Chapter 6
Here
Brewer’s Reputation: 3,411.
Dream Cutter Stone Shard Quest: 13,300/15,000 shards.
It seemed that the sea thrashed because the sun beat on it. The waves made a constant effort to escape into the shadow of the trees upon the coast. Water evaporated in the heat of the day. A haze, high as a house and long as the world, lay upon the sea. It also lay on the slope of the coast. Trees could not block it, and dew sparkled in the coolness of the undergrowth. Sea salt hung in the haze and in the corner of my eyes and on my tongue.
Abigail sat up. I waited; listened. At last she told me, “Barnacle-eyes has left. Thrush too it seems.”
“I haven’t seen him either.”
“And I’ve been thinking about myself. I should be leaving too.”
The sea splashed our feet. It beat the pilings. Our legs dangled in the breeze.
“Your quest has come to an end,” I said.
“Your woods—this wilderness…it’s been wonderful being here.”
“You must be missing your home. Your hills. From what you’ve told me, they’re beautiful too.”
“But I don’t have anything there,” she said.
“Your home. The goats you tell me about. The summer grasses. Your garden.”
“I shared those hills with the goats—the goats aren’t mine. My house and garden are just things. I also have my Gift Number One ethereal plane for a garden.”
“There’s also your quest path,” I said. “You must be eager to get back to it.”
“Going back south won’t change anything about my quest path.”
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“When will you be leaving?”
“That depends. Do you need help with anything?”
“I think I’ll always need help with something or other. But I survived on my own for a decade. I can continue like that.”
“I could continue to mentor you. You still haven’t brewed a golden chapter beer.”
“I don’t want to take you from your life, your quest path. There’s more exciting things for you out there than mentoring a silver rank Brewer.”
I folded my net and put it away. She chewed her thumbnail.
“My life could be here,” she said.
“There’s a whole lot of wilderness here. I could help you find a patch of woods; build a cabin.”
Our tunics rippled in a passing breeze. Her hair flung across her face.
She brushed her tendrils from her face and said, “Do you want me here?”
I could have said it was the heat that made my cheeks blush so damn hard, but that would be a lie.
“Because I want to be here,” she continued. “I want to brew with you.”
It wasn't the first time I’d heard her say those words. We’d been sitting around a fire the first time she opened up like that. The fire had tripped over itself and filled the sky with drifting embers. She’d put a hand to her heart that day. I could remember that moment like it was yesterday.
There were many moments with her I could remember like it was yesterday.
She arrived through a gap in the woods. Instead of armor, she wore compassion on her sleeves. She brought life to my camp. She filled the clearing with flowers. She moved the earth with her hands. She cared for every living plan with the gentleness of a sleepy breeze. I admired that about her because I wanted to care for things as gently as she did.
She arrived with an eagerness to explore the wilderness. We hiked my trails together. Because her curiosity was an unleashed animal, we often went off trail and lost ourselves in the woods. That’s where she wanted to be; that’s where I wanted to be too.
She foraged in the wilderness. Not because I did, nor to help my efforts in gathering resources. Her desire to forage came from within her. How many times did I wake up to find a basket filled with boletes outside my cabin door?—or chestnuts, berries, flowerheads, roots, leaves, and other nuts? How many times did I seek her out in the path of the woods to thank her, only to find that she’d been collecting oyster mushrooms? How many times did she help me collect razor clams and offer to cast my fishing net out? I too loved foraging.
Beer? She wasn’t so much concerned with her quest path career, as she was with brewing beer she liked. It had seemed quite the conundrum to her that we were perhaps not so different about that. Above all, she loved memory attribute beers. I too loved those, so much that I still had not had enough of brewing them.
She shared her golden chapter beer with me. That beer bared all her feelings for me. She liked me. And I liked her too.
…But for her to stay? She wouldn’t be staying for the favor. Not for the beer. Not even for the hikes, the wilderness, nor for the thrill of foraging! She wanted to stay here for another reason entirely.
She was gazing upon the sea. The waves were high; the surf shimmered. My heart leapt and my blood raced.
“I want you here,” I said.