Dragon: A Histories of Purga Novel

Chapter Eight

"So, you just couldn't stay away, huh?" Rone said. It had been five days since he first woke up in the hut and the first day he was allowed to spend time outside of it.

"My dad told me to show you around," Keiara lied. It was true that she was to be the one to watch over him (a job she had to beg Tarvo to give her) and to teach him about her people, but she neglected to tell him that she genuinely liked being around him. She enjoyed his company and his humor. "How is your leg?"

He looked down at it. The wool pants he wore had been pinned so the empty pant leg didn't drag on the ground but he could still feel his stump throbbing. There were phantom tingles and sensation in the nonexistent foot that was uncomfortable most of the time and downright painful at others. But it seemed to be healing all right. Heari used a special salve that sped up the healing process nicely. The thing he hated the most, however, were the crutches he had to use. The wood bit into his armpits and started hurting pretty bad after a couple of minutes.

"It's not so bad. Heari says the sutures can come out tomorrow," he told her.

"I'm glad to hear it," Keiara responded, cheerfully.

They walked side by side for a moment in silence. She watched Rone take in the scenery, his eyes nearly lost with utter amazement. She enjoyed seeing that wonder in his gorgeous blue eyes.

"What's the name of your city again?"

"Vitari. This is the largest of our city-tribes and inhabits most of the western side of the forest. The eastern half, across the Ursa River, holds Ledun, Yowil, Undari and Cantu. It is also where the plantations and Herdlands are."

"I see. Are they as beautiful as Vitari?"

"Yes. Just on a smaller scale," she responded with a charming smile.

They walked around the trees and buildings on the forest floor. Most of the huts there were where the artisans of Vitari set up shop. A little past those were the merchant huts that bordered the western side of the city-tribe.

Keiara said hello to Doran as she came out of her hut. She waved hesitantly and when she saw Rone with her, she hurried back inside. Keiara was about to apologize for the behavior, but Rone didn't seem to notice.

Doran was one of the master clothiers. She spun wool into thread that she then made into clothes for a lot of people in Vitari. She was actually quite gifted and was a great friend of her mom. They passed Hert, the metalsmith. He created all the weaponry the warriors used. Then Oylan, one of the bakers. There was Lillian who weaved baskets and Irvak's hut, where the plantation's farmers took their goods to be bartered. And on and on it went. There were hundreds of these huts, some big and grand and others smaller and less impressive. Each one, however, was vital to everyone's survival. Each one contributed. She explained all of this to Rone and watched with joy as he took in everything. He just couldn't seem to get enough information and she loved the way he always craved more.

"This is so fascinating," he responded at one point. "This is the first time in anyone's memory or anyone's history that a Rook has been allowed access to a Terraquois city. This is a phenomenal opportunity."

"Yes, it is," she replied, smiling. "My dad and I believed it was too good an opportunity to pass up."

"Opportunity?" he asked her.

"For you to learn about us. So that you can teach your people that we are not the monsters they think us to be."

"Oh," he replied, crestfallen. In all actually, he let the idea of living out the rest of his life in this beautiful place fill him. He loved the idea of the freedom living here would give him. No more tortuously boring parties or functions. No more having to act like something he wasn't. No more trying to please his father. All of the pressure of his old life just gone. "When will I have to leave?"