Celestial Roots

Chapter 13: The weather is turning

- Yes, Araïg killed it with one blow, you should have seen it...

Færn said nothing and simply nodded. Taghna was feeling her friend's grasp tightening with spasm, the jolts caused by waves of pain he was feeling. For a moment they remained in silence, lulled by the very slight whistle of a piece of incandescent bark burning in a bowl.

Taghna's thoughts were flowing. She wondered if Færn would heal before the stroïgil, why he didn't blame her, if he was in too much pain...

- It's... It's not your fault, you know, he said to her as if he was reading her mind.

This little sentence, blown between two breaths, broke Taghna's heart. She burst into tears.

- I'm so sorry, Færn. I didn't want it to happen, no, I didn't want it to happen. And you're hurt instead of me. Why? Why? Why did you do that? I'm sorry... she repeated between two sniffs, big tears falling from her cheeks and beading on the fine fur that covered the injured child.

She was draining her sorrow, devastated by her friend's fate. She couldn't even say thank you, the words didn't come out. Only the pain gushed out like an unstoppable torrent, tearing everything down in its path and making its own way.

She felt hands enveloping her.

- Taghna, come here, my little one. Let Færn rest. We're taking care of him, don't worry.

It was Dannaï. She guided Taghna's body like an empty shell. Despite the knotty hands of the oldest of the deans, her gestures were full of sweetness. Taghna looked at Færn who had fallen into a restless sleep. When they emerged, Tagha asked:

- Why did it happen like that?

- There's no one to blame. Lorgá is right and the balance has not been broken.

- I don't understand. Færn is wounded. What will he do if he can't participate in the stroïgil? Why is that fair?

- No one can predict how the stroïgil will turn out. We have to rely on Lorgá.

When Taghna heard the same words over and over again, she wanted to give in to anger. All the adults were saying was Lorgá this and Lorgá that. Weren't they supposed to know everything? She wanted to insist on getting more information from the old dean, but she felt she didn't even have the strength to fight.

She wiped her face, nodded several times and walked away, tired, lost and anxious. The village was quiet, almost empty. Not having the heart to train, Taghna was walking around. If Maoïr had been there, he could have made decoctions to help Færn, but the master was not found.

Séacas was heading towards one of the houses, his arms loaded with pieces of wood. His sight horrified Taghna and she hurried to leave the clearing. It didn't take her long to find her classmates. They too seemed to wander about without a precise purpose, afraid to distance themselves from each other. Very quickly, the discussion turned around their wounded friend.

- So, do you know how bad it is? asked Stær.

- I don't know about that. He's in pain. He can't move yet. The séalyar are taking care of him.

- But do you think he'll be better for the stroïgil?

- Yes, I hope so. I don't know...

Taghna started crying softly again. Strangely, it was Asgeül who came to her. They had put aside their resentment and competitive spirit, at least temporarily. Her brataïr took the opportunity to broaden the discussion:

- We don't even know what we'll be asked to do, she said in a calm voice.

- I still think we're going to have to prove our courage in the hunt, Déan said.