The TwiceBorn

To Yearn For What Has Been Lost

 "All that we have loved deeply becomes a part of us."--Helen Keller

 Alora watched as Islinn got to her feet and went over to the saddlebags and dug out another bowl and spoon.  Then the girl walked over to the cookpot and stood there.  She was obviously having some sort of internal struggle from the look on her face.  Alora waited. 

It would have been funny if it weren’t so pathetic and Alora had time to wonder about the mystery that was Behrin.  Keeping a girl as a body slave was one thing but why treat her like a common street dog?  The truly sad thing though about Islinn was she hadn’t always been a slave.

 “A person blind from birth doesn’t know what sight is so they don’t miss it.” Alora mused as she watched Islinn shift her weight from one foot to the other.  But Islinn was vastly different and twice as tragic.

She had grown up free born and somewhere along the way she’d been molded into this person who couldn’t decide for herself if she were hungry or not.  Being a slave had encompassed her life and erased everything within her that had made her a human being.  She was nothing but Behrin’s clean slate.  She would have been better off having been born a slave.

Alora stood up and took Islinn’s bowl from her hands and dipped out a hefty amount of the stew.

“Here.  Next time though…you get your own food, all right? However much you want.”  Alora smiled.  “Seems a shame to fix something this good and then have to wait for permission from someone to eat it.”

She held the bowl out to the girl.  Islinn studied the bowl then studied Alora.  Her face was guarded.

“What? You think I’m going to offer it then refuse you once you reach for…” Alora stopped.  That’s exactly what the girl thought.  Somewhere along the line Behrin must have played the keep away game with Islinn.  Even when Behrin had tagged along behind Alora for days on end she hadn’t felt his presence so much as she did now.

And people thought she was the evil one.

“Take the bowl, Islinn.  I don’t need to play games with any one for any reason.  If I offer you something, it’s because I want you to have it.  It’s that simple.” Alora softly said.

 There were not many events in life that Alora could honestly say had hurt her heart.  If she'd been asked pointblank  for an example and been unable to squirm out of a response, the murder of her Clan would have been her only answer. Until now.

 Islinn took the proffered bowl and Alora seated herself back by the fire.  She picked up her own bowl with shaking hands. She hadn’t wanted a traveling companion and she now had one that reminded her of just how cruel the world could be. She took another bite of her stew. 

But she damned sure could cook. 

 She watched Islinn as the girl took a seat by the fire and took a quick furtive bite of food.   Alora concentrated on eating and hoped Islinn would relax and stop guarding her food like a dog with a bone.  Alora scraped her bowl clean and got up for seconds. 

“Why do they call you The Twiceborn?”

The soft question would have been one Alora, under any other circumstances, would have ignored but the heat of the day was starting to meld into the coolness of night and the escape from the stolid heat and the good food buoyed her mood and encouraged her to talk.  She dished up more stew then glanced at Islinn.

“More?”

“No…thank you.”

 Islinn had barely eaten her first bowl.  Alora sat back down and glanced at Islinn.