They continue on like that for some time, eating mulberries as they walk. May tells Asher about the place of her home. The river Nintu is wide, she says, so that on its open waters one can only scarcely see the opposite shore. But she grew up among the trees, a forest interwoven with huli vines, and the river flowing through the roots. It was where the forest kissed the river, her mother said.
Asher listens, awestruck, and tells her of the land from which he came. Outside Malark, at least two weeks' journey to the south. His grandfather had been a carpenter, his grandmother a seamstress. His true home, he told her however, was the farm. He, like his parents, loved working the land. He loved going to the village, to play with the other boys and see the things from far away on the one or two days of the year a merchant came this far north.
Finally the gully flattens out and the river flows across the open plains. May holds back behind the last embankment while Asher crawls up to look around. He is at first surprised by how much time has passed. The sun is dipping toward the horizon in the west, and the clouds above are taking on an orange glow. He looks back the way they came, and judges they've traveled four or so leagues from the forest. To the southeast, he can just make out the smoke rising from the hearths in the village. It's near enough that they should be able to make it shortly after dark. After scanning the plains for signs of the men and finding none, he slides back down to May.
YOU ARE READING
The Unending Epic Written to Appease a Friend, Tell a Tale, an...
FantasyEach day, the story grows. The tale begins when two lives are suddenly and irrevocably twined together, and a boy from a lonely farm and a girl without a people find themselves each other's only friend. Little by little the fabric of their lives wea...
