Red's Wolves

Chapter Fourteen

Alera was sore and tired by the time she returned to their hut, but there was still no sign of Jere, and she wasn't going to bother Palo with her questions. She knew he was fine. She just didn't like this strange distance she felt between them now.

Instead, she focused on the state of the hut she had only left that morning. Upon her return, it had been fully furnished, just as Hevea said it would be. What she did not expect was the clothing left for her, especially one simple yet well made dress already spread out of their now-made mattress she had slept on the night before.

"It was your mother's."

She turned to see Hevea in the door and he bowed his head. "Apologies for intruding or assuming, but it seemed appropriate that it goes to you now. I no longer have a need to hold on to it."

"You kept it all this time?" She asked as she picked up and held it against her to test out the length.

"Often a father has dreams that his daughter will return to him one day. I kept it, hoping that day would come. And then I kept it for sentimental reasons. But now—"

"It's beautiful. Thank you." She didn't want to cause anyone any more grief for her mere existence.

Hevea nodded. "I would ask you to wear it tonight. If you do not mind."

"What's tonight?"

"Every evening we have a communal fire. A way for us to reconnect with the earth after a day of work. It would be my honor to have you as my guest."

For once, Alera was being invited to attend instead of asked to hide out of fear of what her presence may mean. She couldn't help but smile.

"It would be my pleasure."

Hevea nodded and seemed to relax, as if he was concerned she would have declined his invitation. "I shall leave you to get ready, then. And will see you shortly."

Alera nodded her own thanks as her grandfather excused himself from the hut, and her attention returned to the dress and getting ready for the evening's festivities.

The dress fit perfectly—far better than anything Brigette ever tried to tie her into. And she brushed her hair out of its braid and let it hang loose just as she heard the drums start to beat in the distance.

The pathway from the residential area towards the main center of the village where they had arrived the day before was alight with torchlight, making it easy for Alera to find her way to the group already assembling around the massive fire. She immediately saw Palo standing with Hevea and a few other fae she did not yet know, but in looking for Jere, there was no sign. Slight worry began to grow in her stomach, but if Palo was not concerned she forced herself to calm. They were safe here. The forest protected them before and would continue to protect them now.

So Alera allowed herself to relax as she wove through the gathered fae who were already chatting and eating and drinking and dancing. She received smiles and nods, but none of it contained the pomp and circumstance she had at home. And she was able to roam freely, without a maid at her heels telling her she was embarrassing herself and her kingdom just for existing.

She had found herself a delectable meat pie (just hunted that morning) and a glass of wine (fae wine was admittedly stronger than what she may have been used to, she was warned) and found herself a spot on a log not too close to the fire to start sweating, but still close enough to watch those around it.

She had just finished her meal and started tapping her foot to the beat of the drum line when she felt someone come up behind her.

"You actually look like a princess."

She smiled up at Jere. "And you smell like a horse."

His own laugh in response was enough to assure her that he was doing better, and she watched him as he took the seat on the log beside her.

"You have got to try some of this," she said, offering him her glass of wine, but he shook his head and declined.

"I finished mine already on the way over here," he admitted. "That stuff is strong."

"Did they not give you the warning?"

"No, they just tried to tell me where their hut was for later."

"What?" she hissed as she looked up and over to the table where there were the females handing out the wine to guests, and one of them was suspiciously looking over towards them.

Alera glared possessively and Jere pulled her pack to get her attention by wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Don't worry, princess. I'm still coming home with you tonight."

Her face flushed, and she nudged him in the rib. "You're drunk."

"I prefer slightly inebriated."

"Just don't vomit on my dress."

"I'll be sure to aim for your shoes."

She snorted out a laugh just as the drumbeats ceased and everyone started taking their seats. Before the fire stood Hevea and on either side of him were two female fae whose attention was not on the crowd but on the flames behind him.

Hevea's commanding voice boomed over the crowd, but in a language she did not understand. The tone was entrancing—even Jere seemed enthralled—and when the female fae began to control the flames with the waving of their hands, the gasp that escaped her was nothing short of amazement.

"He is telling the story of their origin," Palo said softly as he finally sat to join them on Jere's other side. "Of the fae of the air who flew in the sky, the water fae who swam, the earth fae who seemed to grow like the trees, and the fire fae who controlled them all."

"Because fire can fill the air we breathe with smoke, boil the water to nothing, char the ground," Alera whispered.

Palo nodded. "That is why there is the need for unity and balance. Just as the fae here love in the forest, so too are there fae of the air, of the water, and of the fire. To live in peace means peace for all, fae or otherwise."

"And where does healing fit into all of it?" Jere murmured softly.

Palo sighed. "Your mother's people were of the fae many generations ago. That was where her healing capabilities came from, passed on through the blood..."

"And into me," he said before his father could finish.

Alera tried not to pay attention to their conversation, but she was grateful for it. That Jere can finally have this and share it with her father. The memories, for better or worse, that they would have together moving forward. She only wished she could have had her father on her other side, watching the fireweavers create patterns in the flames with her while Helvea spoke of past battles and distant lands. Listen to him tell her tales of her own mother and what powers she once had.

But just like the flames of the communal fire, all hope she ever had in having a true relationship with her father went up in smoke on the day she was born.