Lynesse

Small Jobs - Part Two

Calebbe,

As the person I am sending this letter on behalf of has been incredibly unhelpful, I have sent two copies. One by owl, one by post. From what I have gathered it is more than likely that the one by owl will reach you first, if this is the case her name is Luna and she would enjoy a mouse as payment for services rendered.

I have in my company Lynesse Gloamingdawn, whom I found left for dead at the bottom of a ravine a few days past. She mumbled your name in her sleep, that is the closest I have gotten to getting any information out of her regarding whom to possibly contact regarding her state and situation. She does not seem to trust me -- highly unfortunate but not unexpected. Rest assured that if you are too busy to retrieve her she will be in good care none the less.

My home is located in the woods, in a clearing west of the Scorched Grove; Luna will know where to go if you choose to follow. It is a decently sized wagon with two broken wheels. The paint is red and gold.  

Regards, 
Isra

She’d dictated what she was writing the entire time, in the most sardonically sweet tone I’ve ever heard anyone use, because I wouldn’t tell her much. I didn’t know her. What if this was a trap? Apparently “he doesn’t have an address” and “lives wherever in the woods” is more than enough for her to figure out a way to get a letter to Calebbe. I’d believe it when I saw it.

Luna herself was actually a fairly pretty owl. Moonfaced and tawny, mostly disinterested in everything. Isra fed her a few mice in thanks for doing the task before sending her off, scroll in a little case tied to one of her feet.

I’d managed to prop myself up on a stack of mismatched, multicolored pillows. The pose was awkward, slightly turned on my hip so I could see the length of the wagon from where I’d been stashed on the bed in the back. She and I had multiple intense staring matches, we were both stubborn. Depressingly, she usually won. What is it about old people that they can make you feel so foolish and ridiculous with an artfully timed quirk of an eyebrow?

The white haired witch scowled when she’d seen how I positioned myself, “I’d go back to laying flat were I you; You’re doing yourself no favors.”

I hadn’t the foggiest as to what my actual injuries had been, and she hadn’t been volunteering that information at all. My decision as to how to respond was to scowl right back, defiantly. Childishly. 

“You bruised your spine, had fractures in your arm and both of your legs. I suspect you were already unconscious before you were discarded like trash which is why you aren’t worse off. Your magic took care of whatever they did to dose you with poison, but by that point you’d likely used too much because your blood was still swimming with it when I found you. If you want complications and potential issues for years to come, by all means, continue to do what you want. Rest normally for the rest of the day and I’ll help you move out to a tent in the clearing,” her tone didn’t really leave room for any argument.

Her way or nothing. Alright. That information had been valuable though; I was still trying to reconstruct what had happened so I could put a pin in who’d tried to have me killed. There was a list of potential aggressors – It’s why my apartment is always warded to the teeth. Adjusting back down to flat was exhausting in and of itself, but being outside in the wood instead of stuck in this stuffy wagon sounded incredible.
***

The light shone through the colorful scarves strung over my palette of silken quilts, each square a different color with a different pattern. Isra had piled a bunch of cushions in the center and had helped me out to them, but I hadn’t been able to move much since.

I was hurt more than she’d let on and said, and my magic wasn’t cooperating. Nearly dying had thrown everything off, and every time I got enough to make any difference it tried to heal everything it could and exhausted to almost nothing again. That alone lead to lethargy and feeling positively awful on top of being injured. Isra’s potions helped a little; She’d finally seen fit to bind up my leg and arm, but there was nothing to do about my ribs. Still, it was warm enough to just sleep outside. It occurred to me that I’d probably have to block off my magic to let it build back up, which sounded equally miserable, if not worse.

Drifting in and out of sleep had been my M.O. since I’d moved locations. Admittedly, having the sun on my skin, even diffused through cloth, was wonderful. The calico, whose name was Puff, had moved out with me, content to curl up against my side or at my feet, purring like crazy. She picked up her head every time there was any kind of disturbance, noting them long before I even could. There was comfort in that, having a second pair of eyes.

Of course I paid a little more attention when the black and tan mis-matched ears perked up and her green eyes turned toward the edge of the clearing, watching. “Isra~~” sing-songed out from the trees, preceding the man that stepped around the brush. I could kind of see him from where I was, the sunlight casting a strawberry cant to his blonde hair. 

I wet my lips before exhaling quietly. Isra wasn’t here. She’d stepped out earlier, leaving me alone. Or, I’d assumed I was alone. He laughed, the sound a smooth baritone that was warm and rich and a Lynx chuffed right along with it. “‘Ey Judah. Where’d Isra get off to?” His voice matched the warmth of his laugh, I was a sucker for an attractive voice. Puff, Judah, Luna. How many other animals were roaming around here? Gods. 

Judah didn’t answer the man, of course, being a large forest cat. But, he’d spotted me under my colorful little canopy. He ambled over and looked down at me, looming over my little nest, a beat to shit violin case in his hands. His grey work pants were tailored to fit and he’d rolled the sleeves of his simple linen shirt up his forearm and fuck if his smile didn’t match the feeling in his voice. The guy was attractive; just my type with his square jaw, the splash of ginger stubble, broken nose and broad shoulders. He gave me a little wave and bowed his head, “Sorry, didn’t mean t’ interrupt your rest. ‘s Isra around? I need t’ pick up some rosin from her.” 

“She ducked out earlier. Didn’t say where she was going or when she’d be back. Your accent is–”

He cut me off, “Yeahh, yeah, ‘s uncultured. I know. ‘s a weird mix of lowborn an’ trader-merchant. Sorry if it’s too rough–” 

It was my turn to cut him off. I laughed, breathily. Best I could do with cracked ribs. “Nah. I like it. I’ll like it even better if you’re as rough as it is, you’ll have to show me sometime.” 

That made him laugh. Even beat to hell I still had it, whatever it was. Definitely helped my wounded pride a little. He crouched down with a wry smirk and pushed some of my copper hair out of my forehead, “‘m Meryn. Meryn Embergale. What happened t’ you? Look like y’got hit by a yak.” 

“Lynesse. And I dunno. Job gone bad, I guess. What’s rosin?” That was the second person to confirm how bad I looked, great. 

He shrugged a little and dropped out of his crouch to have a seat, crossing his legs. The fabric pulled tight against his muscles. Damn. “‘s a little cake of amber, y’ scratch it up with a knife or scissors an’ use it t’ prime a bow before you play.” A slow grin pulled at his lips as he leaned in a little, “D’you sing if someone plucks your strings?” 

So that was how it was going to be. He and I were total flirts, and neither of us were fine losing the game. I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was familiar, though. It was weird. My grin matched his as I shifted a little, a sharp twinge of pain shooting through my side quickly killing it. His brow pinched as concern washed over his features and he leaned back, “Ah, sorry. Whaddya do for work that wound you up like this?”

Easy enough question to answer. “Mercenary.” 

He laughed, “Me too! Kinda. Still, dangerous for a woman, innit? Not that you don’t look like you can handle it or anythin’.” The backtracking was quick with this one, my flat stare might’ve helped that along. “Isra’s takin’ care of you, then? She’s a good healer. Taught me a lot of tricks t’ help out with the hawkstriders my family raised when I was a kid. Does a lotta work with th’ lower class, too, ‘cause she doesn’t take payment with coin.”

Interesting. I hadn’t learned much about my host, other than that she had a better bedside manner with animals and children than with grown Elves. Maybe it was just me. I nodded a little, “Ah, yeah. Apparently I’d ruined some plants she’d wanted to pick or something. So you’ve known her a while, then?”

“Yeah! Couple hundred years’r so. We lost contact for a while, but I came lookin’ a while back an’ she was still out here. Has some of th’ best rosin an’ potions an’… Well, anythin’ else, really. She’s nice,” he grinned and drummed his fingers rhythmically against the outer shell of the case and then yelped as a pebble struck the tip of one of his ears. 

I jumped and immediately regretted the decision, my breath hitching in my chest as everything screamed at once. Isra drifted into the clearing like a storm, her silvery hair a nimbus and her black cloak dripping with raven feathers, “Meryn Josiah Embergale you leave her alone; Stop flirting.”

He looked over at her from where he was nursing his sore ear, the tender cartilage already a painful looking red, “Aw, Isra! She’s cute, though! Stars on her skin an’ everythin’! Besides, y’know how I am…”

I tried not to blush. I really did. It happened anyway. Still, it was in my nature to be completely contrary. “Why shouldn’t he flirt? Flirting won’t kill me. Flirt with me, Meryn. Right now.”

Meryn looked between me and the older woman, her expression flattening as she drew closer. Baubles clinked together from inside the void of her ravencloak, but she answered, “Because you need to rest.”

That wasn’t a good answer and Meryn’s brow furrowed, “A little company never hurt anyone, Isra, an’ normally you wouldn’t care. I’ve flirted with others here before. Why’s she different?”

Something was up. Isra looked more put out the more we pushed, but she answered again anyway, “She was nearly killed, my other patients weren’t. Her magic is having a hard time regenerating, and I can’t give her any of mine without a foundation of her own there to support it or to pull from. There’s only so much potions can do. What are you here for?”

He looked back at me, the confusion clear on his pretty face. Sunwell, was he a model or something? He could be. Definitely kissable but so familiar. Did he look like Andy? Kind of. His friendliness was similar. The witch bristled a little and he and I both caught that. Something wasn’t right here, there was a lot going unsaid and it was starting to get awkward. He leaned down, watching the elder elf the entire time, his hand carefully cupping my cheek like he was going to kiss me (not that I would’ve minded in the least) and she threw another pebble at him, “She is your sister you–”

Everything stopped at once. She went rigid as the declaration slipped out in her irritation, realizing she was going to have to explain herself. I cocked my head in confusion, Meryn just froze, staring at her.

One thing was certain -- I'd grown up as an only child.