The Eye of The Storm

Chapter 24

Aella lifted her head off of the pillow as the rest of the spinning world came into view. She rubbed her glazed eyes in confusion. All at once the previous day's events came rushing back to her. She was laying in Beatrix's tent. She hadn't realized it before because she had been so overwhelmed at the idea of never being able to see Thoren again.

But she could feel Beatrix's presence even though the woman was no where to be seen. As she lifted her gaze farther, she recognized the sage's humble abode, with it's violet pull-cushions, blanketed floor and many glass containers holding strange herbs. It was no secret that Beatrix often scavenged as they moved along the countryside. The curled and dried leaves were evidence of that. Most of the belongings the woman had acquired shortly after joining the encampment, and therefore, could not genuinely be called Beatrix's.

The dim pink light beaming through the material of the tent contrasted the violet theme of the dwelling, providing one with a sense of wonder yet apprehension. The feeling of apprehension was generally inflicted when one realized that the mystical experience of the tent could not be explained by natural means alone.

As her wits came to her once again, she began to reflect on the previous days happenings. In retrospect, she felt as though she had behaved in a manner that was inexcusable and unlike that of a woman of her age or social rank. She was known to indulge in her dramatic tendencies, but she had never once behaved in such a rebellious manner. Embarrassment began to creep slowly upon her as she realized how disrespectful she had been. Indeed, hours of restless sleep had allowed her to see her fault. There was still a chance her and Thoren would be able to meet in the nighttime, that is, if he had forgiven her. No doubt his father would find her shortcomings unforgivable. She felt a sense of dread overcome her at the thought of having to face him again. Her pride would not be able to bear such a blow.

The last time she had been in Beatrix's tent, the old sage had told her to return the mysterious scroll to whence she had found it. Yet not three days later, she felt its wooden backbone press against her side. She took the tips of her fingers and reached under her tunic, where it currently hid, allowing her palm to stroke the edge of the manuscript reassuringly. She sighed in relief. Against her better judgement, she had not returned the scroll to its rightful owner. Its mere presence was compelling. There was something in the scroll that Beatrix's abilities could not foresee, and that something was reason enough for her to keep it.

Beatrix entered the tent abruptly, muttering to herself and ignoring Aella laying on the cot in the corner. The old woman's movements were slight and soundless, like that of a panther. Aella, whose senses had not been attuned to the sound of footsteps, froze in place with surprise, her hand suspiciously under her tunic. She withdrew her hand slowly, just as the woman glanced her way.

"Tsk, tsk!" She chided. "Still asleep are we?"

Aella simply stared at her with a face that was still quite pale from the scare the woman had given her.

"Well, come now, enough with the blank looks. We must pack up, child." Beatrix fluffed the pillows beside her and began waving her off of the bed. She barely gave Aella time to remove herself off of the bed before she folded it up.

"Beatrix..." Her voice was dismal. The buoyant hope that had once accompanied it was gone.

When Beatrix did not respond, Aella reached out to take hold of her slim forearm, her fingers resting on the translucent aged skin. She could see the clear blue veins that branched into roads and feel the woman's pulse keeping steady underneath it. Beatrix didn't flinch at the gesture but paused, and stopped what she was doing. Her eyes clouded over with concern as she recognized the melancholy present in the young girl's expression.