❝Shae Burrower, failed author and city girl, from Lavender Lane, at your service.❞
⎯⎯⎯
The story contained within these pages is not about me.
You all know of whom I write. If not by word of mouth or by the speculation of the Chileez Times, then by...
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Three days later, Decimus was still missing, Lennon T. James and Chief To'an were at a stalemate, Lyong and I were friends and the bundle of flowers in my hand smelled sweeter than honey.
Lennon T. James was not here this morning. Every night after dinner, he left us at his cabin and slipped into the shadows. Some mornings he was back for breakfast. This day was not one of those.
It was well into the morning when the sunshine found all six of us arrayed on the porch of Lennon T. James' cabin.
We were tired of socialising with a translator, as it was ten times harder and the celebration was almost over. As it was, none of us had seen much of a celebration.
"Where do you think they're hiding all the alcohol?" asked Lyong, his fingers gently tugging my hair as he arranged them into a braid. He was gentle but particular and took his sweet time organizing my hair just so.
Mitch sat on the step below me, carving something into the wood by my feet with her knife. "I don't know. I could use some of it, though."
"Don't even think about it." Nattaniel shifted, the wood creaking beneath him as he leaned heavier on the railing.
Gino tossed an apple into the air, lying on the railing with one foot dangling off the side and the other propped against the wood--as if he didn't have a twitch aggravated by the uncomfortable balancing he had to do.
He was our voice of reason, as always. "If you think about it, they are very devoted to the Untameable. Holy Men and Women don't touch a drop of alcohol, unless for medicinal purposes."
"I have very dire medicinal reasons." Lyong loosened his grip slightly, rearranging strands before he continued his plaiting. "Also, there is no singing, no dancing, and I see very little people milling about. Where is everyone?"
"Probably in a tree somewhere," Mitch muttered beneath her breath, eliciting an amused huff from Gino and a smile from me.
"To be fair," I piped up after he tugged a bit too hard and I flinched. "I would be avoiding Lyong too, so..."
"Bloedskryefer!"
The voice cut through any further conversation.
Mitch flicked the knife to her more dominant hand. Gino sat up, reaching for his gun while still holding the bitten apple between his fingers. Nattaniel straightened. Lyong kept braiding my hair.
"Kita!" I called back, waving as the warrior woman came into sight. At my cheerful tone and excited smile, my fellow travellers relaxed -- but not quite as they had been.
Kita approached us with purposeful, long strides, the spear in her hand glinting in the sunlight. She did not wear her disguise; the mud had been washed from her face to showcase her clear umber-toned skin. Her hair had been tossed in a long ponytail.
