The Lady Penitent

XXII. At the Edge

As I am, so too will you be...

Holland's eyes flickered open, the echoes of Deus's words lingering in her thoughts. Gods, but what she wouldn't give for one night of peace. By the time she had made it back to the fire with Orobas, her eyes had closed on their own for what seemed like only a moment. Now, she could hear birdsong as light stole across the eastern sky. No matter how exhausted she might have been, however, true rest was beyond her fingertips.

"I was just about to check for a pulse," Khagra said with amusement as she sliced pieces off an apple for herself. She was always up early, yellow eyes open as soon as even suggestions of the sun touched the horizon.

"Don't start with me," Holland grumbled. She couldn't maintain much of a frown, though, not when the orc seemed to be in an unusually good mood. Khagra wasn't dour by any means, but it had been weeks since they last were really relaxed and happy. This was a definite indication that whatever had been said last night had been well received.

"Rude. I shouldn't hand this over just for that," the orc said, holding out a bowl of steaming oatmeal. "You really should take better care of yourself, you know. Not that you make a particularly good quiver, but you certainly did give it a fine try. That deserves commendation."

"You're in rare form." Holland glanced around as she sat up and took the bowl. It was plain, but her mouth was watering anyway. Khagra had been kind enough to mix in pieces of apple and some kind of nut for protein. It had been a while since she last ate, to be certain, and she was grateful for this much. There was no sign of the others, though the camp was coming awake. "Where's Vladan and your future husband?"

Khagra flicked an apple-seed at her to demonstrate her displeasure with the tease. "Elsewhere," she said airily.

The penitent brushed the seed off with mock irritation. "How old are you, ten?" She couldn't help a smile. "I'm glad your talk went well."

"His stammering was endearing," Khagra admitted. There was something girlish and soft about her smile, which was a strange expression on an orcish face. "So much for the bravery of Yssan knights."

"If he managed to get two words out, I call it brave. Gods know that's more than some can do," Holland said.

"True enough. Now shut up and eat before you waste away to nothingness." Khagra stretched lazily as she spoke, loosening up her shoulders. "I have plans for you."

Holland raised an eyebrow questioningly, but wisely kept eating. She knew Khagra wasn't above cuffing her if she didn't obey. The orc very much came from the school of tough love. As bad as a veteran decanus on a sour day, she thought with amusement. She glad, though. It made it difficult to stay locked inside her own head when their dragon-rider decided she needed to be pulled out.

"I'm going to teach you how to shoot a bow. It might be worthwhile. If nothing else, you can pull the arrows out of you and return fire next time." The orc looked altogether too pleased with the idea. "It should while away the time until Vladan and Ardashir come back from scouting."

"Why on the gods' green earth is Vladan scouting and not you?" Holland demanded, forgetting about food.

"Because I'm the healer. What if you had woken complaining of a fever because infection was eating away your insides? A lot of good he might have done you." Khagra flicked another apple-seed at her. "I sent Zajar with them in case there's trouble."

"Khagra, I deeply value their friendship, but the beast can't navigate his way out of a room with only one door and Ardashir is barely better."

"That is why I sent Zajar with them," the orc said. She grinned. "Relax, Holland. They are more than equal to the challenge of whatever they might find in the wetlands. Orobas says that road to the Vale is peaceful this time of year. I doubt they will find any danger."