In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 44: It Begins

Dijaq, a simple common boy no longer, was growing.

The beginnings of muscle and brawn stared back at him from his mother's old looking-glass; they strained at his leggings and tunics, which fit uncomfortably now that he was near a teen-ager, but he could not bring himself to present them to Mother's lodge. Mother's lodge was where Ziuta lived, and he could not fathom even looking her in the eye; not anymore.

She was too good for him.

It was early morning, and light from each shining star poured in from the half-moon window, blessing everything within Dijaq's living space with a dull, goldenrod glow. With one hand, he reached for the looking-glass and held it away from him at a slight angle; was that more blonde that was coming in at the roots? 

Yes, he supposed it was; the vestiges of feathery white curls, he noted with satisfaction, were beginning to fade more and more, until only a small dusting remained in the small patches that covered his ears. His wide, child's eyes were beginning to broaden, and his once-thin lips were filling out wonderfully.

No longer did he struggle to lift the water pails at the community well. He had just been welcomed on his first hunt-- in which men taught older boys the specifics of animal trapping-- and netted his first fawn, which had provided a lovely feast both for his own small house-hold and the empty homes of old widows, for the small and weak were looked after with the same dutifulness as with small children.

He did not feel self-conscious around other boys. Every now and then, he would smile wistfully at the younger boys, who ran through the village with pretend-spears that they used to jab at invisible animals. Some of them still nursed at the breast-- Evening Folk nursed well into the fifth year, while women in DayBreak and Hidden Well tended to wean when first teeth erupted-- how simple things had been then, how carefree...how imaginative!

Before, it had seemed that there was not a care in the world; how all that had changed!

He did not wonder now why giggling girls peeked at him from behind hands as he passed them in front of their lodge doors, where they stood in shy groups and made huge demonstrations of how well they could dust bedding and shake out eating mats. A good many of them stared after him-- but he ignored them, and as a result, many still gave Ziuta scathing looks, although Ziuta had paid Dijaq no attention for weeks.

But Dijaq had not forgotten Ziuta. He looked when she did not know he was looking; he stared when she did not know that he stared. She, too, was growing up; the lovely cherry of her full red locks had taken on a smooth, auburn-like sheen, and the sparkle in her violet-and-green eyes flipped his heart entirely on end. Her figure was smooth, willowy: still not that of a woman-- but not quite childish anymore, either. When they passed in the courtyard, she acted as though she did not see him, and Dijaq did the same. And the break in their once-close relationship hurt him to the core. This was a girl he would have done anything for-- whom he'd once touched a dragon for.

His only solace in their new distance from each other was that Luka, too, pined after her. Ziuta treated him as though he were no more than a bolberry sapling to blow in the wind. The look in Luka's eyes filled Dijaq with a shameful sort of pleasure; Luka always got what he wanted, particularly where girls were concerned-- but with Ziuta, he was having to deal with an entirely new set of rules.

And so, Dijaq noticed, Luka threw himself into his wedding plans with Michek-- but his heart was not in it...and poor Michek, Dijaq feared, knew it.

But what was there he could do about it now? Things were as they were. He likely would spend the rest of his days caring for Father, who had begun to withdraw back into the tortoiseshell of dementia. Once his Father actually passed away, Dijaq would be alone; without a brother, without nieces, without nephews-- without children.