“I could stay here an entire week and explore,” Jahrra murmured, her hands linked behind her head, her eyes tilted skyward. The stars were brilliant this high up in the mountains, like diamond dust scattered across an unfurled bolt of inky velvet.
“See any constellations you recognize?” Ellyesce asked.
Jahrra furrowed her brow, then let her eyes wander the sky, at least the parts of it that weren’t blotted out by the pine boughs above. Eventually, the bright sparks of light formed into familiar patterns.
She pointed to the northern section of the sky. “There, just on the horizon. Traagien, and Atrova, the dragon’s heart.”
Jahrra outlined the shape of a dragon in flight, her finger lingering on the glimmering pink star, the largest one in the constellation, at the center. She continued to point out a few more patterns, the Pine and Essyel, the Guardian, to the south and the Bloodrose and Noiramaebolis, the northern star, resting far above Traagien. Her study of the night sky brought back fresh memories of Hroombra, and her heart began to ache once more.
None of that now, Jahrra, she reminded herself. He would not want you to dissolve into sorrow every time you think of him.
“Those Astral cards have been a blessing after all,” Jaax mused quietly, with some humor. “It has been far too long since either of us have glanced at the stars.”
Jahrra had to agree with him on that account.
“Shall we sharpen those skills some more, then, over a game of Astral?” Ellyesce suggested.
Jahrra sat up in an instant, her memories forgotten for the time being. She was eager to improve her skills at this card game she’d quickly come to appreciate.
“Absolutely!” she exclaimed.
Even Jaax couldn’t complain as Ellyesce began to deal the cards out. Jahrra felt a little bad her guardian couldn’t really take part, but he informed her that watching the game unfold between the two of them, and knowing what cards each of them held, was entertainment enough. They played well into the night and by the time they settled down to sleep, Traagien had crested the dome of the sky and was beginning his descent into the west.
Jahrra rose early the next morning to find Jaax gone and Ellyesce, for once, fast asleep in his bedroll. She couldn’t tell what had woken her, but her head ached and she desperately needed to relieve herself. Grumbling against the cold, she snuck off to find a place shielded from the campsite but still within view of the horses. When she returned, she realized that she wasn’t as tired as she thought she was. Not wanting to wake Ellyesce, she quietly removed her coat from Phrym’s saddle bag and made her way to the lakeshore. The semequin, always curious as to what Jahrra was doing, pricked his ears forward and gave a soft nicker.
“Not now, Phrym. I’m just going down to the shore for a little while. I won’t be gone long.”
To her great relief, he made no more complaints.
The air was thick with mist and held a chill that seeped deep into her bones. No matter. Jahrra had her warm coat, the one Jaax had given her for this journey. She buttoned up the front and stuck her hands into the wool-lined pockets, her breath joining the grey fog around her. Her steps fell quietly on the dark earth, heavily padded with years upon years of pine needles. Once she was within a few dozen yards of the lake, however, the loamy soil gave way to gravel and water-smoothed stones. Her boots crunched noisily over the soggy pebbles, the sound seeming to echo throughout the small valley. Jahrra didn’t mind, and she didn’t think it would wake Ellyesce, though it might draw Jaax’s attention if he was nearby.
Spotting an ancient fallen pine, she turned on her heel and headed farther down the lakeshore. The bleached wood lay partly submerged beneath the lake, its great roots poking out in every direction like a sea star standing on end.
Jahrra grabbed onto one of the remaining branches and hoisted herself up onto the trunk, walking out onto the portion of the log that wasn’t submerged beneath the water. She had every intention to simply stand there and gaze up into the fog-shrouded mountains as she breathed in the beauty of the silent morning. Unfortunately, fate was not in a docile mood.
Across the lake, some seventy or so yards away, a great crashing sound erupted from the greenery. Jahrra almost lost her footing as the noise cut through the serene stillness, frightening a doe and her young fawns farther down the marshy shoreline. It took Jahrra several seconds to realize what had made the noise. Geese. At least twenty or more geese, all of them in varying shades of white and grey, came bursting, and honking, through the reeds and rushes.
A flash of red and white flickered in the corner of her eye, and Jahrra was no longer puzzled as to what caused the ruckus. A fox. A fox had disturbed a flock of geese and was doing its best to capture one.
“Take flight!” Jahrra breathed from her precarious perch. “Why don’t you just fly away?”
She narrowed her eyes, trying hard to find the predator, but it was difficult with the distance and all the movement.
Finally, some of the geese splashed into the water, their wings flapping and their necks arcing as they trumpeted their mutual distress and triumph. A dozen more joined their brethren, then a few more after that. Within the reeds, the fox chased after a few stragglers. Some of the birds, it seemed, weren’t as bright as the others.
Jahrra furrowed her brow in confusion. Even she could have caught the slower ones by now. Maybe the fox was just a kit.
A minute passed, and two more geese made it to the water. Another flicker of a red fox tail and the remaining five geese sprinted free of the cattails, honking and beating their wings as they took to the air.
“Oh, now they decide to fly?” Jahrra breathed.
But they never made it so much as a foot off the ground. They careened into the water, honking and flapping in outrage. And then it occurred to Jahrra that these geese weren’t wild but domesticated. What were they doing up here in the mountains? And where had they come from?
Her question was answered in the next second. Someone burst through the screen of reeds, his hat falling to the ground as he tripped over a tangle of plant life. This person wasn’t very tall, maybe three feet at the most. Jahrra blinked in confusion. Was it a young boy?
Jahrra narrowed her eyes and moved farther out onto the log, trying to make out the individual’s features in the weak, gray light. It was difficult because he was still struggling to free himself from the reeds.
“Accursed birds!” he screamed. “Nothing but trouble and not even worth the down to stuff a pillow with!”
That red tail swished through the air again, and Jahrra felt her jaw drop. It was his tail she’d seen? The strange creature gave one final tug at the reeds and pulled free, shaking himself like a wet dog. That’s when Jahrra noticed not only did he have a fox tail but a pair of ears to match. She gasped in utter surprise as a memory from one of her school lessons popped into her head. This wasn’t a small boy, or even a dwarf, but a limbit!
The limbit stood in the shallows of the lake, cursing and screaming at the geese, who only seemed to laugh at him as they paddled away.
“If you don’t come back here this instant, they won’t let me back into the village! And you’ll most certainly perish out here on your own! All sorts of nasty things living in these mountains. Boarlaques, dremmen wolves, mogrums!”
The geese didn’t seem to care. Eventually, the limbit stopped his fuming and swept his hat up from the tangle of reeds. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, then glanced across the lake and froze.