He was Almost Absorbed by the System

Chapter Forty Seven - Growing From Dusk to Dawn

"It's okay," the other boy sounded drowsy, indicating their time this evening would be short. "I got out early. The twins started to walk so mum and Fern have their hands too full to worry about me."

"What about Corn?" Slate asked.

"I carved him another doll, so he didn't tattle on me." Willow yawned loudly, but continued his weaving. They were quiet for a few moments, but Willow began to yawn again so Slate reluctantly suggested that they called it a night. "'K," Willow agreed, obediently. He stood up, placed the flower crown upon his friends head with a satisfied expression before taking himself and his clothes to the heights and disappearing into the leafy canopy.

Slate touched the mess of flowers and leaves upon his head and felt the heat rise in his cheeks once more.

****

Finishing the daily chores; sweeping the stone floor, ensuring a healthy stock of firewood and fresh water was in the kitchen and cleaning the table after dinner, meant that Slate could have some free time, with permission from his grandpa. The old man was a wily one, he was smart enough to know what the boy was getting up to, but had long given up trying to stop him. His body was not as agile as the youngster's and he was no longer as strong as he used to be, but as long as the boy did not bring trouble to his doorstep, he was fine with this.

Unfortunately, trouble in the form of a ten year old girl had begun to find him. "That girl is waiting outside again," grandpa said, gruffly. Slate looked at him with a frown, which transformed into a pleading look.

"Can't you tell her that I am not here?" he begged. "Say you sent me to trade for something?"

The old man looked at his grandson. The boy had grown taller and sturdier over the last few years. He wore his long silver hair tied at the nape of his neck and his large black eyes often sported a distant, dreamy look that had caught the attention of the village girls. Those girls could only gaze from a far, however as the Chief's daughter had already expressed her interest in him. The old man lit up his pipe. "Young men should solve their own problems," Grandpa claimed. "Part of growing up."

Slate rolled his eyes ceiling-ward before opening the door to see the golden haired girl standing in the enclosed street, lit dimly by glowing balls of fungus, anxiously waiting for him. She smiled sweetly when she saw him. "Hi, Slate," she said. The boy sighed, but gave no response. At least she didn't make excuses about her presence. Closing the door behind him, he began to walk away from his grandpa's house and down the street. Running to catch up with him before matching his pace, she coyly glanced at him through her lashes. "Where are we going?"

"'We' aren't going anywhere," he told her, coldly. "I have stuff to do, so see you."

"I can help!" She suggested, not accepting the hint.

"No you can't," Slate replied. "I'm going to find some zebra jasper." Well he had planned to eventually, he had wanted Willow to make something for him, a game, but Willow was still practicing carving chalk and coal; carving harder rocks would be a challenge.

"Like what your necklace is made of?" The girl mentioned, innocently. Slate frowned and clutched the pendant beneath his tunic.

"How do you know of it?" He didn't share that he wore it, it's uniqueness could lead to it being coveted by others. Not that he thought Yang would allow itself to be stolen, but he disliked inviting trouble. It was enough that he could spend a couple of hours a day with his reincarnated sweetheart. He would never claim that he didn't long for more, but at the present time that was surely impossible.

The girl had the decency to blush, her earthy skin glowing rosy for a moment. She could not exactly say that she had caught a peek of him undressing at the male baths. Her father would surely lock her in her room should he find out.

"Amber!" a familiar male voice called.  The girl looked back down the street to see her brother and ground her teeth together in annoyance.  The older boy was now thirteen and had grown in height and breadth, his voice had begun to take on the rumbling deep tones of an adult.  With his warm copper hair and his chiselled, strong features, girls had long taken notice of and he had grown in popularity.  But he also took his role as her older brother seriously, protecting her from adults that might use her to gain favour with her father and of course, from boys. 

But Slate shouldn't count, she thought, irritably.  After all, he's the one I have chosen.

"Greetings, Balsalt," Slate said, politely.  The older boy returned the greeting.  "I'll be off now."  He quickly made his way out of the village before any excuse could be made to stop him.

"Where is he headed in such a hurry?" Balsalt asked his sister as he encouraged her to return to their house.

"Off to dig around in the rocks and dirt!" she sulked, arms across her small frame.

"Ah, well he is the son of a mining family," Balsalt said, offhandedly.  Amber looked suddenly horrified.  She couldn't wed someone of that occupation.  Her eyes glanced at the barracks and arena as they passed them.

"I think I should speak to daddy about that," she murmured to herself and she'd herself of the reluctance to return home.