For Kevin...
2008-11-05, 1:10 a.m.
The seconds trickled away, with no maddening ticks to mark their passing. The girl sat on the floor by the hearth, her knees tight to her body; creating inert waves in the folds of her turquoise dress. She sat, composed and silent, awash in her own thoughts.
A prophecy? A blessing? A treachery?
Her piercing gaze had become much softened by the confusion lurking in their depths. The girl’s eyes had caused endless talk and speculation since her birth. Both were huge and innocent, placed perfectly like the most precious of jewels between long dark lashes; but whilst the right eye was a clear deep blue, the left was a bright lucid green.
The girl’s sadness was enriched by the solitary silence in which she sat; her frame was no more than that of a child, but her high cheekbones and upright posture betrayed a simple maturity that radiated from her very being. The fire before her, burned earnestly; fighting back the shadows to the corners of the cosy bedroom in which she sat. The girl’s chest hitched a heavy shuddering sigh, breaking the allusion of stillness; her hand had instinctively reached between the slight buds of her approaching womanhood, enveloping the object hanging from a fine silver chain around her neck. She felt, and was much comforted by its familiar warmth; a heat emanating from its core, rather than the open fire before her. Her hand did not stay long caressing its solace, slowly falling back into her lap amid the calm satin sea. Kayla was once again still, staring into the fire with eyes not seeing.
What was she? What was her purpose? Why her?
Kayla cast her mind back to the day she met Paladin and acquired the flint-piece. She remembered it so vividly, as though it was only yesterday. Kayla had been seven. She had walked alone, down by the water’s edge. Barefoot, her fiery hair cascading beautifully to her waist, Kayla padded over the dewy grass. She had been immersed totally by the birds and their song which welcomed the dawn. There had been a rustling in the dark bushes to her left; Kayla at first had not heard, but soon the sound interfered with her thoughts of fairytales and far off lands. Kayla had turned around and stood watching the copse with her aberrant eyes, waiting; nothing happened.
“Hello?” She called; her voice small and unsteady, not carrying far. “Who goes there?” No response. “I know you are there, I hear you. I demand that you come out!” Nothing, no sounds now, only the birds. Kayla had turned as if to leave, but caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye.
“Child, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm.” A thin man emerged from the copse, in what looked like it had once been a fine outfit, but now was muddy and torn. “Miss, my name is Paladin and I am a member of the Hidden, a tribe that resides in the Verbor mountains to the East.” He spoke in a voice that was smoother than silk, his dialect different from anything she had ever encountered before. Kayla had no words; she tried to hide her eyes from him. For, although he was a stranger, she did not want him to be afraid of her. The man, Paladin, sensed her awkwardness and proffered his hand to her in the manner of a handshake. Before she took his hand, Kayla had noticed a livid scar running across his palm. It did not repulse her; she thought instead that it reminded her of something, as if from a dream that slips away with the coming of the morn. She held out her own hand, and allowed his long slender fingers to grasp her smaller, delicate ones. Kayla and Paladin smiled at each other, their hands together for longer than a normal brisk shake; surely longer than what was socially acceptable, but it mattered not. They were friends.
That was the day he had given her the flint necklace.
Kayla emerged from her reverie, shivering slightly. She found herself still sat by the fire, which was no longer blazing brightly, but had burned down mere embers; it was cold. Kayla’s hands were once again wrapped delicately around the object hanging from her neck. The seconds trickled away.