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“I wasn’t aware.”
He grinned, ducking into the lupic where I’d first been treated after being found by the river. I’d been moved the next day, still mostly incoherent and sick, to Solin’s.
The saplings holding the roof groaned under the weight of so many drying plants. Some shrivelled and crinkled with time and ready to be used, while others were fresh and green. Their fireplace was larger than most other lupics, with plenty of space for cauldrons carved from bison skulls to bubble and simmer with medicines. Bowls and jars littered the place, and shelves sagged with weights of folded skins and sinew. Cups holding bone needles and water bowls keeping animal tendons wet and flexible waited by the area where wounds were stitched and blood was staunched.
The scent of pungent herbs and astringent methods tickled my nose, quickening my heart with desire to know this world. To be proficient in this world. To be as good a healer as Olish. To be so attentive that he knew what caused sicknesses for certain clan members before even they did.
Way looked up from where she pounded a thick stick, rolling the dull end in a shallow bowl, crushing a small orange flower until it became a paste. Her almond eyes met mine with a smile. “Runa. Have you come to learn?”
“Actually, she’s come as a favour for me,” Olish muttered. “I thought you were treating Ulcan’s infection.”
Way laughed in her calm, soothing manner.
Just as the colours of air, sun, earth, and river danced in my gaze these days, the auras of mortals did too.
Olish carried a bronzy haze that gleamed with good intentions and selfless service. Solin burned yellow with the fire that never left him alone. Way hummed with a subtle pink light that filled me with relief and relaxation.
And Darro...
I stilled.
He was exactly like his shadows: a constant fog of darkness coating him from wild head to bare toe.
“Just making up his treatment now,” Way said with a final pound of her stick.
“Will you be much longer?” Olish asked, unsuccessfully hiding his frustration that we weren’t alone.
Way looked between us; her eyebrow quirked teasingly. “Why? Are you up to secretive things with our future Spirit Master?” She looked at me. “Do you need me to save you from Olish’s secretive intentions?” She leaned forward, winking. “Because I can. Just say the word, Runa, and I can slip something into his morning tea and give him all manner of upsets.”
A chuckle fell from me, granting a sudden bright spot in the sadness that seemed to cloud me these days. Regardless of my impending mating and the strain between Darro and I, I was immensely lucky to live with such incredible people. “I appreciate your offer, Way, but I’m okay. I can handle him.”
“Just command the fire to singe his hair if he bothers you.” Way grinned. “He’s rather fond of his yellow hair.”
Olish rolled his eyes. “Why Hyath puts up with you, I’ll never know.”
“It’s because I’m the best.”
“Debatable.”
I chuckled again as Way laughed and tucked glossy black hair behind her ears, leaving a smear of orange on her cheek from the crushed flower. “Fine, I know when I’m being asked to leave. Impolitely, I may add.” Using a flattened stick to scrape the paste into a smaller jar, she gathered up her medicine pouch and climbed to her feet.
She touched my shoulder on the way past. “Come find me if your moon blood returns soon. I’ve made a stronger brew of my usual tonic. Hopefully, it will ease you better.”
I tensed against the awful thought of reliving what I’d gone through last month. The pain hadn’t lasted that long, just a couple of days, but the ache between my legs and lower belly had made even Solin fear for my existence.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
Way squeezed my shoulder and left us, taking her pretty pink light and her sense of jovial calm with her.
Olish drifted toward the groaning shelves and ran his fingertips over certain bottles, stoppered with wooden plugs. Each one held an ash mark, depicting what waited inside. Finding the one he wanted, he plucked it from the shelf, palmed it, then turned to face me.
“Sit. Please.” Waving his arm at the strewn bison furs on the floor, he folded cross-legged onto one and waited until I copied him. Smoothing down the supple calfskin that Hyath had given me after I’d soiled my deerskin wrap, I no longer felt the spirit within. The dress fit better than my other, cut to form around my body, and didn’t gape around my chest when I bent forward.
I’d noticed more and more females adopting Hyath’s new clothing creations, leaving behind the easy-to-wear bison strips across their hips and breasts. Hyath had even started designing cloaks for winter, staying busy with requests from clan members preparing for the colder season.
