The Weaver's Source

Part Four: Chapter 42

"What is it?" I asked, trying to cover up my embarrassment.

"Was leaving your home not difficult?" He asked bluntly, curiosity burning.

I blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You're young. You'll have family still alive; friends. Was there nothing there to keep you from rushing after me?"

I swallowed thickly. "My parents and Gabi are dead, but Otto, David and my aunt all understood. They were prepared I was going to leave them one day." I explained. "But there was no one in that town who'd miss me much other than them."

"I could tell." Grigore growled a little darkly, his fingers flexing irritably, before he stilled. He watched me with a hooded gaze, his magic stirring softly as he thought. "So, no husband. No man you wanted to remain for."

Abruptly my cheeks were on fire and I shifted my attention to the crackling flames.

"No." I babbled, embarrassed. "Men avoid me. They see me as some kind of misfortune or something that would bring them death. And, in turn, I've little interest in men who look at me like I'm about to kill them." I glanced up at him as he ran his thumb along his jaw thoughtfully. "Don't you have someone you've left behind?"

Grigore barked a sharp laugh. "Lyra, I'm a Weaver. I'm on the road and do a job that could kill me any day. No woman would be content wedding me as I'd provide them with nothing but loneliness and fear I'd never return home, and that's ignoring my scars and immortality." His gaze became fixed on me, roaming over me a little too attentively as his magic began to shift, whispering over my skin. "You though, you're better off staying put somewhere safe and you'd have no trouble finding a husband if you looked for men who weren't so ignorant about magic."

I tried to ignore why he thought I'd have no trouble finding a husband and instead focused on his implication that I should leave him, clinging to it as my face burned.

"I stay with you, Grigore."

His gaze grew dark. "You've no useful skills."

"I can build those. No doubt you started with little knowledge on how to wield Ursus or how to weave a spell." His jaw tightened, indicating I was winning the argument. "I'd like to hunt."

His magic was abruptly growling, curling about me almost protectively as he flexed his fingers.

"No hunting, Lyra. I told you once before, you're not going near monsters."

"I didn't mean monsters, Grigore. You're right. I'd only get eaten." I said softly, bitter at my lack of preparation for the day he'd find me. "But I can hunt for meat. Deer, goats, rabbits; I can hunt those. I can track them, learn how to stay quiet, learn how to aim well and shoot."

Grigore was quiet, watching me intently, assessing me as he he thought, weighing my argument with odd care, before gradually he rubbed his mouth hard with an irritable motion.

"Fine. Hunt." He said sharply and his wide shoulders sagged with defeat. "I'll teach you."

Instantly my face was glowing, my eyes shifting to a yellow gold at how little he argued with me over it and was even willing to help me.

"Truly?"

"I'm not the best with a bow, too used to getting into close quarters, but I can teach you something." Grigore said stiffly as his gaze became fixed on me. "But stay close. Even bears or wolves could slay you."

"Agreed." I breathed in relief and surprise, gazing at him with happiness. For a moment, it felt like I had bridged a gap between us, that our relationship was finally building.