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He should have worded the note better.
“There’s something important I need to do,” he wrote. “If I’m not here when you arrive, please make yourself at home. ”
It seemed unsuitable now that he thought about it. He kept turning the words over and over in his mind as he made his way to the farm.
It was unsuitable, wasn’t it?
It sounded like she wasn’t important.
Didn’t it?
He sighed and ran his hand across his face. He should have worded it better. He should have assured her that she was welcome there. He saw how anxious she got after she asked if she could stay at his place tonight, looking at him with her round eyes wide open — a sernuk caught in a lamplight, like the words she spoke felt to her like an arrow she pointed and shot at herself. She probably was afraid she overstepped. And truth be told, her question had sent his mind spinning with thoughts of what was proper and what wasn’t, but he managed to conceal all of that from her. That was not the priority. She needed his help.
She was exhausted, that much was clear. She tried to carry herself as if she was fine, and he did his best to not let her see how scared he was for her. He didn’t think that letting her know how tired she looked was going to make her feel any better. And the dry leaves stuck in her hair might even look charming, under different circumstances. Circumstances that wouldn’t make them so damn worrying.
She was not okay.
And he should have worded that note better.
At least Tau was in the camp. The plumehound was unmatched when it came to uplifting spirits and keeping company. And he was probably a more welcoming and hospitable host than Hassian would ever be, so there was that.
He sighed and hesitated for a moment before knocking at the door of the Daiya house. Some turmoil arose inside, and he could hear Delaila’s voice calling Auni. Another moment passed before the door finally opened and the youngest Daiya presented his broad smile with a missing tooth.
“Hi!” Auni said enthusiastically. “Did you come to play cards?”
“Not this time.” Hassian gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m here to see your mom.”
“Ah. Well, that’s lame. Come on in! Did you see my backpack there by the door? I have a lucky leaf attached to it now.” The kid led Hassian towards the kitchen, and the stream of words never dried. “Elouisa said that its scent scares away monsters…”
“The only thing it scares away is girls,” his older brother cut in as he passed by the two of them on his way outside.
Auni stuck out his tongue and made a face at Nai’o’s back. Then he turned back to Hassian. “Even if, I’m okay with that. Mom! Hassian’s here,” he announced as they entered the kitchen.
Delaila turned around, wiping her hands against her apron. Her fingers left traces of flour on the fabric. “How are ya, dearie?” she asked before Hassian could say anything. “What brings ya here?”
“I was wondering if you might have the time for a small apple pie,” he said, taking in the chaotic landscape of the kitchen. “I see that you are busy, though.”
“Ah, for the girl, isn’t it?” She also took a look at the chaos around.
“A girl? Ew,” Auni commented.
“Auni!” Delaila gave him a stern look, then she turned to Hassian again. “Today’s a busy one. I’m tryin’ a new recipe for blueberry dumplings.” She put her hands on her hips and she wrinkled her brow in thought.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb.” Hassian took a step back, ready to leave.
“Nonsense, yer not disturbin’.” She gave her kitchen another look. “We can manage. But you boys will need to help.”
“But mom!” Auni objected. “I was going to catch some dragonflies!”
“Ya can catch them another time. Quickly now! Move that pot over here.”
Following Delaila’s instructions, they freed enough space for the two of them to work on the pie. She sent Auni to fetch a jar of apple juice and she prepared a few other tools and ingredients for them before returning to the dough for her dumplings.
“Now,” she said, “apples are there — right there behind you, dearie — put some in this bowl here.”
He did as she said; uneven crescents of dried slices fell down into the bowl with a soft murmur. Auni came back just in time to snatch a few of them. Delaila took the jar he brought, and she poured some of the apple juice into a saucepan; it had a cloudy orange colour, more resembling pumpkins than apples. As they waited for it to boil, Auni’s mood seemed to have brightened up a bit again. The stolen snack might have contributed to that.
“That girl you like,” he said, chewing the apple. “It’s the one that lives at the treeline?”
“Yes.”
Auni shot a quick look at his mother to make sure she was occupied, and he leaned towards Hassian. “Is she a vampire?”
The question was unexpected, and Hassian looked at the kid, raising his eyebrows. Before he could answer, bubbles began to form in the saucepan, and Delaila instructed them to pour the juice over the dried apples. Auni quickly stole a few more pieces before the rest disappeared under the surface.
“She’s not a vampire,” Hassian told Auni when they moved to the table to combine flour, salt and sugar in another bowl. “Why would you think that?”
“Oh.” Auni was visibly disappointed. “Well, that’s a bummer. It would be so cool if she was a vampire. I saw her in the village and she is so pale! I don’t know if you’re aware,” Auni’s voice turned into a stage whisper, “but vampires lose all colour when they turn, and they become pale just like her! Elouisa told me that. Oh, and she also has those dark circles below her eyes, just like vampires! Because they never sleep, they just kind of lay in their coffins—”
“She’s not a vampire,” Hassian repeated, wanting to stop the kid from going any further. Hearing all those remarks reminded him again that she wasn’t okay.
“Bummer,” Auni said, and he started to work butter into the flour with his fingers the way his mother showed him.
One thing Auni was not wrong about — just like the vampires, she hasn’t been sleeping. She stayed up at least two nights in a row. Hassian didn’t even need to ask when he saw her in the morning; it was easy enough to read from her appearance.
He thought about the amulets now hanging around his camp, and he leaned towards Auni. “She is a witch, though,” he said, lowering his voice as if he was sharing a secret.
Auni gasped. “She can do magic?” He accepted a fork that his mother handed to him along with further instructions.
“Something like that.” Hassian smiled at him while adding water to the bowl.
Auni’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Can you ask her to show me?” he asked, and the motions of his fork became visibly more enthusiastic.
“She’s not feeling very well right now. But once she’s better, I shall.”
“Ah, don’t give him ideas,” Delaila said, looking at them over her shoulder, “or the poor girl will never hear the end of it. Are ya done with the dough? Give it here, we’ll put it in the icebox for a while now.”
They drained the apples and set the juice aside. They began mixing the apples with sugar and cinnamon, and nutmeg, and Hassian’s mind drifted away again, leaving behind Auni’s complaining about all the dragonflies he could have caught today. She was wearing earrings now, he noticed it that night she fell asleep at the campfire, when she tipped her head back against his thigh, and her hair uncovered her funny small round ears. He wasn’t sure if he should mention it, so he didn’t. Maybe he should mention it today? Or shouldn’t he? Was it too late to mention it? After all, she’d been wearing them for a while by now. They were pretty: black stones and black feathers, and steel wire. She must have made them herself. He should’ve mentioned it. It was definitely too late now. It would just be awkward.
Delaila hovered over their shoulders to check the contents of the saucepan. “Pour some of the juice back in here now,” she said. “That's enough, that will do. And just poke them from time to time, will ya? Auni! We’re not done yet.”
Hassian accepted a wooden spoon from her, while Auni was handed a bowl full of frozen berries and delegated to help with the dumplings. He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, as if putting berries in the dough was the worst punishment he had ever experienced. It might have been related to the fact that frozen berries were not really something he could munch on in the meantime.
“I don’t mean to be a snoop, now—” Delaila looked at Hassian with concern, taking advantage of the fact that Auni’s attention was elsewhere, “—but what is wrong with her? Looks rather awful, she does.”
Blunt truth made him flinch a bit. He could still picture her vividly, as she entered the light of his campfire for the first time. She looked like she had battled Death itself and all its demons. And it was all his fault, he knew that much. He had abandoned her when she needed him most.
Delaila must have read the guilt on his face. “There, there,” she said, touching his arm in a comforting gesture. “I’m sure that whatever happened between the two of you, you can fix it. I can see that ya really care about her. She sure sees that, too.”
Irbisica told him the same thing, he remembered. “It’s nothing we can’t fix,” she said that night, right before she broke down crying in his arms. And he couldn’t grasp why she was crying, and he was afraid he had said something wrong. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time, sometimes it felt like he had a gift for saying the wrong thing. But then she said she was crying because she was happy, and that was just the weirdest thing. But her eyes… Her eyes were genuine, and it was such a paradoxical image. Her whole appearance spoke — screamed loudly — of the deepest misery, but her eyes were glowing like she was the happiest person in the world.
And he had no choice but to believe her, even if he didn’t understand.
“Thank you,” he said.
Delaila gave his arm a gentle squeeze before returning to her pots.
He barely noticed Auni scooping apples from the saucepan with a spoon. His thoughts were somewhere else — at the camp, that night — that moment she finally decided to step out from between the trees, after lurking in the shadows for what felt like an eternity. Up until that moment, he wasn’t sure she would actually want to talk to him. Up until that moment, she could still decide to turn around and leave. She could decide she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.
But she stepped out from between the trees. And she tried to smile, but her eyes were like two dark circles burnt into a deathly pale canvas. That night she looked like she hadn’t slept in forever, like she had spent all that time crying. And she was approaching him so slowly, so cautiously, like a hurt animal.
“Ya need to poke ‘em,” Delaila cut into his thoughts.
It took him a moment to return to reality and realise she meant the apples. Obediently, he poked them, carefully avoiding her intent gaze.
“There are rumours goin’ around about her, y’know.” She shook her head and chuckled. “You’d never guess it by lookin’ at him, but Zeki is just the biggest gossip hound.”
“Zeki has it all wrong,” he answered a bit too sharply, and immediately adjusted his tone. “Apologies. I— The rumours are not helping her, she’s—”
He didn’t know how to explain it, even though he understood it well — the discomfort caused by being perceived and judged.
But Delaila seemed to get it anyway. “Poor dear,” she sighed. “It’s good that she has ya lookin’ after her.”
Her intentions were honest, he knew they were. But her words just magnified the guilt. Irbisica was in such bad shape because of him. Because he had abandoned her. Left her alone to deal with the same emotions he was struggling with, and with whatever harm the northern lights had done to her on top of it. Yes, he was looking after her now, but how much had she suffered because of him before?
“Well, the apples here had enough.” Delaila clasped her hands and she inspected the contents of the saucepan. “Good job, boys. I will do the rest here now.”
“So I can go?” Auni jumped to his feet.
She sighed. “Go. Just be back for supper, ya hear me?” she called after him, as he darted out of the kitchen.
“I think he enjoyed it,” Hassian observed, looking at the door where the kid disappeared.
“He did,” she agreed. “But he’d rather give up his entire bug collection than admit it.”
Delaila assembled the pie with a mastery that only comes with years upon years of assembling pies, and she put it in the oven.
“Now,” she sat down next to Hassian and covered his hand with hers. “I can see yer bothered. You feel responsible. I won’t be askin’ what happened, don’t worry. What matters is, did you apologise?”
He nodded.
“And did she forgive you?”
“I— think so. I hope so.”
“And did you forgive her?”
He looked at her with a mixture of surprise and confusion. “There was nothing to forgive.”
She smiled and patted his hand. “Maybe she feels the same.”
She got up and went back to her pots, leaving him with this rather unexpected remark.
He remembered that morning in front of her house, with the air filled with sunlight, and Tau lying on the ground, and their hands in the plumehound’s fur. He remembered how she took his hand, and the touch of her lips on his skin, and how it felt so good it seemed wrong. There was so much light in her eyes when she looked at him. So much trust. And she even fell asleep right next to him, twice. If that wasn’t proof he was forgiven, he didn’t know what would be. People fall asleep only around those who make them feel safe. She felt safe around him, and that just made him want to protect her more. Prove to her that her trust wasn’t misplaced. That he was worthy of it. That he wouldn’t let her down again.
He treasured that trust. He appreciated the meaning of it. He basked in it, as if it was some divine grace. She had every reason to reject him after what he’d done, he was prepared for it when he left her that letter on the bench. He was prepared for her to throw it in his face like—
He stopped himself before he offended her with that comparison. She was nothing like Tamala.
So when she came to him with an open heart and cried in his arms, and fell asleep as he caressed her hair — he carried her like she was the most precious and the most fragile thing, and he made sure she was warm, and he looked at her as she slept peacefully and swore to shield her from harm as best he could. She already had to deal with so many things by herself, but no more. She’d never have to fight alone again.
Steam filled the kitchen when Delaila opened the oven to check on the pie.
“That will be ready soon,” she said.
As if he was called by that, Auni stuck his head into the kitchen again. “Will I get a piece?” he asked.
“No, you will not. And don’t ya try steal it,” his mother answered firmly. “But you’ll be the first to try the dumplings, how’s that sound?” she added softer as he pouted.
“The ones with blueberries?” He perked up again.
“The ones with blueberries,” she confirmed, shaking her head with a smile.
“Fine. That’ll do.” He wrinkled his brow in thought. “Didn’t she like muffins, though? The girl?”
“Yes, that’s her favourite,” Delaila chuckled. “Or so I heard.”
“Apple pie holds the second place,” Hassian explained.
“Well, she doesn’t have the best taste, then,” Auni said with certainty. “Everyone knows there is nothing that beats blueberry pie.”
“Auni!” His mother looked at him with disapproval.
It didn’t take much longer before she took the pie out of the oven.
“There ya go, dearie,” she said, as she packed it neatly and handed it to Hassian. “Everything will be okay in the end, ya hear me?”
*
There was light, flickering between the trees.
There had never been light before, there had never been anyone to start the fire before his return. Granted, it was his own choice to live far away from everybody else, in a place nobody knew about. But that light — warm, fluttering, shy — that light was a welcome change.
As he moved towards it through the forest, fewer and fewer trees obstructed the view; soon enough he could see her, sitting by the fire, with her back against the log. She turned her head and looked at him; there was no more anxiety in her, no insecurity. Her eyes, although still tired, were not those of a shot sernuk anymore. Maybe the note hadn’t been so bad, after all. Or maybe it was thanks to Tau, who was sleeping with his head on her lap.
She seemed so peaceful, warm… glowing.
Had the flickering light he saw from afar been the fire?
Or had it been her?