"Altira."
May opens her eyes. She lies on the grass beside the jutting stone. Above, orange clouds streak across freshly blue sky. Asher leans into her view. She shifts, stretching out muscles sore from lying unmoving all night on the ground.
"I found a copse of petalfruit trees nearby," Asher says. "Will you peel them while I make a fire?"
May yawns and nods. He hands her a pile of round, leafy fruit and begins shucking the leaves that surround the fruit, while he goes to a small pile of sticks he's made. She sniffs. "Do you smell smoke?"
Asher clicks his tongue as he strikes the flint. "I wish. This kindling won't take."
May smells the air again. The scent of smoke is there, light in its faintness, but heavy with the odor of strong wood and ashy flame. She casts her gaze to the grass around them and sees the wind, though faint, comes in small spurts from the north. The fire of other travelers, she assumes.
Asher finally gets the flames to take and soon has a small fire burning. "All right," he says. "Let me see the fruit."
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...
