Camp was set up near a stream, not too far away from both where the bear attacked and the auroch's hunt. The corpses were butchered and the dead villagers carried and deposited to someplace close but not close enough to contaminate any of us, hopefully. It was cold, and that should help keep both the meat and the bodies fresh. There was relatively little actual meat on on the bear's corpse, but the auroch would require each person to carry at least fifty pounds of meat and fat in order to bring it back to the village. For now we would eat a portion of it in celebration of a succesful hunt, and in memory of those who've lost their lives participating in it.
It was not all that succesful of a hunt. A man dying is not a good hunt, but it's not entirely unexpected. Injuries and broken bones were much more common. Much worse was a bear attack, in the middle of winter especially. My master says the bear was likely woken up from its hibernation, and had stayed active throughout the winter. But there isn't enough food in this cold landscape for a bear to succesfully survive in, so he was starving and its only option was to hunt. Tenor provided the perfect opportunity, a tired child separated from the group. He had likely fallen and was left behind without anyone noticing. Luck wasn't on his side, but neither was it on the bear's.
Large slabs of meat was cooked and salted ontop of rocks, no herbs or vegetables prepared for a meal that was purely designed to celebrate the succesful hunt. I had my own share, instead of the bull's flesh I was given a chunk of the bear's lean muscle. It was tough and chewy, almost bad in taste but the salt helped it along. My master had forced me to strip and wash myself in the stream before eating, and now she was tending to the wounds as I took bites out of the bear's meat.
"The worse you've got is a torn up forearm, for most it would take two or three months to heal even with my aid. But since we're talking about you, Attie, I fully expect it to be functional within a month," the Herbalist decided to pick up a conversation. We were close by to where the chief himself was sitting, meaning the bulk of everyone was either surrounding us or nearby. Ronan had decided to make me into a central piece of the celebration in honor of my bravery in fighting against a bear. He didn't mention the fact that I failed in the goal of saving Éamonn's little brother.
It wasn't like we've decided to forget the lives that were lost, but there's a time for mourning and a time for celebration. The mourning should happen with the families of those we've lost. It turned out the man who was gouged and stomped on by the bull was the blond haired one who had been working on starting the fire yesterday.
"What makes you say that, Dorcha?" Chief Ronan picked up on the herbalist's words and decides to interject himself into the conversation. Or something that only resembled an opener for a conversation. The men around Ronan quieted down to listen to my master's words, possible tips on healing faster from a herbalist aren't to be ignored.
"Attie has the sight, as you know. Meaning he can see all four elements, the air, fire, earth, and water, and to some extent can manipulate them to his liking. All those with the sight can do this, some better than others, and some better than others at specific tasks," master picks up a lecturing tone as she rubs sorrel leaves on some of my bruises. Looks like most of the cuts were as treated as she would like them to be, she had sewn together my cuts with a bone needle and thread. A common practice. "The task Attie is particularly good at is moving the elements through his body. Where my daughter and I can move the elements external to us very well, Attie is absolutely terrible at it."
I hope I'm not blushing. I take another bite out of the chunk of meat, which is skewered on a stick.
"All of it boils down to Attie being particularly good at healing himself, and people like Brenna and me more suited for general spellcraft." The herbalist's sorrel leaf cracks and falls apart in her hands. The life force she drew from the fire, rather than the sun as it was dark, had been spent and along with it the leaf. "That's all. Both for you, Attie, as you've got no more bruises, and my explanation."
"Not a very useful explanation for us mundanes, Dorcha." Another man spoke out, biting off a chunk of meat from his own skewer.
My master smiles and heads over to the fire where her skewer of bear meat was being grilled. She flipped it over and inspected both sides, seeing that it was crispy enough and assuming cooked enough, she takes it out and sits back next to me. "Those gifted with sight should more or less know this from interacting with others similarly gifted. I have found no way to bestow the sight, and if my words have no benefit then pray to the spirits responsible for granting the gift to touch your eyes as well."
"Do you really not know how the sight is given?" Aiden's voice came in this time.
"Most are never blessed with it, some are born with it like Attie probably was, some one day wake up seeing new colors and feeling new sensations. Others awaken after traumatic incidents." Master took a bite out of her meat and chewed, watching Aiden intently for any response. She moved a wind element into the shape of a circle next to her head, which I could see.
"I see," Aiden replies, rousing a lift of an eyebrow by master. "What is it like to see? Can you see the soul of the departed? Can you see into the souls of men, herbalist?"
Master gave a sad smile and let go of the white circle, letting it freely disperse into the atmosphere once again. I couldn't do a circle of such precision and finesse, at all. I really do suck. Was she trying to test Aiden's sight? "No, I can't see souls. I've heard stories of magicians from far off lands who could, magicians who could cast death granting spells and some who can cure deep cuts within hours. Perhaps one of the could see souls, but I can't. Brenna sometimes tells me she can see spirits within the forest, some even giving her advice on how to advance in her craft, but I see none of that."
The men have all quieted down and listened to the words of the herbalist. Hearing about the sight, and what world lays beyond ordinary vision is rare and worth listening to. Even the rowdiest of men would calm their spirits and open their ears to the words of those who can see beyond, especially those who have lived their lives towards the perfection of the craft.
"Is it safe to listen to the spirits" Aiden continued. Truthfully my master is restrictive over how much information and what kind she gives, even if the sight is considered holy it is not to be recklessly talked about. For whatever reason, she was a bit more open about her visions and what she knows and sees today.
"Not always, no. But my own master had been taught by natural spirits, and I have heard this is common for many traditions. The way of magic is a dangerous one, though, and I've heard tales of men betraying fellow men over false whispers of evil told to them by spirits. I don't speak much about magic to those who aren't my apprentices for this very reason, and I trust my daughter to not be so foolish as to fall within the delusions of an evil faery."
Aiden watched the herbalist carefully. Then to me, and then got up and over to a tree. I guess he's done with the questions. My master paid him no mind as she continued to take chomps out of the meat.
"What is it like to be able to see?" Another man brought up, slightly timid in tone. He probably wanted to hear more, or perhaps again, what being able to see is like.
"Seeing colors float by, and patterns within objects and winds. I had not been born with the sight, I had woken up one day and suddenly started to see and perhaps more importantly feel a vibrancy to the world around me. The sights and feelings in itself aren't special, it's the specifics and focusing on things that really show me what kind of gift the sight is. On those I am not allowed to speak of." My master finished it off with that. She would most likely not speak anymore on the subject, leaving a cryptic message as the only answer she's willing to give. I do not know what it's like to be without the sight, but it truly wasn't all that special. I for one can't do much with it, other than heal myself faster.
The air of silence stood for a while. I had eaten all the meat off of my skewer and ready to enter the land of dreams, the silence would be a benefit rather than simply akward. Getting up I headed over towards the outskirts of the camp and found a spot next to sleep on. The snow would most likely melt underneath me, but unlike most of the men around me I had no fur to sleep ontop of. I had done it before last night and I could do it again, no problem.
Although, of course, my cloak and tunic, and some parts of my trouser were torn and bloody. I had not washed any of those in fear of freezing to death wearing it, as it was still cold. I'll make do. The feeling of dried blood against skin was agitating, though.
This was my train of thought until I noticed my master was following me, her fur blankets in each hand, the skewer of bear meat still between her teeth. Aiden and I had given her permission to share in the bear meat, as it was technically both of our kills and no one elses, as the herbalist persisted in eating of the meat. She throws me a blanket, and with the now free hand she removes the skewer from her mouth.
"Sleep on that." she told me. Setting down her own fur blanket nearby to me, she sits down and finishes the skewer. Throwing the stick off somewhere deeper into the forest, she lays down and wraps herself up inside the blanket. I stood dumbly, watching her quickly try to sleep.
"Well?"
Laying down the fur blanket, I sat down and evaluated the situation. I could do the same motions my master did with hers, wrap myself up and then go to sleep. I would imagine it would be very warm. Deciding to take off my cloak and tunic and setting it aside beside me, so that I didn't have to leave dried flakes of my own blood on her fur blanket, I wrapped myself up and looked over to her. She had her eyes pointed at the sky, her dark skin being seen in glimmers of fire light. Her arms were tucked inside the blanket, holding at the edge of it, and her head still within the range of it. Her hair was braided, not in a bun but a lace, as was proper for a woman of age. Or rather, a married one. Having hair unbraided meant one was unmarried, and although the herbalist wasn't married she wasn't looking for a husband. So she tied her hair, which regardless of marital status signified one was taken.
Turning away I closed my eyes and prepared for sleep to take me.
"If you were wondering why I didn't tell you about Tenor's death, I didn't want to cause unnecessary concern while you were in an unknown state of injury. And if you were wondering why I still prepared and treated the wounds of Tenor, who I'm certain you guessed was already dead after the bear bit him in the neck, attempting at the impossible soothes the heart of those who'll hurt most from his loss. I did everything I could, and no blame could be put on me for his death. His end was destined by the cruel hands of fate. In the same vein, you did everything you could've done in saving him. If you hadn't sensed or heard the boy in distress the bear would've gotten away with killing and devouring him. A bear that knows the taste of human flesh is too dangerous to let live, it was good at you and Aiden killed him while he was so weak.
"I heard what Éamonn did to you. Of course, I treated your face and healed the bruises of his punches. He was wrong in his rash judgement and I will bring up what he did to the Chief. I heard Aiden's part of the story, and what Éamonn said about Phelan's smearing of your name. Éamonn may not get any serious punishment, as you are not seriously wounded by his punches, but Phelan will learn to consider his words. You did nothing wrong.
"And if you were wondering why I humored Aiden's curiosity over the sight, and why I tested his vision, your own sight may not be able to catch the subtlety of the fluctuations of others. His had started to make the changes I've seen in my own daughter, when two years back she had been gifted the sight as I had before. He will likely start being able to see as well. He, at fourteen, is too old to be my apprentice, but I will teach him the basics of how to control himself. If he is like you, then I would like for you to teach him how to utilize the healing you are so gifted at.
"Good night, Attie." Shifting herself to her side, the herbalist postioned her face away from me and towards the fire. She would probably stay awake for longer, for what reason I don't know.
Turning my own head away I considered her sudden barrage of words. Honestly, most of today didn't feel all that real. Almost like a dream, I ran and fought against a monster that left just as quickly as he came. My injuries told me it was real, and the pain in my forearm told me it was real, but I can't really believe anyone had been lost today. I closed my eyes and slept, just as I had slept the night before, and just like I had slept any other night.
---
The journey back was strenuous, given that each man was carrying roughly fifty pounds of meat each. At least the men who didn't have their hands full carrying the bodies of the dead villagers. Aiden and I being no exception, although I was made to carry half of the weight, and Aiden the full weight. The chief carried enough for two men, and the herbalist carried roughly the same amount as the rest. Which she managed to do respectably well. Although she was one of the heaviest panters within the group. All the meat of the auroch, and his hide and skull were being carried back. As for the bear, he was skinned, his fur being brought, but very little of his meat was being carried. I was the only one carrying his meat, actually. He was too lean to provide much meat to begin with, although it was a pity to let his body remain mostly unused.
It was getting warmer again. Snow was starting to melt in areas directly under the sun, but within the forest the snow was still frozen. We followed the trail we've left behind yesterday, all in all it should take more than a day to make it back home. The journey was monotonous, even less conversation would float through the air as the men were too focused on walking and breathing than saying anything.
A day passed by like this, and a night. It was in the final day, the third day, that we arrived again at the village. Walking through dirt pathways into Ronan's roundhouse. No one disturbed us as we made our way directly there, first to deposit all the goods and materials. It wasn't until then that we were allowed to meet our family, which many trailed along behind, mostly housewives and children, in anticipation of reunion.
People of many vibrant colors stood around the roundhouse. My father could be seen among the crowd, wading through, trying to catch a glimpse of me. The meat was being deposited into a cellar, probably unnecessary but it would be more work on our part if it became warm once again and the meat was left out in the sun to rot. Simply covering it with snow would've worked for a while, and we would be eating a large chunk of it today in celebration of a succesful hunt with the entire village, but better to play it safe.
The herbalist was next to me as I walked out of Ronan's dark and freezing cold cellar. The entrance was besides the roundhouse proper, something that would probably be more of a hassle to work with considering one would have to walk outside and into the cellar, and then back inside if something was required. Regardless, I would meet with my family again, and hopefuly I'll be able to convey my story. Most likely someone else will tell the actual story for me, as I couldn't speak.
The sun was out in the sky, his proud visage glaring down at us in burning swathes of blinding light. The wind was calm, and the atmosphere was tense as wives reunited with husbands, checking for injuries and happily hugging when they've confirmed none were around. The children played, taking the village wide meeting as a time to goof off with friends. I, on my part, was being pat down by my father, being checked and inspcted for all possible wounds, and waiting for his anxious fiddling around to pass. Mother next to my sister, Ita, and my brother, Kevin, pale in the face with an expression I didn't want to meet.
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To be fair I was a grotesque sight. My cloak was mostly tatered, certain areas entirely dyed with blood. The tunic underneath was much worse, not in terms of the fabric's integrity but in terms of the visual. Blood was much more apparent throughout, the spots of my injuries being outlined by both tearing and by the spreadout dried blots of red. My forearm was bandaged together, although only herbs were inside and no blood present, I looked like I had fought for my life. Which I had.
After confirming that if any injuries were present, like the stitched together wound on my chest or around my back, it had already been cared for, my dad hugs my tight.
"What happened? These aren't injuries from an auroch, did you fall down a cliff? Out of a tree? Did you defend yourself against outlaws?" speaking up my dad started questioning me, looking at me deeply into the eyes as if trying to read my mind.
"A bear." My master replied for me, reminding both my parents of her presence. "Attie fought off a bear, with the help of the Hunter's son, Aiden. Together they killed the bear, although Attie suffered the worst injuries of the pair."
"Why would there be a bear walking around in the middle of winter?" Mom's voice enters my ears, warbling in pitch, "why would Attie be the most hurt of all the men in the hunt, what were the men doing while my son was fighting a bear?"
"Attie was wrestling with a bear that was attacking Tenor, the brother of Éamonn, as Trnkr had been separated from the bulk of the men. He was the only one to noticed Tenor's shouting, and went on alone in order to save him."
"And did he?" Dad, a slight air of anticipation in his voice, asked.
"We had asked him what had happened, and from what we could get from the scene and yes or no questioning of Attie, the bear had bit Tenor's neck before Attie could do anything to help. By the time I got there Tenor had lost too much blood, and despite my medicine I couldn't save him."
"Why was there a bear walking around in the woods in the middle of winter and why was my boy fighting it?" Mom's voice was low, as she walked to me and grabbed me by the shoulder, pulling me to her into a hug that felt more defensive of me than affectionate.
"I don't have the answers for everything fate decides. Attie bravely fought against the beast, a bear that had been awoken from its sleep, and lived to tell the tale. He is not dead, he is not crippled. Rowena, there have been two deaths in this hunt, Attie wasn't among that number."
"Attie okay?" Kevin asked, looking up to his sister. She placed a hand on his head and rubbed his hair, not answering but continuing to listen in on the conversation. Mom had much more to say, but but she held her tongue and brought me along to wherever she wanted me to go. Most likely back home. Taking the kids, and leaving dad behind as he looked around, unsure if to follow his wife or to ask my master more questions.
I was dragged along by the hand by mom into our house. Finally reaching it while ignoring the looks of fellow villagers for my rugged and bloody appearance, mom brings me inside, takes me by my shoulders, and inspects my face.
"Are you in pain anywhere?" I shook my head.
"Take off all your clothes, but not your trousers." I nodded and did as she said. I couldn't move my right hand all that well, but movement was starting to come back to me, although the movement is somewhat painful. Unlacing my cloak I gave it to mom, who already had her hands around it before I had fully unlaced it. Inspecting the holes and tears, and ignoring the blood, mom was most likely calculating the amount of time it would take to patch all the clothes up, and whether we had the materials to do that with. Or if the cloak should even be kept, getting dried blood out of clothes was near impossible.
Doing the same with my tunic, mom set aside the clothes after a quick assessment of each and starting inspecting my wounds.
"Why did you try to wrestle a bear, Attie?" I shrugged.
"You remember what I told you about being reckless?" I nodded.
"And you still decided to fight a bear even with those words in mind?" I nodded. Mom looks me in the eye and breathes in a deep breath.
"You're lucky that bear already tore you up, and that you survived, because if I found out you were killed by a bear I would've brought you back from mag mell myself and beat you into the realms even beyond the dead." She hugged me, in contradiction of her words and sentiments, and held me for a while. "Were you scared?"
Was I scared? I didn't have much time to even consider it, my body moved by itself and my mind was too occupied on surviving. So gripped by the moment I forgot I had a knife to stab the bear with, I most likely wouldn't have needed Aiden's help if I used the knife and did it right. No, the bear didn't scare me, but the thought of having to meet mom and dad again and show them what happened to me did. And so did the moment I realized I had failed to protect Tenor.
I shook my head, mom feeilng the motion of my head shaking through her shoulder. She moves away from me and inspects me from head to toe. With a shake of her own head she lets out, "you act and look too much like your father. I'm going to have to sew new clothes for you. Did Ronan give you the bear's fur?" I nodded. Aiden, despite having given the finishing blow to the bear, decided I should be the one to have it rather than him.
"Really? Depending on things go we can barter that for some cloth. You'd catch too much attention walking around with bear skin covering your body, and we'd be able to acquire much more material than the bear itself would provide." I nodded. The fur of a bear would be highly prized by any wealthy family, I'm relatively certain Ronan would offer to grant me a new set of clothes and then some in exchange for the skin. A good deal, since a mere trophy wouldn't do me much good if the price was walking around looking like I had just survived a battle.
Mom looked me in the eye, and let out a long sigh. Shaking her head once again she says, "I don't remember raising such a stupid son. Go wash yourself in some stream, take soap. Freeze in the cold winter air as punishment, dad will lend you his cloak to wear for the coming festival."
Nodding, and seeing that I would not be getting my clothes back, I headed out after mom gave me a bar of soap to wash myself with, and I took a pot normally used for water along. My hair wasn't so long as to need combing, as I regularly cut it, so all I really needed was water, a pot, and soap. A stream of water wasn't strictly necessary. Noticing that I was heading out, Ita leaves Kevin behind and walks next to me. I guess mom wouldn't miss a helping hand with whatever task she wanted doing, hopefully.
Villagers would be preparing for the coming festivities around or in Ronan's home, as such the dirt pathways were even more deserted than they normally would be. No one stared, or greeted me as we went along. Not that they ever would greet me, although it has recently gotten better as I became the herbalist's apprentice, since my sister would with me I'd expect some greetings from at least some of the kids.
Keeping to herself for a while, looking at my threaded up wounds and forearm, which was still bandaged, Ita walked alongside me towards the nearby river. Although there was a good amount of snow around, which became packed and hard by the time we've came back to the village, it wasn't freezing and the river flowed fast enough to not freeze over. It would be dangerously cold but if I used the pot to store and carry the water out of the river. I wouldn't have to jump in.
"Did you really fight a bear?" I nodded. She didn't have to ask, but I'll prepare myself for a barrage of questions.
"Did you win?" I shook my head. I wouldn't really call what I did winning, more that I was lucky enough to buy enough time to get saved.
"Oh. Was the bear stinky?" I paused for a second, and then nodded. Why she would ask that instead of any other question related to a bear, like how strong it was, or whether it was strong to begin with, how big was it, how tall and heavy was it, how sharp it's teeth was, the questions can go on and on. But to little Ita, whether the bear stunk was more important than any of that. Perhaps she was simply smelling me.
"Was it scary?" I looked over to my sister and back onto the path. Second time I've been asked, the answer is still no. The bear didn't scare me. Memories of feeling over Tenor's body, and what I could've done to deal with the bear faster and more efficiently, repeated itself in my mind at times. But I'm not scared. I shook my head again. She hummed and continued along with her questions.
"Do those threads hurt? They look painful?" Seeming to ask two questions I choose the first to answer. I shook my head.
The questions continued along, asking whether or not I'd get cool looking scars or if she, or dad, could fight off a bear, more or less meaningless questions. Arriving at the river, Ita made it clear she wouldn't be helping me clean myself and made her way back home. Or off to play with the kids, whichever sounded more pleasing to her own ears.
The river made itself first known through a flatland of gravel, the forest giving way and allowing for the flow of the water to make it through her land. The river for the most part was deep, and in this time of year despite the water flowing it wasn't all that fierce. I would not want to swim in it both for the fact of me dying trying, not because it was too cold although it was that, but because I didn't know how to. And that although slow it still moved fast enough to drag me away despite a man's best efforts not to.
I took off my leather shoes, wool socks, and trouser and walked through the smooth gravel ground towards the river. Wearing wet shoes isn't enjoyable. Dragging my pots along through the river's surface, I collected water and moved back to a place I could more safely dump it over my head in. I wouldn't want to get so shocked by the cold water as to accidentally fall into the river, after all. Doing just that, I dragged the heavy contents of the pot over my head with shaky hands, almost painful considering I could barely move my right hand, and dumped the water over my head.
It was cold. Shivering, I set the pot down and picked up my soap, and started lathering my body.
Alone, cold, and shivering, all I focused on was washing my body of any dirt and grime I could. The thoughts of the past few days played within my head, the vision of the men hunting the bull and the bear mauling Tenor overlayed. It felt more like a dream, a bad one that simply went on forever, but now the reality of my situation had begun to set in. If someone else had listened to Tenor's call then perhaps he could've been saved, a man faster than me with a spear or javelin in hand. If I had threw my club instead of stubbornly charging on like a bull, perhaps he would not have bit Tenor in the neck. If I were stronger, I could've dealt with the bear faster, enough to deal with Tenor's wounds before they became too much for his body to bear.
If I had been smarter and used my knife instead of the club, the bear would've died and me enough time to tend to Tenor. I had seen the white light that emanated from his mouth, if it were master or even Brenna perhaps they could've known what to do with that light. In my heart I felt it to be his soul leaving his body, as I had not seen it before anywhere else. Within my heart I could feel the same light, fluctuating, coarse and rugged as the thoughts of today ran through my mind. The sight wasn't so grand as to be infallible, and master had warned both me and Brenna that some things are illusions of our spirit. Things we want to see but aren't really there. Perhaps that is all I wanted to see, in order to solidify that I had not done enough to help Tenor I wanted to see his soul leave his body.
Before I knew it, I was done lathering my body and it was time to again throw another pot of water over my own head. With slipper hands I did, helped by the fact of the pot having been drilled and knotted with a rope, I brought it over my head and let the piercing cold take over my mind once again. Shivering, and probably going to freeze to death if I stayed out here too long, I quickly put on my trousers, my socks although they were difficult to put on, and my shoes, and ran back home. I would probably be helping mom spin yarn for the rest of the day, and many days to come. I couldn't chop wood or chop down trees with a poorly functioning hand. Not well, at least.
I ran back home both to help warm up my body and to quickly be within the warm confines of it's walls. Aided by a fire, of course.
The day went on until the night started to threaten us with her darkness. At this time, in rebellion against her nightly tyranny, we had begun to head out towards again Ronan's roundhouse. Most likely food had been prepared, and mother had left in order to help in it's preparation, leaving me alone next to a fire, trying my best to move my fingers in order to spin the spindles and hold the fleece at the same time. Luckily I only had to hold the wool with my right hand, as I tried my best to learn how to properly move my left hand to spin the spindle fast enough to properly spin the yarn.
But I could sense that it was time to leave and head on over to where the rest of the village was. Setting aside the fleece and the spindle, and the wool that I had pathetically spun into inconsistently thick strings, I walked out again into the cold, bowl and spoon in hand, and to Ronan's own place.
The characteristic feeling of a large gathering permeated the air. There was a large fire, not rivaling a pyre but large enough to cook a large amount of meat and house an equally large clay pot on, showed itself on the side of the banquet. The hollering of men and laughing could be heard even at the distance I stood from, the base of the small hill. Most of the people were focusing on eating, some serving others and others serving themselves, and once their stomachs full would spend the nights drunkingly telling tales or for some talking business and what should be done to help improve the village.
I was without a shirt, not an uncommon sight. As I arrived some called out my name, very unusual but most likely in celebration over me helping kill a bear. I could spot Brenna with her mother, eating next to her family off close by. Not being in the center of anything is the preference of my master's, she could join and sit next to the Chief as she was a druid of her own, but she never liked the crowds. Says it nauseates her.
I faced the conundrum of trying to find my dad and earning a cloak through him, or simply getting myself bowls of some sort of food, whatever they are serving and made, and finding a group to eat with. Sometimes it's with my family, other times it's with the herbalist, in these kinds of occassions.
Festivals and social gatherings were never something I enjoyed either. Not wanting to be rude and interrupt master's time with her family, I found my mom and dad eating next to their own friends, Ita and Kevin within their own groups, and I not having really any group to join decided to eat alone.
Taking my bowl along to the large pot I noted the contents within. A large pot of porridge was made, large amounts of peeled vegetables danced around within. Reds, purples, greens, oranges and yellows could be seen inside, herbs of various kinds dotted around. Most likely it would be suitably salted to meet the occassion. As I had no plate, and only one really functioning hand, I served myself porridge.
Or planned to, until someone stepped in and took the public ladle from my hand. Turning to see who the culprit would be I saw the face of Brenna, not paying me any mind, and her gathering a serving of the porridge for me. Kind of her, considering I was trying to hold the ladle with my right hand and it was proving to be very difficult.
"Should've called someone to help. You'll just make yourself look like a fool if you spilled most of your food on the ground." Scolding, she poured the contents of the ladle into my bowl. I nodded, and headed away to some other area to eat by myself. Silently.
"Where are you going?"
To eat by myself?
"Why don't you eat with us if you're planning on eating alone? Or do you want to be alone?" I looked over to her. How she could read my mind so effortlessly I don't know, perhaps the flow of her conversation had lead to answering my question before I could even think it. Did I want to be alone? Not particularly. I wouldn't mind company, as long as there was no expectation of me speaking.
"Come eat with us if you want, then." With a nod she walked away, and I followed.
"I heard the story of what you did with the bear. Roughed you up bad didn't he, be thankful mother was wise enough to call for help before coming to you. If she were to have gotten hurt, going to your aid without the aid of someone else, you wouldn't live to regret it." My mom said something similar, but worse. Seeming not to pick up on my thoughts, she continued on, "Shouldn't take you long to recover so don't expect any time off. There are still a lot you can do even with only one arm fully working."
My master greeted my arrival, and little Doireann had gotten bigger since last spring. She no longer can comfortably sit on the knees of her mom, something her mother doesn't mind much but she does greatly. For the most part we ate in silence, most of us that is. Brenna would try to start up a conversation but given that I could only reply in gesture, something limited by the fact that I had to eat as well, and the herbalist not being all that talkative to begin with, her most common conversation partner ended up being her little sister. That was until she brought up the topic on mind reading, and how she can read me so well despite not being able to respond all that well.
"Look at their auras. People are constantly surrounded by the elements, both within and externally, and regardless of their intent they influence their surroundings. When they're angry, red will be most apparent. When sad, blues and dark earths. Content comes with yellows, and overly stir-crazy or lonely, whites. Each color has a shade and it's own subtlety, but this is in essence how you can read people.
"In the case of Attie, since he has such fine control over his own internal elements what he lets out is much more detailed. I've learned to pick up the changes to his aura and associate them with his moods or thoughts. That's all the trick is."
Huh. I never noticed. Damn, I can't even notice it even after she's mentioned it. I can't see much of a difference between other people's "auras," I can't see it at all. Her mother looked at her daughter intently, eyes widening by the second. Before blinking and returning to a neutral expression.
"Now that you mention it, people do have auras," the herbalist says while looking around. "I never associated them with moods or thoughts myself. But it's too faint to be all that reliable."
"Faint? It's vivid. I can see and describe each person's auras from here, even within crowds?" Brenna let out a confused voice.
The herbalist looks over to her daughter once again and says, "we'll take about this at home. For now, eat." And eat we did. By the time I had finished with the pottage, and had gotten bread and a slab of meat within the same bowl and finished it, it was squarely within the night. I was sleepy and made it for home before anyone else. Being told goodbye, Brenna having guessed my intentions beforehand, I went home and slept by myself.
I did not sleep well.