Darin turned back to the pile of wood Ridahne had collected to actually start the fire, “You already know everything there is to know about me. I’m a farmer’s daughter whose mother wishes would act more like a girl. The village elders wish I wasn’t so defiant. I taught myself how to farm, and just when I was starting to get the hang of it, I got sent off on a near impossible journey.”

There wasn’t much more to tell that Ridahne didn’t know. Darin’s life was boring compared to the Elf’s. The most exciting thing that had happened to her before the Gardener came to her home was the day her father left. Exciting was the wrong word. That was more depressing than anything else. Darin looked at her carefully constructed pile of small twigs. She then pulled her flint and striker out of her pocket. She struck the flint to the metal in order to get the spark necessary. As soon as she had a small twig barely lit, she bent down to carefully blow on the flame, so it danced across the rest of the kindling. The fire stuck so Darin sat back up. She had done such an action countless times. Patience was key. That was true for most of farming. Rushin did not make the crops grow any faster. Darin looked back out at the rain. The world sent at its own pace.

Darin turned to look at Reidahne, “What more is there to tell you?”

The human was genuinely curious as to what else the Elf could want to know. Darin didn’t really have any secrets to keep from her. She didn’t think. There were things Darin wasn’t going to tell anyone, but those all related to The Seed. Personally, Darin didn’t see any reasons to keep secrets from Ridahne. The human knew that the Elf didn’t feel the same way. Darin knew that she didn’t want to talk about why she had been exiled. She also didn’t seem inclined to talk about her home. Darin didn’t want to press. She was curious, but they had just meet yesterday. It wasn’t her place.

Darin looked down at the Elf’s leg. There was another tattoo there. It was all blues and whites and blacks. Darin was smart enough to know that the tattoos on her companion’s face meant something. It was highly probable that the one Ridahne was working on, on her leg, meant something as well. Darin knew that the Elf was joking when she offered the tattoo. Besides, the human didn’t really want one. It looked like Ridahne was piercing her own skin over and over again with the needles. That level of pain was not something that was appealing to the human. Though Darin did have to wonder: would Ridahne one day bare a mark that told the world she had helped The Seed-Bearer? That tattoo couldn’t be blue or white or black. The Seed was an apple seed. If Ridahne were to ever carry such a mark it would have to be red or green or yellow. It would have to be Apple colored. Darin didn’t know how, but she just knew that much. Some apples were even pink. What would Ridahne look like; with a pink tattoo.

Darin found herself asking another question, “Can tattoos be other colors beside the colors or yours or those red ones? Can they be pink or green?”

Ridahne shrugged, though she didn't look up from her work. The skin was smudged black with streaks of red from small beads of blood but even through the ink her dark skin was reddened and puffy. It didn't seem to bother her much--after getting her ojih, a calf tattoo was nothing. She still thought the ribs were horrible though, especially for her since she was thin and didn't have much in the way of 'padding'.

"I don't know...what did you farm? Tell me about your mother. Or about humans in general? Do you have special holidays and festivals you celebrate? I might be ancient by your standards but I have not left Azurei much. Some, but not much. I know little about humans and their ways."

Mitaja gave a contented sigh and her huge paws kneaded the ground, claws leaving rents in the dirt as she did so. It was for Mark and his team that Mitaja had not been involved; she was as much of a warrior as Ridahne was, though she required no blades and no training. She had keen senses, speed, and very large teeth to aid her, and she was fiercely loyal to her handler.

Ridahne frowned, considering. She had never seen a green tattoo before, though she had seen red before yesterday. Some of the Orosi occasionally used red ink in their ornamental tattoos (they did not have ojih like Azurei did), though they mostly used black. "I don't know how you would get green ink. I guess it is possible...and red I think you could mix with white but I don't know how that would actually turn out on your skin. Especially not mine. But we don't do that in Azurei. We use black, blue, and white. It's...just what is done. Those are the colors of Azurei, and we are proud of them. I guess I could get a red tattoo somewhere on my body and it wouldn't be wrong or anything, but definitely not on my ojih." She pointed to her face. "Those must be black, white and blue, and which color you use for which mark matters."

Darin looked back at the fire, “My mother is beautiful. I don’t look like her at all.” Without even thinking about it her arms came to wrap around her bent knees, “She has the most beautiful deep brown curls. They practically reach her waist. Her eyes are a stunning green. If you believe the stories every boy in the village wanted to partner with her when she was younger than me.” Her voice was quiet and far away, “Everybody in the village loved her until my father left. Then they pretty much ignored her. They said she must have done something to drive him away. She didn’t though. Him leaving crushed her. That’s what I’ll never forgive him for. I don’t care that he left. I don’t care that his departure left us the village pariahs. He destroyed her. She’s getting better, but you don’t ever really recover from something like that.” Her fingers started to dig into her knees, “If, somehow, I run into him on this trip, I will do my ever living best to break his nose. He probably wouldn’t even know it was me. I might not be able to actually do it. I don’t care. I’m still going to try.”

Darin had no idea why her father left. Neither did her mother. He had left without saying anything. One night he was just gone. He had taken half of the supplies and their one horse. The last words he told Darin were words of love and pride. Then he betrayed those promises. He had left her mother broken. For months Darin could see that it took all of her mother’s energy just to get out of bed. So, Darin stepped up. She taught herself to take care of the farm. By the time her mother had enough energy to realize what her daughter was doing it was too late. Even before that man left Darin and her mother had fought constantly about how Darin wasn’t more feminine. The arguments got worse. Darin grew more stubborn. Yet, despite the fighting her mother ahd supported her every step of the way. Darin hated that she had basically done what her father had done. She hated that she had to leave her mother. The only solace she had was that at least her mother knew why she had left.

Darin forced her fingers to let go of her knees, “Anyways, your tattoos, they all tell a story, right?”

She was still trying to figure out if she would every be part of the tale on Ridahne’s skin. Darin didn’t know if she wanted that or not. Humans didn’t tell stories that way. They wrote them down or passed them down orally. Darin still had a few of those stories in her head form when they were pounded in there by the village elder in charge of making sure all the children could read and do basic sums. They were mostly folk stories and legends. History proper was written down. Darin never cared much about history. She cared more about the future. Would it rain to tomorrow? Would next week’s frost kill her trees. How would the harvest go? She was starting to regret that. Maybe if she had paid more attention she would know more about The Gardener, The Tree, and The Seed.

He destroyed her.

Ridahne actually looked up from her tattooing, all the casual joviality sucked from her face. Her first reaction was to condemn this man for leaving his family, for just discarding his partner so flippantly. And then a horrible, crushing thought came to her: Was that what she'd done to Ajoran? It was different because she didn't just disappear--he knew exactly what happened and where she had gone. But in their final moments together, she had renounced him all the same. Decades of courtship and she had callously pushed him away. But it was for his own good. He would be better without her. He needed someone who would not drag him down, someone who could support him in his ambitions instead of cause him trouble. Someone he could wake up to and be proud of.

"I don't understand, Ridahne...you could be pardoned if all goes well. Pardoned. I would wait, you know."
"I know you would. That's the problem. If a leg goes septic you must cut it away to save the body. Don't, and the body dies. You must cut me away, Ajoran." She took off the necklace she wore--a carnelian spiral carved by Ajoran himself--and pushed it into his hands. Worn as a pendant, it was something like a sign of betrothal except not so formal, and once married she was to wear it in her ear in place of the bone one she'd worn since childhood. "I can't keep this, Ajoran."
He would not take it. "Did you not hear me? I said I'd wait for you to do this task, Ridahne. To come back and be pardoned. You can come home and I can keep my position."
"Ajoran, no, I--"
"All these years..." he said, an edge creeping into his tone. Ridahne cringed at the hurt she felt in that tone. "Did they mean nothing to you that you can just--"

Ridahne burst, slapping his chest with an open palm. "It means the world!" she shouted. "And that's why I can't let you waste your life away waiting for me to 'redeem' myself." Tears streaked her inked face. "When I come back, IF I come back, I will be allowed to live but nothing will undo what I've done. Nothing. You can't change that and it's a weight around your neck you don't need."
"I don't care about that, Ridahne."
Her voice grew cold, but her eyes still flowed with tears. "You should. Take it." She tried to push the carved stone into his hand again but he pulled way.
"No." His voice was also cold, defeated. Wounded. "Keep it, even if you never wear it. It was made for you. It wouldn't be right to give it to someone else."

---

She still had it. She wore it around her neck still--mostly for safekeeping--but she did not often let it show if she could help it. Like her past, it was complicated. Ridahne shook her head slightly, obviously trying to ward off a train of thought, and went back to her inking. "Well, if you DO find him, I will hold him down." She offered a weak smile.

In regards to Darin's question about tattoos, Ridahne shook her head. "All of them? No. Some are just...art. Many are ones I got during significant points in my life but the designs mean nothing in particular. This one is one of those." Tap tap tap. She was quick and confident with the little bone needle, her hands steady and practiced despite the pain. "The face ones, they are called ojih, and they do mean something. All of those ones do. There are some things in life that are significant enough to define who you are, and those things get put into the ojih. Good things, bad things--doesn't matter. The symbols are universal to a degree, enough that to someone who knows what they're looking at, they can be read. A stranger can look at me and know I am a Torzinei and I am from Atakhara just by looking at this," she tapped the large bone earring dangling from her stretched right earlobe, which was carved on the flat face that hung down. "That isn't part of the ojih, not really, but it sort of is in a way. The ojih could show though if I..." she considered, trying to give general examples instead of more specific, personal ones. "Was wed or not. Or my profession or status I've achieved. It would show great achievements maybe, or rank or...well..." she shrugged. "Crimes."

Well that answered Darin’s question. Odds were Ridahne would never get a tattoo that told the world that she had helped the Seed-Bearer. Now that Darin knew the answer to that question, she was strangely relieved. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about Ridahne personally. She was willing to bet that the Elf truly did want to make sure The Seed got planted where it was supposed to, but that didn’t mean the human truly knew anything about her. All she really knew was that that the warrior had done something that should have had her sentenced to death, but instead got her exiled. Darin stole a glance at the tattoos on her face. The farmer assumed that one of them told the people who knew how to read them exactly what she had done; well maybe not exactly, but at least the severity. Darin wasn’t sure what one it was. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Darin found herself speaking, “Sometimes you can tell similar things by looking at a human’s hair. A woman without children tends to wear her hair down around her shoulders. Then when she has her first child, she starts pinning it up. I think that’s more practical than symbolic though. The child can’t yank on hair it can’t reach.” Darin sighed as she moved to lay down, “That doesn’t work for me though. I cut my hair all off when I was sixteen. My mother just about died of shock when she saw it.”

Darin found she couldn’t lay down because Mitaja was behind her. She let out a sigh as she sat back up. Her shoulder was starting to hurt. She didn’t want to say anything though. It wasn’t a real pain. It was more of a dull throbbing. She had worked out in the fields while being in a lot more pain. Darin still didn’t think her back would ever be the same.

Darin found herself asking, “If I was Azurei what would my, you called it an ojih right? What would my ojih look like? I’ve been a farmer for about five years, I’m not married, and I’m pretty sure I’m the bottom of my village’s list of important people. Well, at least I’m not a drunk lay about like Todd.”

Darin had no idea why she had asked that. Maybe it would help her understand Ridahne’s culture better if she could relate to it. It was worth a shot. The human did want to understand the Elf better. She also didn’t want to pry into something that wasn’t any of her business. Besides, maybe that was a rude question. Suddenly Darin wasn’t sure. There was also the fact that Ridahne might not have enough information to answer that question. It wasn’t like cultures had direct translations from one to another. It wasn’t like Darin could tell where Ridahne would fit in her culture. Absently, she bit her lip. She might want to take that question back before Ridahne grew offended

She spoke carefully, “You don’t have to answer that. If it’s rude you can just tell me to buzz off. I would understand.”

Ridahne looked at her briefly as she re-dipped the needle into the black ink. "You're wondering if...this," she gestured between the two of them, "Will go on my ojih someday, aren't you?" She gave a short, dry laugh that could only be described as casual. "I wouldn't, by the way. We don't have such a mark anyway. But... assuming all goes well and we succeed and I make it back home, I would get another mark to partner with this one..." she pointed to one that seemed a little crisper than the rest on her face, more recent. It was between her brows and on the bridge of her nose, a kind of curved, three pointed mark in solid black. "That would be a 'redemption' mark, of sorts. To show that I proved myself worthy. But the thing about black ink, you can't cover over it. Ever. Blue and white, yes, but not black. What I've done will be on display until I die and the Keeper judges me. Like the act that earned it, I cannot take it back or erase it. It just is. Always. It makes going home....complicated. Even after all this." She gave Darin a sad smile.

Ridahne had been truthful when she once said that she had nothing left. Nothing but a thin hope. To her people, she was worse than dead, she was dishonored. Her future, ruined. What did she have left but this quest? But this one chance to prove to no one but herself that she had some worth? She would see it done. No matter the cost.

She cringed and gave Darin an awkward noise of discomfort, though she didn't immediately shake off the question. She racked her brain for something to give her and yet she wasn't sure what she ought to. Those that did not take the ojih were not supposed to know its secrets. "Errmm..." Another cringe. "I don't know how uh...to answer that. The question is...it's not...it's not rude. rude isn't the word. But it's like asking...ah..." she shook her head, unable to find a comparison. "But..I can tell you it would be...simple. And I can also tell you that you would have a mark like this..." she traced a black line from her ear, down her jawline and almost to her chin; it had other lines and branches from it but was essentially an ornamented, unbroken line. On hers, it was the most faded of all her tattoos. "It is...everyone who takes the ojih has one. And it is styled to suit you. And your first one is never done by your own hand--always by a master tattooer. It's tradition. is that...um...sat-is-fact-or-y?" she said the word slowly and clearly--obviously it was not one she used often and still felt foreign on her tongue.

Ridahne smiled a little, looking mischievous. "Okay, you asked an awkward question. My turn. you don't have to answer though. Before your father left you...who did you want to be? What did you want to do? Did you know?"

Darin glance at Ridahne from the corner of her eyes. IT seemed the human had struck a nerve by asking about the ojih. She wasn’t sure what nerve she had struck, and it didn’t seem to be good idea to ask which one. In fact, Darin decided to let it be for now. There were other questions she could ask when it was her turn again. Then again, she wasn’t sure she would take another turn. She wasn’t sure which questions would cause problems after all.

Darin turn her attention to Ridahne’s question for her. The Elf was wrong. It wasn’t an awkward question. That didn’t mean it was an easy question. The human had to think about it. The warrior’s question was not quiet the same as “Where would you be if he hadn’t left?” It was more like, “Where did you want to go?” Darin had been asked the first question by the elders more times than she cared to count. IT was an attempt to convince her that just because her father had left there was no reason her future had to change. The only problem was that Darin was pretty positive that the future that the elders want for her was not the future she wanted for herself; even when her father had been in the picture.

Darin was silent for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before she shrugged, “I don’t know. I know what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to be some farmer’s partner who was only good for giving birth to his children and keeping his house. I know it makes a lot of girls happy to do that, and that’s fine. I just wouldn’t be happy doing that. I didn’t really have any aspirations to leave home or go any further than Lively. I would probably wind up partnered to some one though. 14, the age I was when he left, is when people start considering who to match their children to. That’s also when children start matching themselves. None of the other kids my age were interesting. There was one boy from Lively who was pretty cute, but everyone knew that one day he would just be gone. I couldn’t imagine leaving my mother before this happened. I don’t know what I wanted. I just know that this wasn’t it.” She laugh, “But here we are, trying to save Astra, not because it’s right, but because we have no choice or the other choice is terrible.”

Wasn’t that the truth? Darin would not have picked this for herself. She couldn’t imagine Ridahne picking it for herself either. This was a journey with not clear destionation. They just have to wander all of Astra until they found the spot where The Seed wanted to go. That could take weeks, months, or even years. There was even a chance that they could start walking tomorrow and find it not more than twenty feet from where they were now. There journey was so nebulous that Darin was surprised that they had even come up with a plan to go see The Tree.

Suddenly Darin asked, “The Tree, have you seen it. I’ve never even seen pictures of it. I’ve just heard stories about it.”

Midway through Darin’s explanation of expectations of most women in Lively, Ridahne let out a sudden noise of sympathetic exasperation, even stopping her inking to look up at her new travel partner. “Oh, by the tree, if I was ever condemned to be like that...” she gave a little laugh. “I can’t imagine myself becoming one of those women...the ones who stay at home all day, stay inside, raise children and clean and cook. I’m not a good cook,” she laughed. “I’m better than Hadian, my brother, but Ajoran was always better than me...” A sad note touched her voice as she said this, but it didn’t stay.

“No, I can’t blame you for not wanting to be like that. What a dull life... Azurei women have different standing in society than in human lands. From what I understand, women here are supposed to be second to men, yes? Submissive? The man makes the decisions in the home and the woman follows? We are not that way. We are a matriarchy—-females are the head of the household and they rule Azurei. We believe the gender responsible for giving life should make decisions for those she cares for. And we also believe that those who give life should be the ones to take it, as well. We don’t have as many male warriors, not like you. The sword is a feminine art. It is a dance, prized for its elegance, control, and speed. The idea behind female warriors, also, is that women will naturally have a better appreciation for life and will thus be more careful when taking it from someone else.”

She went back to her tattooing. “I was also expected to be something different than I wanted. The Torzinei clan has been fishers for ages, and it was sort of expected that I would stay in Atakhara. I wanted more. And eventually Scouts came to town and took a liking to me. I wanted what they offered and eventually left home to pursue...new things.” She did not elaborate on what those were; it seemed her former occupation was something she was not keen on revealing unless cornered about it.

Darin asked about the tree and Ridahne sighed heavily, sadly. She had seen the tree. And she wouldn’t forget what she saw. “Yes...I have. In a way, anyway. I h ave not seen it in person, but the vision I had showed it. One moment I was in a cell talking to Ajoran and...the next I was in this...glade. In the center was the Great Tree, its branches spread wide and high into the sky like a living mountain. Around it were once flowers of many kinds and colors but they had all died. Wilted, dry, and broken, their colors faded. The Tree’s leaves fell but it was not autumn. The leaves that fell were not red and gold but black, brown, and gray. The bark, which was supposed to be smooth was starting to flake away like sunburnt skin.” She had dropped her tools now, eyes looking unseeing at the wall of the little cave; they were filled with tears and her voice quavered as she went on. “And I could feel the stillness in the air. No wind blew. No birds sang. The sun gave no warmth. And it showed me what would come if you failed. Darin...what do you know of war?”

Ridahne’s face was haunted as her amber eyes turned to the younger woman. She knew of war. Her people still remembered it and told stories of it, sparing no harrowing detail. The Azurei knew that its horrors should not be forgotten, even when the tree was alive and well. And now, as the Tree was failing and slowly evil was going to creep into Astra, Ridahne knew it would come if they failed.

Darin looked at Ridahne, “I’ve heard of it. Something that happened when countries were angry with each other. Families would send off their warriors never knowing if they would come back home. People died by the thousands; killed by people whose only difference was the place they called home. Children were stolen and forced to do terrible things. War and death went hand in hand.” She paused for a moment, “There are stories that the elders tell, that say The Tree was planted to stop a war that threatened all of Astra.”

Darin didn’t know how true those stories were. Then again no one knew why The Tree had been planted. No one knew anything about The Tree’s origins. Some said that all the gods of Astra planted it together. So said it was one god trying to keep another god out. Some said it stopped evil. Darin had even heard one man say it limited free will. Both evil and free will were such nebulous concepts that Darin wasn’t sure that they could be completely stopped of stilted. Darin remembered her mother saying murder was evil. If that was the case than The Tree should have stopped it. Everyone knew that murder was still a thing. Even before The Tree became sick warriors were killing other warriors. Did that count as murder or something else? Darin didn’t know. One thing she was pretty sure about was The Tree did stop war and something called slavery. Darin only had a vague idea what that one was. It had something to do with taking away freedoms, but the young farmer wasn’t sure.

Darin spoke again, “The Tree is such a nebulous thing. There are so many stories about it. Most off them are probably exaggerations or tall tales. I would like to see it before we get much further along. That might give me some hints about where The Seed needs to go.”

Darin didn’t say it would also let her know how to best to care for The Seed once it was planted. She didn’t like to admit it, but some would need to take care of The Seed as it started to grow. That was what The Gardener had done after all. That was another entity that had been shrouded in mystery. There were just as many stories it not more about him. Some even said he was a god. That couldn’t be true. Gods did not die. Darin didn’t think so at least. It was known that that he wasn’t a human, Siren, or Elf. He was not one of the Children that anyone in Astra had ever seen before. He looked human, but no one who looked at him would call him a Child of the Stone. Darin had even heard that Sirens saw a Siren without seeing a Child of the Sea while Elves saw an Elf without seeing a Child of the Sky. No one could explain that. Now he was dead, and he had left a woefully unprepared girl as his heir.

Darin asked another question, “What story do your people tell about The Tree’s origin? I’ve heard so many. And I do like hearing more.”

Ridahne sighed, trying to gather herself a little. "That's just the beginning. My people tell stories of it so we remember. It's not just killing each other on a battlefield, its families ripped apart, civilians starving and scraping to get by so the soldiers can be fed, its people's homes being destroyed in fires, sabotage of crops and water sources--yes, in the past people have poisoned water supplies. It's conquering a city and then raiding it. Looting. Murder. Rape." she shivered at that last word. She had caught someone trying to force himself on a young woman once, and as far as she knew the little village still told stories of the way an Azurian Ghost of the Sands had come and butchered him. There was no mercy or help for anyone who did such a heinous crime if Ridahne caught wind of it. "The horror of war stretches far beyond the battlefield, beyond soldiers. And I saw flashes of it in my vision. There is nothing I would not do to see this mission through. Nothing."

And she meant it. If her own brother stood in the way of this quest, she would cut him down if she had to, so long as it meant saving the land she loved. Of course, Hadian never would. He was Ridahne's opposite--if she was fire, he was a cool breeze. If she was stone, he was the ocean. Calm, cool, reserved, and he desired nothing more than peace.

Ridahne's hands started to shake from the repeated tiny stabs of pain from the needle and she began to clean her materials, clean her fresh ink and smear it with the fragrant balm she used for wounds, and packed her supplies neatly away with respect and reverence as if they did not belong to her and she wanted to keep them nice. There wasn't much new ink to be seen, only a small patch that had been filled in. A tattoo could be shaded in faster if the individual dots of ink left by each needle strike were left further apart, but that was not the Azurei way.

The elf thought back to her childhood, memories of lying in the still-warm sand of the beach and listening to stories from her mother as waves crashed nearby. "Hm...we have many stories. I have heard the one about the tree being planted to prevent war. There is also a story of three slaves in ancient times, people kept in fetters and chains and made to work without pay or without reaping the benefits of what they do. At the time, an evil elf king had conquered most of the land and made slaves of those who resisted him. And one day three slaves, a human man, an elf woman, and a siren woman escaped their masters and ran for freedom, seeking new lands where the evil king could not dominate them. They traveled south for many leagues but they met resistance, and one day the siren woman was shot with an arrow. They carried her away and tried to heal her, but they could not, and she died. The man and the woman decided to bury her, but they had no tools to dig with. They used their hands, which bled from the effort, and buried her deep beneath the ground. They wept over her grave, their tears soaking into the dirt. Together they traveled on, gaining strength and support as they traveled, until they led a resistance against the evil king and threw him down.

Now, about this time, a sprout had begun to grow over the siren woman's grave. Born of blood and of sorrow and the hope for better days full of peace and freedom, a plant had begun to grow. And though it grew over the body of a siren, the blood of humans and elves were also in the soil with their tears, and with the blood of the Three this plant grew from no seed and formed a tree. As the evil king fell, the spirit of peace that birthed the tree took hold over the land and as it grew, its influence spread and became the Great Tree we know now. I have heard that the Gardener was the human man who had helped in its creation, but I have also heard that he was the son of the siren buried beneath it, or that it was an elvish man who had lost everything in the wars and wanted to make sure it never happened again. I'm not sure what the truth is, or if there's any truth at all in the whole story. You met him...what was he like? Who was he?"

Darin scoffed, “I saw him for maybe two hours total. He came to Lively first. Then he came to see my village. We did our best to put on a feast that was worthy of his status. He has dined with all manner of royalty, human kings, Siren rulers, I’m even willing to bet that he visited your Sols?” She paused to fire off an aside, “That’s what your leaders are called right?” She continued, “We knew there was no way we could rival them, but we still treated him the best we could. I did not speak to him at all. When the feast was over, he asked the prettiest girl and the best hunter to talk to him in private. Some waited for the two to be dismissed. I was among the few that did not. I had chores to do. Then when I was done, I looked up and there he was. I have no idea how long The Gardener had been watching me work. He gave me The Seed. He gave me instructions. Then he died. I’m not even being metaphorical. I’m not exaggerating. He died literally right after given me this job; right in front of me. I screamed. People came running. I explained what happened and the village prepared me as best they could before they sent me off. And you know where that got me.” Then Darin actually answered the question, “He appeared to be human, but he didn’t look human. I can’t really explain it. He didn’t have the pointed ears and slender frame of an Elf. He lacked the gills and webbed hands of a Siren. He was stocky like a human. He looked human. I would never call him human. I would call you human before I called him human and he looked more human than you do.” She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, “He did not look like a Child of the Stone.”

Darin hoped she didn’t offend Ridahne by saying she would call her human. The human wasn’t trying to offend the Elf. She was just trying to explain something she couldn’t explain even to herself. She wanted to know what others saw when they looked at The Gardener. The other humans of her village had agreed with her. He look human, but did not look like a Child of the Stone. That was jarring. The be human was to be a Child of the Stone. Darin wanted to know what a Siren had seen when they looked at the Gardener. Would they have seen a Siren without seeing a Child of the Sea? Would an Elf see an Elf without seeing a Child of the Sky? So, few people called specific induvials by the title of Child. It was mostly used as a species identifier. Humans were the Children of the Stone. Elves were the Children of the Sky. Sirens were the Children of the Sea. If all people looked at The Gardener and saw the race without seeing the Child that meant only one thing; at least only one thing that Darin could think of. It meant that the Gardener was not from Astra. If the Gardener was not from Astra, what did that mean for her? What did it mean for The Seed? Darin didn’t want to think about it.

Ridahne listened, nodding thoughtfully but then she suddenly screwed up her face like she'd bitten into a lemon and stared at Darin, bewildered. "He...died? Like dropped dead right there in front of you? Okay okay...did he...was...I mean was there any kind of struggle or suffering or like did he seem to know? Did he have time to know? I...I've never heard of such a thing in my entire life." She rested her forehead on her fingertips, still trying to process that. She was no stranger to death and had seen many people die before and for many reasons, including ailments. It was always one of two things: a slow, agonizing march to the end, or a quick, violent halt. The latter was often less horrible. But she'd never heard of someone carrying on a conversation and just...keeling over like that, dead all of a sudden.

She nodded. "Yes, the Sol. He came. I did not see him, I was...away. And guests of such high honor generally are not made to suffer the presence of the likes of...well, me. This was before my execution sentence and eventual exile, but even though I was...involved...in the upper courts, I was not meant to be paraded around. So I was not. Ajoran though, he is a Taja. It is a position of great honor, and they are elite men who protect the Sol and serve them. Taja means 'arm'. But he was there and told me about their meeting. He said nothing of the seed--back then nobody knew there was one. The first the Sol heard of the Seed was from me. I asked him to describe the Gardener and he had difficulty doing so. Isn't that interesting? He never mentioned if he was man or elf or siren. I wonder...what if he is none of them? What if he is not a Child of Astra at all? Or...either that or he is but he is not one of the Three. Odd. Did you ever find out what he said to the prettiest girl and the best hunter?"

Darin looked up at the setting sun. Soon it would be too dark to work. She finished just in time. She was worried that she wouldn’t since she had to pause to go to the feast honoring The Gardener. She wasn’t upset about that. She understood why it had to happen. She just wished it hadn’t needed to take so long. Regardless, it was done, so were her chores, and she would get a good night sleep tonight. There wasn’t much more that the young girl to ask for. She moved to the water spigot to duck her head under it.

The sudden voice caused her to hit her head on the metal, “I like your farm.” Darin rubbed the back of her head as she turned to see The Gardner, “It’s clear you put a lot of work and effort into it, Darin, daughter of Martin, by Talia.” He was looking straight at her, “I am very impress.”

Darin quickly ducked in to the closest thing she could do to a bow, “You honor me Gardener.” She was at a complete lost, “You honor our village.”

The Gardener quickly cut her off, “Enough of that. I’ve had enough of that polite honor nonsense the entirety of my journey.”

Darin rose from her frankly terribly bow to look at The Gardener. Something didn’t look right about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on what looked wrong. He looked almost like an old grandfatherly elder that couldn’t help but love everyone. He had kind eyes and a kinder smile. Darin felt herself wanting to trust him, but shoe couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. After all, she had no idea how he had known her name. It was off putting to say the least.

He walked towards her, “I have a job for you to do Darin.”

She took a step back as she warily asked, “How can I help you?”

He shook his head, “Not me. All of Astra. You know The Tree is dying.”

All of Astra knew that, “Yes I do?”

He continued, “And you must be smart. You know it can’t be fixed.”

Darin was locked in place, “If it was fixable you wouldn’t be traveling around Astra. No.” She stopped herself.

The Gardener continued the thought, “No farmer leaves their fields if they can do something to stop it.” Darin nodded in understanding and the man smiled, “So I have A job for you.” He then commanded, “Hold out your hand.”

Darin followed the command slowly, “What’s the job?”

She felt something drop into her hand, “Plant this. To protect Astra. I can’t tell you where. I can just tell you that The Seed knows where home is. It will know. I know it seems like a big job, but there is good. You will not be alone.”

Darin looked down at her hand. It looked like an ordinary apple seed. She knew it was much more. She felt herself lose her breath when she finally put the pieces together. She had a Seed from The Tree in her hand. She was carrying The Seed in her had. She was carrying the future of all of Astra in her hand. Why had The Gardener given this to her? She looked up at him in confusion.

He was smiling at her. Slowly he nodded. Before Sarin could ask for clarification, he swayed forwards. Darin’s hand automatically clenched The Seed tight as she held out her arms to possibly catch him. Then he pitched backwards. Darin let out a shout as she leapt forward to catch him. They went tumbling to the ground. Darin wound up with her knees on the ground and The Gardener’s head in her lap. She quickly felt for a pulse. There was none.

She screamed out, “HELP! Somebody help! HELP!!!”
--
Darin shook her head, “He just died. I never found out what he said to the elders or to Thomas and Milla. They refused to tell me.”

She didn’t know why they didn’t tell her. It wasn’t surprising. The whole village, not just the elders, thought that Darin was a problem. She didn’t fell in line. She was tolerated because she didn’t cause trouble. She was slightly surprised that they had believed her when she told them what The Gardener told her. She supposed it was because the fate of The Tree and now The Seed wasn’t something you claimed to be able to help unless you actually could. Maybe it was because she didn’t actually lie to anyone. The village’s main problem with her was that she was a girl running a farm on her own. Then again, maybe the Gardener had said something to the elders or Thomas and Milla. Maybe they were just glad to be rid of her. Maybe it was because all you had to do was just look at The Seed to know what it was. It was probably a combination of all those things.

It was Darin’s turn to ask a question, “What did you do? Before you did whatever you did that got you exiled. What was your job? Can you talk about it?”

Darin knew nothing about Ridahne. She knew that she was some wort of Elf warrior exile. She didn’t’ know much more than that. She didn’t know if it was true of not, but Darin felt like the Elf knew more about her than she knew about the warrior. It made her uncomfortable. Darin wasn’t sure she trusted the warrior. She didn’t know how to know if she could trust anybody. For all she knew Ridahne could just be waiting to see The Seed. It probably wouldn’t actually help, but Darin felt if she could get to know a little bit more about the Elf, she would feel better about traveling with her. Darin looked at the rain. It was getting heavier. At this rate they would be stuck until morning. Darin pulled her pack towards her. If they were going to be stuck she might as well see if she had anything to eat.

"Refused to tell you? Well that seems ridiculous. I mean you had just been given the Seed and named the future Gardener, and they wouldn't tell you? Disrespectful if you ask me." It occurred to Ridahne then that she had not been entirely forthcoming with information herself, though she had never once deceived her. She merely...kept some things quiet. Still, it wasn't like she'd asked and Ridahne refused to answer. She felt like those people, who had always known Darin, now owed her some transparency at least. Unless they had been told specifically not to...hm...

Darin asked the question Ridahne had been dreading to hear (though thankfully and notably she didn't specifically ask what she'd done to get herself nearly executed and then sent away). She grimaced and gave another uncomfortable sound like when Darin had asked about the Ojih, though this was much less uncertain. This was not something just taboo that was difficult to talk about. This was outright uncomfortable. Personal. She debated answering at all for a long time.

--

"Oh. It's Hadian. I thought it smelled like fish. Ugh." The older boy sneered at Hadian and his little sister. He was from a merchant family and therefore far better off than the Torzinei family, and he wanted everyone to know it. This boy, Jirakh, was old enough to have his first ojih mark, a swirling black line form his earlobe to his chin. When he didn't receive a response from Hadian, he stepped forward menacingly, though both the Torzinei siblings were as tall as he was. "Hey. I was talking to you. Look at me when I talk to you, Torzinei."
"Go home, Jirakh. Don't you have better things to do than bother me? We have work to do."
Hadian made to leave, motioning for a young Ridahne to follow him, but Jirahk stepped in front of them both, blocking their path. "That's right, you poor folk always have to work don't you? Especially now." Both siblings' heads snapped up, eyes lit suddenly with anger. "Did you have to sell all her things?" Jirahk continued. "Or is your father holding onto her things in the hopes that your mangy sister might have a husband someday? Tell him to sell them and buy you some half decent clothes, Hadian. This one will never marry anyway...not without her mother to--"

Hadian was already cringing by the time Ridahne let out a feral snarl and leapt at the older boy, throwing her balled fist into his eye. He'd hoped Ridahne wouldn't lose her temper...but he supposed that was too much to ask for. Not that Jirakh didn't deserve it, but now there would be trouble. He didn't even see the rest of the fight unfold, just saw a cloud of red dust as the two went down into the sand, scrabbling at each other and swinging fists. Jirakh was heavier than Ridahne and tried to make use of that, but he wasn't prepared for the fight she had in her, and somehow she ended up on top of him, beating her fist into his stomach as Hadian began to grab her and try to pry her off. She slapped him away, wriggling out of his grip only to be caught in the grip of someone else.

Ridahne froze, looking up to find a tall woman with a complex ojih and a curved sword slung across her back looming over her. Both Hadian and Jirakh were backing away slowly, ready to run if they had to. The woman studied Ridahne for a moment, lifting the girl up to her feet by her arms but not yet letting go. Ridahne swallowed.
"We'll go home. Right away. Promise."
The woman's voice was cool. Icy. "You did a lot of damage to that boy...Torzinei," she said, inspecting the earring in her right lobe. "You can get in a lot of trouble for that."
"Won't happen again, Eija, I promise. We will go home. I promise..." It was perhaps not the most truthful thing she had ever said, but in that moment she believed that she would never fight again--after all, how could she stand defiant while being stared down by an Eija...?
The woman smiled, and neither Hadian nor Ridahne knew what to make of that. "Do you fight often?"
"I...yes." the answer came as a breathed whisper like it had been squeezed out of her.
"Do you win?"

Ridahne blinked, looking first from the woman, then to Hadian, and then Jirakh, who now had a bloody nose. "I uh...y-yeah? Sometimes? But I--"
The woman's smile widened and she let go of Ridahne. "You've got fire, kid. But an uncontrolled fire can burn things it was never meant to. It can cause a lot of damage. It must be tempered with stone. I can give you stone. Tell me, have you given thought to your calling?"
Ridahne stammered, "I'm a Torzinei...we...fish."
"But not you, I think," the woman said, her voice thoughtful. "Go home. I will speak to the scouts of you, and when you have come of age I think they will find you and see if you're meant for something more than fishing."

--

Ridahne took in a deep breath and began, "My family are traditionally fishers. I was expected to follow that path and I thought I would, but...I never really wanted to. I just didn't know what else was in store for me. What else I could be. At a young age I was approached by some scouts--people who try to find young Azurei who have talent for certain callings. The idea is that you train them early and they become better at whatever it is that they do. I um...I was scouted out for being an Eija. And at the time I thought it was wonderful. I liked that someone saw something more in me than just a life of saltwater and fish. When I was old enough I jumped at the opportunity to become an Eija..."

She fell silent again. How to go about this...? "I told you that Taja means 'arm'. They are men who protect and serve the Sol. Eija...it means 'hand'. They carry out the will of the Sol. Whatever she asks, we do. You could call us soldiers, except 'soldier' implies 'war', and there's not any. You could call us constables..maybe...but we were more than that. Too dangerous to be servants exactly, too far-roaming to be guards really." There was something else she was leaving out and it was painfully obvious, but she didn't seem keen on forking over the information so easily.

"There was a time I was honored to be one of their number. I took pride in it. I met the only man I ever loved because of it. I trained and I learned and I owe who I am to being an Eija. I'm just...not so sure that I'm proud of what that has made me anymore. Maybe under a different Sol, things would have been...well just different. But." She cut off with all the hard abruptness of stone, then added, "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Darin stood abruptly. She didn’t like this game. She didn’t like it all. For one thing Ridahne wasn’t playing right. Darin was more than willing to answer the questions the Elf posed as best she could. Ridahne seemed less inclined to return the favor. Darin already knew that her exile and the reasons for it were taboo. She had messed up when asking about the Elf’s culture, and now Ridahne didn’t even want to talk about what she had done with her life. Darin was starting to wonder if there were any safe questions to ask the Elf. Darin was starting to wonder if she even liked the Elf warrior at all.

Especially since she had said the one thought Darin had been purposely avoiding. Darin didn’t want to be The Gardener. She was still holding on to the hope that she would get to go back home after this; home to her mother, home to her farm, home to her normal, ordinary, boring life. Darin new it was a foolish hope. She knew it would never happen. She still held on to it with all she had. Astra was too big for Darin to try and understand. She wasn’t doing this for Astra. She had been truthful when she told Ridahne that she was on a mission for her mother. She was looking to plant The Seed for her, and she wanted to go back home to her. Maybe that made Darin a child. Maybe it made her a fool. Darin didn’t care. She didn’t want to think about being The Gardener, and now a woman she barely knew, and couldn’t seem to get to know, was thoughtlessly throwing it in her face while claiming that withholding information from her was disrespectful. The irony, or possibly hypocrisy, left a bad taste in the human’s mouth.

Without thinking, and in a colder tone that Darin hadn’t used since the last time the elders chided her, Darin spoke, “You know, humans have a saying. Trust is a two-way street.” Darin didn’t bother to explain what it meant, “Thomas and Milla told me they couldn’t tell me. I’m trusting there is a reason for that, and they are trusting me to plant The Seed.” She turned to flash an almost dangerous look at the Elf, “I will not have you disrespect the only two people in my life who have ever supported me no matter what I did!” Her volume increased with a shout, “Especially when you do not know them!”

Wasn’t that the truth? Even her own mother questioned why she couldn’t act more like a traditional girl? The elders were fond of chiding her for her actions. The grown men outright scorned her while the woman gossiped behind her back. Children her age and younger mocked her when she succeeded and laughed at her when she failed. Thomas, who was two years her senior, and Milla, three months her junior, had never once tried to make her fail. They never discouraged her. In fact, the first time Milla had seen her badly inflicted hair cut she had sat Darin down to fix it. Darin’s pants had all once been Thomas’s that he had snuck to her. They were the ones to convince Rolland to let Darin borrow Heath to plow her field that second planting season after her father had left. They traded just as much with as they did with others in their village. They had been the ones to promise to take care of her mother. They were the closest things to friends she had. The Seed-Bearer would not let them be slandered by a woman who wouldn’t even tell Darin what she had done for a living!

Darin’s next words were still cold, but were at a reasonable volume, “And I am not The Gardener, at least not yet, perhaps not ever. At most I am the Seed-Bearer.”

With those words Darin dropped her pack and walked straight out into the rain. It was childish and Darin would admit that she was running away. She didn’t care that she was soaked in a matter of moments. She just couldn’t stand to be in that enclosed space with Ridahne for any longer. She was done with the stupid game. She was done with trying to skirt around the things the Elf didn’t want to talk about. Darin had things she didn’t like to talk about, yet she still mentioned her father. The human supposed it wasn’t fair to expect Ridahne to talk about things she didn’t want to talk about, but the Elf was trying to get the human to trust her. She was doing a horrible job of it. There had been no two-way street in that stupid little game. To the human it felt that she was walking down a road until she ran into a brick wall that broken her nose. Well Darin was going to go nurse her metaphorically broken nose somewhere else. She was hoping Ridahne wouldn’t follow her. She was surprised that Talbot didn’t. What she didn’t know was that if the Elf had tried to go after her Talbot would stand in the way. He would not hesitate to kick the warrior or her animals if he needed to.

As Darin began to burst, Ridahne's frustration began to grow. How was she supposed to know these people had been supportive of her? Hadn't she expressed that people generally didn't like her very much back home? Or at least treated her like an outsider. And if Ridahne was going to be sent unprepared on perhaps the most important mission in history, she would want anyone who knew anything to tell her what they knew. Didn't that just make sense? Besides, yelling at Ridahne was a sure way to spark a fire, as she generally didn't like being yelled at. She herself was prone to outbursts, and that combination made her rise to her feet. She was tall even among Azurei people and towered over Darin, the firelight turning her already honey eyes a dangerous orange-gold.

"And how was I supposed to know that?" She shouted. "From what you've told me the people of your village mocked you and disrespected you at every turn! And you expect me to know the difference?" Her eyes narrowed. She had gotten the distinct feeling Darin was not satisfied with the information Ridahne had given her and that irritated her even further. She understood that they were strangers and Darin wanted to know who she was traveling with, but the questions she had asked, Ridahne at least tried to answer. She had explained some basic things about the Ojih and she had accurately described the Eija. They were not one thing and she had tried to explain this nuance. Yes, she had left something out, but she wasn't ready for that yet. Darin would find out soon enough...just...not yet.

"You might think you want answers about me, Darin. But have you ever considered that maybe you don't want to know? I swore an oath I would not deceive you and I meant it. I swore to serve you, Ri'atal. And if you commanded it of me I would tell you every black stain on my pathetic life but you did not, we were casually talking and so I tried to answer you without revealing things I wasn't ready for. I TRIED, alright? What more do you want from me??"

Ridahne growled and kicked her own pack, letting Darin go. She wasn't about to go after her. For one thing, it wouldn't actually do any good. Space was good for both of them. What was more, Ridahne got mean when she stormed out and someone tried to follow her and continue the conversation. She broke a woman's finger like that once. So, frustrated, she paced around the cave for a while before slumping down and taking something to eat. She wasn't going to cook tonight and a cold supper would do just fine. Darin could leave her and never come back for all she cared. There was nothing forcing the human to keep her on as company and she was free to leave her if she wanted. Though she'd left her pack and Talbot, Ridahne still thought darkly about Darin leaving her. Then she could say with finality that she'd failed and could go home one last time, report to the Sota Sol of her failure and have done with it.

Grouchy, Ridahne draped her cloak over her, hood up, and lay on her side with her saddlebags as a pillow, and Mitaja stretched beside her to add warmth.

Darin wasn’t sure how far she had walked from the little cave. She wasn’t sure she cared. She wanted to be mad, so she was going to be mad. She knew that it wasn’t fair to be mad, but she wasn’t sure she cared. She knew she hadn’t been fair to yell at the Elf either. Darin tried to be fair. She really did. She tried to see things from other people’s points of view. She just didn’t always succeed. It was harder than it sounded; being fair to others. Darin wasn’t sure it was even worth it.

Right now, she was trying to convince herself that Ridahne had a choice to come on this journey while she didn’t. The only problem with that was it simply wasn’t true. They both had a choice. Ridahne could choose to die or come on this impossible journey. Darin could choose to let Astra fall to ruin or come on this impossible journey. Those weren’t amazing choices. It wasn’t like there was much of a choice, but it was still a choice. So, Darin couldn’t even say that she had been fore to come on this journey while Ridahne had not been. The Elf probably thought she had been forced to go as well. It was a terrible situation all around.

Then there was the fact that Ridahne was right. Darin had led her to believe that she was an outcast back home. How was the Elf supposed to know that anyone had been kind to her? The human had certainly given no indication of it. For all Darin knew Ridahne thought she was coming to Darin’s defense. Then the Elf had a good reason for leaving details out of her stories. Darin hadn’t asked for those details. In fact, the human had tried to avoid those details all together. So, it wasn’t fair of the human to expect those details. Darin cursed and muttered under her breath. She wanted to be mad at the warrior. It was hard to do that when she was trying to find good reasons for what she had done and said or not said.

Darin let out a wordless screech to the sky. The sky responded not at all. Darin cursed her own stupidity for leaving the cave. She was cold and wet, and the rain didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. Darin returned to muttering. She couldn’t go back now. She could go back when she was ready to apologize for not being fair. Darin scoffed at that thought. Why did she have to be the bigger person? Oh right, she was Ri'atal, hope of many.

Okay, Darin could be mad about that one. If she was being fair to Ridahne she should be fair to herself too. The human had told the Elf not to treat her any different, and yet here she was using names that probably had no real meaning. Alright, that wasn’t fair. Ridahne wasn’t treating her any different. If she did, she wouldn’t have yelled at her. Okay, Darin couldn’t use that against the Elf. The human paused to let her head make contact with the nearest tree. May The Tree save her from her own stupidity. She had messed this up big time.

It was getting darker. The sun must be setting behind the rain clouds. Darin wasn’t sure she was ready to go back. Even though she was fairly positive she had no right to be mad she still wanted to be angry. Darin found a good-looking tree and started to climb. She wasn’t the best at climbing, but she was okay at it. She climbed until the branches could no longer take her weight. Than she sat with her back to the trunk and closed her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first night she spent in the rain. Darin didn’t think it would be her last either. She would head back in the morning. Maybe, she would be ready to apologize then. She would at least have to go get Talbot.

It was probably childish of her to be so frustrated and angry. But truth be told, she was frustrated and had been so for much longer than their conversation. And a great deal of that irritation was not Darin's fault either. She really wasn't sure who's fault it was, or if it could be blamed on any one person. She had been frustrated with her work as an Eija. With the Sol she belonged to. She had been frustrated by the vision and how maddeningly vague it had been, and with the months spent on the road, alone, discouraged, and bitter. And now she was frustrated with the way things were working out. Some reasonable part of her assured her that it would blow over and they'd sort things out in time. But she didn't feel very reasonable at the moment.

It occurred to her that the one thing in the recent years of her life that she'd been at peace with was her own death. Execution by her own blade in the hands of another. Somehow that had been so much easier to swallow than any of this. That frightened her. What did that mean? Anything? It wasn't like she wanted to be dead, but when events fell into place and the sentence passed, she'd been so...ready for it. Not eager, just...prepared. She supposed that she'd had half her life to think things through and to know deep down where her choices would lead her. When she had done her crime she knew the price to be paid.

But things had changed so fast. It was like the moment she accepted her path, fate blew up a storm and in hiding that road uncovered another. And she wasn't sure where it would lead. Maybe that was what had her so on edge.

Ridahne rolled over, unable to find rest just yet. She stared up at the gray rock above her and spoke in Azurian, "You got a lot of nerve, Ancestors, choosing me. Was it your intention to find the worst possible person and turn them into some kind of hero or did you just do this to me out of spite? Maybe it's The Tree orchestrating this, not all of you. Doesn't matter. You should have picked someone else. Someone better. I am what they made me and what they made is not good. I should not be the one to do this task."

She burned inside. Frustration, anger, bitterness, and even a small amount of despair bubbled up inside her and threatened to find a way out if she didn't release all that energy somehow. Ridahne stood and, ignoring the rainfall, went outside with her sword drawn and began to go through her stances and forms with all the precision and elegance of a dancer. But there was power there, too as she swung, the steel ringing faintly as it sliced through the air. It was something she did when she was stressed, needed to clear her head, or was upset about something that could not be so easily fixed. It was something to focus on, something that gave her purpose. The intensity and speed of her 'dance' grew, building and building until it came to a peak as she swung her sword hard into the nearby trunk of a tree, feeling the shock of it rattle her arm and shoulder. She released a scream, a feral battle-cry that seemed to sum up everything she felt all at once.

Ridahne stepped back, panting. Well, she did feel better. It felt good to get some of that out of her system. But as the adrenaline wore away she became increasingly aware of how cold she was, not to mention wet, and that did little to improve her mood. Feeling cooled down but not very cheerful, Ridahne heaved the blade out of the tree trunk, went back inside the cave, wiped it down with care and sheathed it, then curled up again close to the fire. Part of her thought maybe she should send Mitaja out to find Darin and keep an eye on her, but with the way Talbot leered at her when she'd just gone out of the cave, Ridahne guessed the horse wouldn't have it. Besides, she had an inexplicable feeling that if something truly awful happened, Ridahne would just...know. She had a good sense for those things anyway but she suspected perhaps there was more at play there. So she settled in and, feeling foolish for getting all wet, eventually found uneasy sleep.

Darin woke up miserable. She was cold and wet. At least the rain had stopped. She automatically searched for the sun. It wasn’t too late but it wasn’t early either. Darin stretched out. She was very careful not to fall out of the tree. She had forgotten to strap herself in. So, it was a good thing she hadn’t fallen out already. She carefully moved out of the tree. She hadn’t realized that she had picked an apple tree to climb last night. So, on the way down she picked several of the almost ripe ones to have for breakfast. Eating while working was something she mastered via practice. Even climbing could be done either one handed or while she held the apple between her teeth. She took of her cloak and tied it into a makeshift bag. It would be bad manners to return to the group empty handed. She felt a little better now that she had slept and eaten. She felt stiff from spending the night in the tree; or maybe it was the horseback riding. She wasn’t sure.

Darin dropped to the ground. She was holding the core from the apple she had just finished. She was about to just toss it when she had a thought. She carefully knelt down and using her hands dug a hole about six inches deep. Darin dropped the core down the hole and recovered it. She supposed she could consider it practice. She wasn’t sure it counted or was the same thing, but it was close enough. Darin would take it. Then she started back to the cave.

Only to stop about halfway though her second apple. She had no idea where she was in relationship to the cave. That hadn’t been her primary concern last night. She was more concerned with getting away as quickly as physical possible. That meant she now had no idea how to get back to Talbot and Ridahne. The odds of the Elf finding her completely by chance were slim to none. At least the warrior would know who she was looking for this time. The question was; would she look. Darin wasn’t so sure. They hadn’t been very happy with each other last night. Would Talbot look for her? Darin just didn’t know. She spent a lot of time not knowing. Maybe that was part of where her frustration last night had come from; not knowing things she felt she ought to know. She wasn’t sure how to address those feeling though.

She decided to call out, “Hello! I’m lost! Talbot! Ridahne! I’m sorry! I’ve got breakfast! Please come find me.”

The odds of it working were slim to none. However, back at the cave, Talbot’s ears picked up. He would reach out to grab at Ridahne’s shirt, but he would only tug once. It was supposed to be an invitation. The horse would not force the Elf to come. Then he would start walking at a brisk trot in a seemingly random direction. Still, he moved with a purpose. He knew that he was going somewhere. He would only pause for a minute to make sure he got his new person’s pack and weapon between his teeth. He didn’t want to leave behind anything important after all.

Darin started walking in the direction she hoped the cave was in. Occasionally she would let out another shout of “Hello!” She really was a mess. She could get lost going from her farm to Lively, and she had done that countless times. Why a girl who couldn’t keep a map or a compass in her head had been picked to do this seemingly impossible task was beyond her. Maybe that was one of the reasons Ridahne was sent to her by whoever sent her. Darin knew that she wouldn’t get this job done without the Elf. By The Tree! Darin had been hanging from a cliff the first time they meet. Was that really only three days ago? It might have only been two depending on how you counted. Darin had only slept twice since she meet the warrior. Was counting sleeps a good way to keep time? Next thing she knew would be falling over a gorge and there would be no vines to catch her.

Of course, that would be what promptly happened. Thankfully it wasn’t a deep gorge, but the apples went tumbling and Darin bruised her shin pretty badly. She let out a his of pain as her had cam up to her injured shoulder. She had hit it with the ground as she went head over heals on her way down. She hoped she didn’t tear the stitching. Darin looked up at the clear sky only for it to be blocked by what looked like her pack and sickle. Both fell. The sickle hit the ground, but Darin let out a groan of pain as the pack hit her face.

Then she saw who it was, and leapt up, “Talbot!” She wrapped her hands around his neck, “I’m so glad you found me!”

Ridahne awoke a bit sore from sleeping on stones and still a little damp, which made her very displeased. She rolled over with a groan, then looked around for her human companion. She figured if she'd come back Ridahne would have heard it (she had impeccable hearing) but there was some chance she could have missed her. Nothing. Aside from Mitaja, who was very unhappy about being disturbed, Ridahne was alone in the cave. The elf let out a long, slow sigh. "Protect the seed-bearer, they said. I swear I'll see it done, I said, whatever it takes, I said. And then I go and lose her. Great job, Ridahne. Absolutely stellar." She looked miserably at Mitaja and stroked her silky belly as the cat stretched languidly. "You made a great choice, Ancestors. Truly top-notch." Perhaps it was stupid to have gotten all heated last night, and perhaps she shouldn't have been so stubborn and should have at least sent Mitaja after her to keep an eye.

Feeling a small sting of regret, Ridahne began to pack up camp but didn't yet mount up and leave. Talbot and her things were still there, and Darin wouldn't get far without them. Something about that encouraged her, made her hope she'd come back. So she waited. And waited. And waited. The sun got higher and higher and soon she was pacing. Now what? She supposed she ought to go look for her, though if she did she would have to leave some kind of sign in case Darin wound up back here after all. Or maybe she'd just bolted and Ridahne had already failed.

Talbot suddenly moved, going to scoop up Darin's pack and trotted off; Ridahne was quick to the uptake and leapt swiftly onto Tsura. She whistled once and Mitaja perked up from where she'd been lounging and smoothly trotted after her, seeming to pick up on a trail that Ridahne could not yet sense. If she was honest, there was a pang of anxiety deep within her that something had happened while Darin was off on her own, something awful, but when she began to hear the calls she knew the truth. Darin had gotten lost. She actually sighed and rolled her eyes, partially at herself and partially at the humor of the situation. Sure enough, she rode up to a little gully to find Darin at the bottom of it with Talbot with twigs and leaves in her short hair from a short tumble.

Ridahne folded her arms and leaned back in the saddle, looking so casual on the back of Tsura that it seemed like they were one and had always been one. "Well well well..." she said, a teasing tone to her voice and a little glimmer in her eyes. "A little lost, are we? It's a good thing you've got Talbot, he's the one who found you. I merely followed." From her tone and demeanor, it was as if nothing had ever happened the night before. That was the way with Ridahne and with most Azurei in general; Shouting matches and small spats were common enough that they didn't weight to heavy on them, so once all parties were cooled off, they brushed it off. Ridahne liked it that way. Things were dealt with up front and people got things out that they needed to, then moved on. It was a good way of going about it, she thought. But she didn't think all humans operated by the same rules, in fact she remembered loosely that they tended to have more subterfuge.

"No hard feelings about last night?" She offered. "I know I am...reactive. It doesn't take much to get my blood up and in Azurei it's more common for us to shout about things than I think it is here. And I never meant to disrespect your friends. I didn't know." She bowed slightly in the saddle, a gesture of humility. As she did it, Tsura dipped his head and lifted a foreleg in unison, making the gesture a little more grand. She had taught him to do this at her signal so she could give proper respect to someone while mounted. "And..." she looked away, obviously uncomfortable as she fiddled with her reins. "If you ask it of me I will tell you more of what it means to be an Eija. More of what it meant for me. It's not a good truth," she warned. "You won't think highly of me after I tell you, whether you did before or not. But..." She couldn't even look at her. This was very difficult for her and that was obvious, but she soldiered on anyway. "You should know what kind of person you have at your side. In part I thought that if I told you, you would not want me anymore and would send me away. It's probably what I deserve but I hoped I could show you that I am more than my past before I told you everything. Anyway. The choice is yours. If you want to know, I will tell you now."

Ridahne still couldn't look at her, couldn't meet her eyes. She had so much shame and that was beginning to show in the way she studied the stitching of her saddle, the way she wrung her hands tight in the worn leather reins until her dark skin went nearly white, the way she couldn't sit still. She'd made up her mind sometime in the night but now that it came to it, it was so much harder to even tell her just that than she imagined.