Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Elara paused only a moment before lifting her hand to knock, aware as she did that this was more than an errand. It was a step forward into Dar’s world, into the life they would share, and into the quiet weaving together of paths that had once run separate.
She knocked and waited.
A pretty woman opened the door, her slim frame round with child, her long, dark hair braided thick and lay over one shoulder. Her belly pressed visibly beneath her apron. One hand rested there instinctively, protective, while the other held the door.
“How may I help you?” the woman asked with a pleasant smile.
Elara dipped her head politely. “Good morn. I am Elara of Leighfeld.” She hesitated only a breath before continuing, aware of the weight of the words as they left her lips. “Dar’s wife… and an herb-scribe.”
The order of her introduction was not lost on her. Nor she suspected, on Regina.
“I am Regina, Gorman’s wife,” she announced, her gaze sliding over Elara with renewed interest. “Well then, hurry in before the chill settles into your bones. Commander Dar’s wife is always welcome here.”
Warmth greeted Elara the moment she crossed the threshold—woodsmoke, baking bread, and the unmistakable scent of herbs drying overhead. Bundles hung from ceiling beams and along the walls, carefully tied and labeled with neat charcoal marks. A cradle sat near the hearth, already waiting, and three small stools were tucked beneath the table, their legs scuffed by frequent use.
Regina closed the door and turned, her hand again finding her belly as she moved. “You’ve good timing. The little one has been restless since dawn.” She gave her stomach an affectionate pat. “Five months along now and already ruling the household.”
Elara smiled. “You make it sound familiar.”
“Aye, well, this will be the fourth to do so.” Regina’s eyes gleamed with humor. “Three daughters already, and another on the way. Gorman swears this one will be a son, but he’s said that every time. The lasses are with him now, a morning stroll, though more so to give me time to get their breakfast finished without chaos.”
She stirred a sizeable pot of porridge in the hearth, while a cloth covered a large plate, the mound beneath no doubt freshly baked bread keeping warm.
Elara’s gaze drifted naturally to the hanging bundles. “You keep a fine collection of herbs.”
Regina followed her look and nodded. “Enough to tend scrapes, fevers, and the foolishness of men who think themselves unbreakable.” She snorted softly. “I’m no healer, mind you. I leave that to those trained for it. But when you live with Hunters, you learn what you must.”
Elara moved closer to the wall, careful not to touch without permission. “You have mugwort,” she said, then smiled. “And nettle.”
“I do,” Regina said, “and from the look in your eyes, you’re in need of some.”
“If you would not mind sharing,” Elara said gently. “We are preparing for travel, and there are… protections I wish to put in place.”
Regina studied her a long moment, then nodded once. “Of course.” She reached for a knife and a basket and handed them to Elara. “Take what you need.”
As Elara cut the bundles with practiced ease, she engaged Regina in talk. “The village looks upon the Hunters with such certainty. Fear, respect… both, I think.”
“They live for the hunt,” she said simply. “It is bred into them and taught before first steps are taken. They measure themselves by it.”
“And you?” Elara asked. “How do you live among that?”
Regina glanced up, meeting her gaze squarely. “I was born and raised here. So, it is easy to understand them. Besides, I know what most do not.”
Elara felt a subtle shift in the air, as if a door had cracked open.
“There is a history to the Hunters,” Regina continued, her voice lower now, careful. “One few speak of. Fewer still remember clearly. It’s easier to believe we were always as we are now—the fearful sound of drums, endless hunts, obedience to the king.”
“But that was not always so?” Elara asked, her fingers curling around the handle of the basket.
Regina met her eyes again, something earnest there, something weighing on her. “You should know that truth has many layers… among the Hunters.”
Elara understood that she would not speak of it now. “Perhaps one day you will tell me.”
Regina’s smile returned, softer now. “Perhaps. For now, take what you need, and know this. Whatever else they are, Hunters protect what is theirs.”
Elara thought of Dar, already gone to prepare for their departure, eager and restless, purpose guiding his every step.
“I am beginning to understand that,” she said, and she suspected there was far more yet to learn.
Elara left Regina’s cottage with the basket tucked securely over her arm, but she did not return immediately to Dar’s cottage or to look for him.
How could she, when the woods called to her?