The Northerner's Call

Chapter 2

"I can wash myself," Ayla told them, grabbing her hair out of the woman's hand.

"Torr told us to bathe ya. We abide by him, not you, foreigner."

Ayla didn't know the customs here. It felt intrusive for three women she didn't know to wash her body and caress her skin. It had been so long since anyone had touched her softly, gently. Most were rough with her and it felt nearly maternal for these women to wash her.

She closed her eyes at some point, nearly crying as the youngest woman touched a soft fabric to her cheek.

"Ya look like my cousin," the youngest murmured. "She's from the south, like ya, but she's got green eyes instead of brown."

Ayla smiled softly, not knowing what to say to the girl. "Are you close?" She decided to ask.

"Nei," the girl smiled sadly. "Haven't seen her in years."

The eldest woman grabbed Ayla by the hands and hauled her standing. She poured a last bucket of cool water over Ayla's head, who shrieked, and told her to dress.

Ayla brushed the water from her face and searched for her dress, which was gone from the hook she left it on. She clutched the sheer cloth and searched frantically.

"Ayla?" Torr's voice boomed from the other side of the door.

"Do not come in here!" Ayla shouted, searching for something to cover her body with.

"I have clean clothes for ya," he sang wistfully, peeling the door open an inch.

"Torr!" Ayla screamed, ducking behind a wooden slate.

"I'm not looking, narrae," Torr sighed, walking into the bathhouse with his hand covering his eyes, the other outstretched with a set of clothes. Ayla's head poked out and watched him stand, waiting for her. "If ya want to go naked, that's fine with me. But ya'll be a bit cold."

Ayla snatched the clothes from his hand and ran behind the cover again. Torr had given her a set of blue dresses with cream and gold embroidering along the hems, one to be worn over the other. She placed them on herself quickly and stepped from behind the cover. Torr had been facing the other direction, but he turned when he heard her footsteps.

His mouth turned into a smirk as he raked her up and down with her eyes.

"Ya look decent now, narrae," he complimented.

"Decent," she scoffed.

"Yes," he smiled. "Decent."

"Why do you call me that?"

"What?" Torr knew what she meant but he wanted to hear her say it aloud.

"Narrae," she tried to pronounce, though she didn't get the accent right. "What does it mean?"

Torr smiled at her attempt. Her southern tongue would never allow her to pronounce the word correctly, but he loved the way it sounded coming from her mouth. "It's just a word, Ayla."

"A word you insist on calling me," she snapped, crossing her arms across her chest. "I want to know what it means."

"Ya may want a lot of things, narrae," Torr stepped closer, looking down at her with ferocity. "But no matter how much ya demand from me and want of me, I am the one who decides. And until I want ya to know what it means, ya will not know."

"That's it?" She asked, taken aback.

"That's it," Torr smiled cruelly, walking out of the bathhouse. Ayla followed after him quickly, grabbing at his arm. It hardly bothered him; he had felt breezes stronger than her grip.

            "You cannot continue to call me a name that I don't understand," Ayla told him.

            "And ya cannot continue to walk my lands and act like ya're above me, wee sprite." He had found her insolence amusing at first, it wasn't often that people were rude to him or denied his gifts, but now he was finding her attitude to be overwhelming. He wondered where the frightful girl from the forest had gone.

            "Then let me leave," Ayla demanded.

            "Ya're the one following me."

            She had not realized she was following him farther into his village until he spoke so. Immediately she turned around and began moving towards the woods where they had entered the village the night before.

            "And just like that, she's gone," Torr called to her, his laughter following her as she moved swiftly. She turned on her heel though kept moving north, smiling to Torr who stood in the middle of the pathway.

            "Farewell brute," she smirked, jogging away into the thick woods.

            Torr watched her leave until the last traces of her borrowed gown could be seen through the leaves. Lathan found Torr like this, watching Ayla run away.

            "Ya're just going to let her leave, brother?" Lathan asked, clasping his older brother on the shoulder.

            "She won't go far," Torr nodded with ease.

            "How can ya know?" Lathan asked, squinting.

            "Because the Northerners are moving towards us as we stand here, ready to ransom me with blood for taking their boats. Ayla is running into their greedy hands and with that blue gown on her frame they won't believe she is not one of our women. They will hold her hostage and they will bring her to me."

            Lathan let go of his brother's shoulder, a somber feeling crossing him.

            "I thought ya liked the sprite's company." Lathan didn't understand how the man could go from chasing the girl through the village like a boy to offering her to the Northerners.

            "I do," Torr spoke. "Which is why I need to show her she needs me."

            "Ya play a dangerous game, Torr," Lathan said softly, not wanting to anger his brother.

            "One I will win."