my house, unable to process the meaning of my dreamless sleep and the strong likely-hood my Weaver was nearby, but, gradually, the numb sensation began to give way and let loose a whole bombardment of emotion. Joy, giddiness, panic and terror all filled me to the core.

My thoughts frantically tore about my head, pinging in every direction and never settling. When did he appear? Otto's request for a Weaver wouldn't have reached the city so fast. The Weaver must've been here since yesterday for the dream to never occur. Why hadn't he come to find me? Did he not sense me? My thoughts shifted gear rapidly and I wondered what he was like. I always imagined him to be gentle and kind, someone who guarded me but also leaned on my strength willingly, teaching me how to hunt monsters. He tended to be demanding and passionate in my dreams, even seemed to enjoy the power he had over me. I shivered a little as my body warmed suddenly at the memory of past dreams and anxious embarrassment burned. I buried my face in my hands, trying to hide my hot cheeks from the world. If just remembering his touch from a dream was enough to get a reaction then I didn't want to meet him. I'd make little more than a fool out of myself.

I remained where I was, knuckles pressed against my mouth as I wrestled with my beating heart and wild thoughts. I was torn about meeting him. After over seven years of waiting, I was excited at having finally been found. I'd finally be where I was meant to be, learning how to use my magic and hunt. I was scared though at the way I would react to him and what he would be like. Most importantly whether or not we would get on and enjoy one another's company.

I stilled as the wind swept me by, tugging at my thick hair and thin shift and bringing a scent with it. The smell of snow and woodsmoke and the taste of thick honey to swell in my mouth. My magic reacted to it, warming my skin and humming in my chest, urging me to find whoever it was I was tasting. I had no choice. My body rose on its own accord, my feet pacing through the deep grass as my magic tugged me onwards.

With every step I took, the song of magic grew stronger. I could feel its strength and began to detect a masculine shade to it, a potency I hadn't tasted in any other mages I had come across. It made my pulse quicken and my skin warm, my heart fluttering with excitement. I knew this song. I knew it.

I pushed through the shrubs and delved deeper between the evenly spread aspens and limes, taken closer to the rivers banks until I came to an abrupt stop. Some steps from me was the edge of the river, its shallows slipping over sodden earth and the heavy boots of a man.