The TwiceBorn

This Wild And Wondrous World

'But you've helped me find my way.  Through the wild and wonders of this world."--Sarah Jarosz

Alora’s hand had swollen up.  She grimaced as she took the reins with her good hand and attempted to lay the other one on her thigh as she rode but she couldn’t get comfortable.  She’d taken a bigger bite than usual with her overzealous cutting and the heat of the day wasn’t helping to cool it off any.  It throbbed and ached like she had angry bees trapped beneath the surface.  Loki pinned his ears back and tossed his head in irritation as she shifted about in the saddle for the umpteenth time.

They were nearing the end of the oppressive shade offered by the Cordon woods.  In another day or so they would be back out on the grasslands and nearing Lochedge.  And the Hynti.  And Yzebel and whatever trick it was she was attempting to pull off.  Something was definitely afoot, Alora had no doubt.  She’d had her suspicions but Blixen and his reaction had confirmed that something was being played out.  She just didn’t know what.

Then there was Islinn.  Riding into a desperate town surrounded with hynti and bale fires was not something she wanted the girl to experience and that thought set up a throb and ache big enough to rival her reddened hand.  Her head and heart were simply too full of Islinn to entertain how she needed to approach Lochedge and Yzebel.

“Your lineage becomes transparent.  Weakened by your longing.  And Yzebel will butcher you.”

The little goblin’s smug prophecy had re-occurred to her more than once. Not kill.  But butcher.  As if killing weren’t…enough. But then again, Blixen always did have a flair for the dramatic.  Still though, she didn’t like the trapped feeling she was beginning to have, brought on by her feelings for Islinn and what she didn’t know about Lochedge.

 She shifted in her saddle again and ignored Loki’s piercing squeal of protest and glanced back at Islinn as the girl rode along a few paces behind.  And she thought she was doing rather well with keeping her focus on Lochedge. Until Islinn stretched and reached up to move her blond hair off of her sweated neck.  The unconcerned lift of her hand, and the slight shift of her bare brown legs against the stag’s sides, combined together to rob Alora of all coherent thought.

The simplest gestures. Here was power again, all done up in a different way, disguised as simple movement yet with strength enough to knock the wind out of Alora and make her think that her legacy might be a poor substitute for love. Because, right now, Islinn was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

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Islinn caught the look Alora gave her and glanced away.   Her cheeks burned even hotter beneath the strength of the sun but it was a good burn.  A satisfied burn.

 But not a righteous one.

 She frowned.  She’d led her life on her knees praying and bearing and while she’d felt all of it was right and good…she’d never felt whole.  Until last night.   And no, she didn’t understand.  Just something else she had no grasp of. But the more she thought about it, the more she thought her not knowing of so many things  was what made her faith so pure.

She simply believed.  Good and evil.  But now the lines were blurred.  And she never thought that what was evil would come to her in tears and gentleness. Arrogant and alone, yet begging to be accepted if not in word then by touch. 

Brede’s words were carved in stone.  She’d been taught they were not to be questioned, only followed.   

But…