L
Lady Alainn
Guest
Original poster
"Bounty hunters?" she breathed in sharply. Though she was still willing to trust Malachi not to murder her in her sleep, the thought that he had attracted the attention of bounty hunters unsettled her. According to what she gathered from Rasha, bounties were only placed on the most nefarious of characters. The dangerous individual who needed a "professional" to capture them and bring them to justice. She shuddered, hoping it was Malachi's race alone that subjected him to the attention of not one, but multiple bounty hunters. The tiny voice inside whispered she was a fool if she really believed that. Whatever she was-- lonely, powerful, vulnerable, majestic-- the maiden was not a fool.
The last of the roots and vegetables she'd been slicing fell under her knife and with one swift motion, she lifted the cutting board out of the counter and slid the back of her knife across it to send the chopped pieces plunging into the little pot hanging above the fire. Malachi began speaking again, his words like little whispers crawling over her skin and sending tingles down her spine. One look down at her arms confirmed that the hairs were standing on end. Closing her eyes for a moment, she willed her heartbeat to slow and her breath to settle. Fear sought to enter into her thoughts again, but she quickly shut the door on it. "He is my guest," she whispered reassuringly.
A sudden scuffle of noise on her porch sent adrenaline pulsing through her veins as she about jumped out of her skin. The Druid held her knife firmly in one hand, returned the board into its slot on the counter with her other, and silently crept to the nearest window. What she found had her chuckling in relief. Wryn had found Lyle. The six-toed, duck-billed sloth was just rolling onto his paws again from crashing onto her deck. Wryn was furiously fluttering about the creature's head, pecking his ear and chirping something about the clumsiness of the large sloth. Wiping the few droplets of perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand, the maiden returned her knife to her belt and narrated the scene for Malachi. The interruption was a welcome one. She wanted something, anything, to take her mind off of Malachi, the bounty hunters, and the way he spoke about the Darkness.
"Lyle must have gained a few pounds since his last visit," she mused in bemusement. "The Oak's branches don't hold him as well as they used to. I'm sure you can hear the scolding Wryn is giving him. He's a good creature, though. A truer heart you'll never find. Ah, there he goes with the water bucket. Hopefully he'll return by the time we've finished our meal."
After seeing Lyle off, Wryn flew back into the cottage and settled on her former perch, her beady little eyes never leaving Malachi for a moment.
The last of the roots and vegetables she'd been slicing fell under her knife and with one swift motion, she lifted the cutting board out of the counter and slid the back of her knife across it to send the chopped pieces plunging into the little pot hanging above the fire. Malachi began speaking again, his words like little whispers crawling over her skin and sending tingles down her spine. One look down at her arms confirmed that the hairs were standing on end. Closing her eyes for a moment, she willed her heartbeat to slow and her breath to settle. Fear sought to enter into her thoughts again, but she quickly shut the door on it. "He is my guest," she whispered reassuringly.
A sudden scuffle of noise on her porch sent adrenaline pulsing through her veins as she about jumped out of her skin. The Druid held her knife firmly in one hand, returned the board into its slot on the counter with her other, and silently crept to the nearest window. What she found had her chuckling in relief. Wryn had found Lyle. The six-toed, duck-billed sloth was just rolling onto his paws again from crashing onto her deck. Wryn was furiously fluttering about the creature's head, pecking his ear and chirping something about the clumsiness of the large sloth. Wiping the few droplets of perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand, the maiden returned her knife to her belt and narrated the scene for Malachi. The interruption was a welcome one. She wanted something, anything, to take her mind off of Malachi, the bounty hunters, and the way he spoke about the Darkness.
"Lyle must have gained a few pounds since his last visit," she mused in bemusement. "The Oak's branches don't hold him as well as they used to. I'm sure you can hear the scolding Wryn is giving him. He's a good creature, though. A truer heart you'll never find. Ah, there he goes with the water bucket. Hopefully he'll return by the time we've finished our meal."
After seeing Lyle off, Wryn flew back into the cottage and settled on her former perch, her beady little eyes never leaving Malachi for a moment.