Shaded

Duara found herself near the springs that looked towards her cabin. Atop a hill of dirt, she sat. Not really doing much. She did this in Haford too. High branches, hill tops, and balconies pondered she. Seldomly, when she met with her mother, it was usually in the upper altitudes—where her mind lulled, and where she could disappear in the breeze until her mother shouted for presence.

The grass kneeled with her touch, and once she’d pull up her hand, it’d glisten with morning dew.

A mist was common here, and it always shied from the sun, as if it played a game of hide-and-seek. What was it like to play hide-and-seek again? Would Ashya want to play that? Surely, it’d be too adolescent; it’d be too childish to even bring up.

The bushes behind rustled as Ashya herself appeared. She wore what she usually wore. Dirt stains with a shift and tunic—it was never the other way around.

She gave a morning nod, and a pleasant smile. “I see that you’re enjoying the morning.”

“I am,” Duara replied, “I’ve woken early; I’ve done my morning duties. Hurredly. Just so that I could come here and watch the mist roll away.”

Ashya climbed the hill, and somehow added more stains to her clothes. She sighed with a trifle relief, and stretched her arms above her head. “How’s the cabin?”

“We’re readying it before the early autumn chills. We’re trying at the very least.”

“I’m certain I can help in that effort,” Ashya said giddily.

“I’m certain you could. But…” Duara took some time, gathering her thoughts, and after a breath she said, “my father and I—we’re indebted to Drethen, and really more so specifically you, Ashya. I don’t know if we could allow ourselves more… help.”