Search for the Extinct [Last of Elves book 2]

Twenty-Two: Ailill

Ailill

Understanding the girl’s questions was easy for him. He could read her eyes, so like the high priestess’, with ease, and he had quickly picked up on her hand signals. He knew that his sister found it difficult, and often left her with him, much to Aura’s delight.

On a mild day, with the weak sun shining, and snow soft on the ground, he took her outside, Hunaja gambolling along in front of them like the kitten she still was at heart. The girl held his hand tightly, looking around with wonder as he showed her the secrets of winter. From her reactions, he knew that she had never been shown a frozen spider web, or the stream under a thin layer of ice.

She looked at him, a question in her eyes.

“The legend?” he asked quietly. The snow swallowed his words, muffling them so that they didn’t carry. She nodded, and he drew her away from the stream. “What about it, little girl?”

She hit him, making him laugh. Hunaja came back, looking more like a moving snowdrift than a beastkin, and shook, spraying snow all over them.

He watched the girl, knowing that she spoke with much more than her eyes. She’d developed a language with her hands, her body. It only took someone with a careful eye to understand her.

Why did you tell the legend?

He picked her up, taking her deeper. She stared around, her eyes wide, but he knew that she was still waiting for an answer. When he entered the small glade, snow only dusting the ground, she gasped with delight, and he let her slide down.

“Sit down, Stjärna,” he said softly, settling down on a cleared stone himself. She stilled, staring at him. He smiled, and Hunaja pushed her head under his hand, wanting a pat. He obliged, watching the girl.

“I told you the legend for a reason, my dear,” he said quietly. She crossed the clearing to him, studying him closely. He let her, and when she reached out, took her hand. “So much of the history is lost, killed with the elves. I know you’ll cherish it, and keep it alive in your own special way. You have a voice, Stjärna. If you only listen, then you will find it.”

She met his eyes again, and he tugged her closer, letting her curl on his lap. She was shivering slightly, and he knew that they would soon have to return, where the warmth was. Hunaja curled at his feet, lying on them, and her purr vibrated through them both.

Is she yours?

He shook his head. “No. She seems to have chosen you, if you accept her.”

The girl stared at him, blinking in disbelief. But I’m not an elf.

He touched his nose to hers gently, and then pulled away. “It’s not whether you’re an elf or not, Stjärna. It’s whether you are worthy of someone to protect as they protect you.”

And … and Thunder?

“He will return when he is needed.” He studied her for a moment, and then knew what she wanted. “You want his elfin name?”

She nodded.

“I cannot tell you his name, little one. you would not understand it.”

She scowled, but seemed resigned.

Can you tell me what it means?

“Thunder. The humans got that much right.”

How do you know so much about the elves?

He tilted his head, debating telling her. He wasn’t sure how much she would be able to keep from her mother. However, she pointed to him, and he couldn’t stop his laughter.

“Yes, Stjärna. You’re a smart girl. You know the last elf was burned?”

She nodded, her eyes dropping to the scars on his arms. She stilled, and he knew that she understood.

My mother?

“She had no choice, Stjärna. I don’t blame her, and neither should you. She was protecting her people.”

She frowned. What does … She had no sign for what he was calling her.

“Stjärna?”

She nodded again, not taking her eyes off him.

“Star,” he said softly.

Why do you call me that?

He shrugged, and got to his feet, carrying her easily. “No reason in particular. Come, it’s cold. Hunaja.”

The beastkin surged to her feet, and led the way back to the cottage, where warmth and food was waiting for them.