Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 16a

"You can't go!" Sember pleaded for the hundredth time that week. "I need you here!"

This was by far the hardest part of leaving Foresthome. When I first told her, she wouldn't stop crying. It broke my heart.

"Sember, I'm coming back."

"You don't know that," she pouted. "You could die."

We were sitting on a log by the lake again, and I crouched down so our eyes were level. Her large green eyes were shiny with unshed tears and I nearly crumbled. "I'm a healer," I told her with conviction. "I'm not that easy to kill."

"But why do you have to go?"

I perched back onto the log and looked out at the flock of birds squawking in the middle of the lake. "If you knew you could do something to keep disaster from hurting the ones you love, would you do it?"

Sember's long sigh spoke volumes, and she nodded.

"This is why I have to go."

Sember was silent as she pulled strands of moss off the log. Reluctantly, she said, "Okay. But I don't like it."

***

As word spread about our impending departure, more people approached me with words of encouragement, support, and thanks. I wasn't sure if they truly believed I increased the mission's chance for success, or if they were just glad I was leaving Foresthome and hopefully taking the danger with me.

Sember no longer followed me around, and I began to worry about her. She grew sad and sullen, keeping to herself all the time, and I worried that she might do something rash. A few days before we were set to depart, I sought her out. I arrived at her cabin and found her sitting on the ground outside, playing by herself with a rag doll.

I sat down next to her and she handed me her doll.

"Her name is Siena," she said.

My heart constricted. The doll was made of a coarse cloth worn thin in some places. Some of its edges were a little blackened, perhaps burned. Pieces of yellow straw were jammed into its head to imitate hair.

"Sember . . ." I wasn't sure how to start this conversation. "Are you afraid of having another accident while I'm away?"

She nodded and reclaimed the doll.

"You've been trying to hold yourself back? Not use your gift at all?"

She nodded again and adjusted the straw hair on the doll.

"I have an idea. Why don't we spend the next few days practicing?"

She looked up at me then, puzzled. "Practice what?"

"Making fire."

Her fearful green gaze stared wide-eyed at me. "No, making fire is bad."

"Fire is useful. You use it to cook, stay warm, make light, and fell trees. The only bad fire is the kind you can't control."

As the gears in her mind turned I could see the fear ease from her features a little.

"The more you use your gift, the better you can control it, and the safer you will be. What do you think, shall we try it?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yes!"

We went to the lake for the safety of water and fewer trees. I gave her a twig and said, "Burn this."

She took it and stared at it, but nothing happened. She looked disappointed.

"When you normally make fire, what happens?" I asked, trying to figure out how her gift worked.