Soul Bound

Chapter 5

It had been a couple of days since we had started to rebuild Brar. Dad was working overtime with Hiron and the wagon, travelling to Riverwood and back with supplies. He should be returning from his second trip later today. In anticipation of his return, I wanted to go hunting, bring something big back to uplift everyone's spirits.

Erika glared at me while I twisted my hair into a knot at the base of my neck. I returned the favour. Like I was going to let a six year old be the judge of me. I couldn't stay cooped up in this broken house any longer. While I lay in bed "recovering from my wounds," everyone out there was working dawn to dusk to put the village back in order. I wanted to do my part. I wasn't a weaver or a farmer and certainly not a builder--but I could hunt. That was my thing. I wouldn't let anyone take that away from me. 

"Mom says you're not allowed to hunt until you feel better," Erika reminded me, still giving me that disapproving look. Her fair hair fell over her eyes and she frantically brushed it aside, trying to keep her scolding demeanor. But she had lost. She just looked like an adorable little kid. To make matters worse, I ruffled her head.

"I'll be fine, kiddo."

Before I could leave the room with my bow, Erika screamed for Mom, ratting me out in one big breath. I froze in the middle of the hallway, taking in a deep, slow breath, fighting all urges to chase my little sister around the house like a banshee for ruining my escape plans. Chasing her would only get me into more trouble. 

Mom was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. She batted her flour-ridden apron, standing tall as she did so. "Eva, you're unwell, you can't go out in your condition. Go back to the bedroom."

You mean the bedroom all four of us have been sharing? No thanks. It was way too small for four people, especially when one of them was a six year old who didn't understand the concept of privacy.

Rolling my eyes, I lifted my shirt for what felt like the hundredth time, exposing my scars. That was all they were now--scars. I was completely fine thanks to the mysterious dragon, but no one seemed to believe me; they thought I was "toughing out" my injuries. To be fair to them, that was a definitely something I had done in the past. Just not this time. "Mom, I really am okay. I want to do my part for the village. I can't do that in bed."

She came over, a sadness in her eyes, and touched my cheek lightly; her hands were warm from kneading. I smiled at her to ease her worry. She returned my smile half-heartedly; there were creases in her eyes that weren't there before the storm. Her brown eyes, usually a brilliant shade of toffee and filled with spirit, seemed darker in the lighting, more troubled. I grew up hearing stories of my wayward mother, who redefined what it meant to be a woman in Brar. She never let a man tell her what to do, refused an arranged marriage to be with my father, and encouraged me to join Jacob in his sparring lessons with Dad. I loved her, admired her. Seeing her like this. . .

She'd thought she'd lost you and Erika that night. Of course she's worried. The little voice inside my head was right, of course. She must have spent the better part of the night thinking we wouldn't be coming back.

I threw my arms around her. "I'll be careful." That was all I could give her. It wouldn't be right to promise her I'd be fine out there, I did intend on going off the path, after all, but I could promise her that I'd do my best to be cautious and look after myself.

She squeezed me tight then held me at an arm's length away. "I wanted to keep you home a little longer, but I know you wouldn't stay put for long--you're my child, after all." She chucked my chin with a small smile. "Bring something big home for your father to cook up." 

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too, Evangeline."

I grimaced at the use of my full name. She usually used it when I was in trouble, but today it was a term of endearment. That didn't make me like the name any more, though.