From Ashes and Snow

Dusty Shelves

Chapter Eight: Dusty Shelves.

The next morning, I dressed in the simple blue tunic that had been left for me. It was slightly too big for me, but I laced the belt tight and yanked buck-skin trousers of my long legs. I met my reflection in the mirror with a twinge of disdain. I had only come across a mirror a handful of times. Being a fisherman's daughter meant that I did not come across expensive things often and in Dratlan, it wasn't something we allowed ourselves to indulge in.

At first glance, I was Elven. My cheekbones were sharply cut, and my ears were long but not long or elegant enough to be fully-Elven. My jaw was just a little too square for the sharp cut of an Elf's. My eyes were just green, unlike the alluring, timeless beauty of the Elves. My hair was always kept back and last night it had dried as I tossed and turned; it now lay as a tumbling mass of russet down my back. It was a hassle during training, but I could never bring myself to cut it.

My lip was fully set in disdain as I whirled away, tugging the fabric of my clothing tighter. Years of fighting and training had tightened my body but casting lessons and hunting had kept my mind sharp. Pity would rot it under the poisonous agony that was creeping in to replace every warm memory of a smile, or of a laugh. It would mask the faces of the people I loved and taint their memory.

I pulled my shoulders back and slicked my hair into a tight, swinging pony-tail as best I could as I stepped into the halls. You are confident. These humans weren't going to dismantle me with doubt and snide comments. You need them to find him.

They were a means to an end. Once I got what I wanted from them, I would be gone.

I made my way down the draft halls of Atoll. The wind whistled outside and seeped in through the walls, mixing the smell of human and rain together. The torch light barely clung to life along the lone corridors, the measly flame encased in glass; barely keeping the shadows from stretching out to encompass my sight.

A pang of longing reverberated through me, aching behind my breastbone before I could stifle it. It lingered beneath my stern expression, and pursed lips. I slipped into the main foyer of Atoll. The fires from the night before still stirred, the embers flaring with every brush of wind in through the doors.

Now, it was choked with people. Soldiers milled about lazily, gossiping during their free-time. Servants dodged past, dressed in similar uniforms of grab greys and blacks with their arms bundled with clothing and food. It reminded me of a buzzing hive, where everyone concentrated on their own little missions but it all worked towards the common good.

Only this little hive seemed sombre. There were bodies of friends to be buried and mourned, and the Paladins would grieve over their revered Commander. I hadn't known him like they did, but he seemed to be a good man.

Then there was Kohen. He sat silently on a beam that ran along the ceiling, with his tail swinging beneath him like the pendulum of a clock. Gold touched eyes watched the chaos peacefully, his brows soft. I wondered before I could stop myself, if he did this often? If he just sat and watched, listened to the world passing around him.

Those eyes flickered to me. A smile pulled at his peaceful expression and he pushed himself off the beam, landing several feet below him with ease. Apprehension pursed my lips as I watched him approach. A drop like that would have broken the knees of any human and drove the bones up into their hips. It would have damaged my legs, and they were strong, but he didn't falter or stumble.

"You didn't sleep well. Do you feel better now?"

"Good morning to you too, Kohen." I shifted uncomfortably. "I think you would know if I wasn't."