I stood in front of her baffled, and then I remembered screaming. More embarrassment. So, I screamed. I was covered in bark.
Her eyebrows turned up as she looked at Chevelle again, who was mirroring her concerned expression. “Maybe it’s time to allow her a few small lessons.”
Magic? It took a moment to realize I had wished they couldn’t see me, that I had unwittingly camouflaged myself. This was going to take a while to get used to.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Dinner?”
She grinned at him as she reached an arm behind her, the cloak moving aside, and drew a bow from her back. “I’ll get my own, thanks.”
He nodded once toward her as a knowing smile stretched across his face. They turned in opposite directions, each disappearing behind the trees and rocks of the mountain, leaving me standing alone and confused. I sat back on the tree and shook my head as I stared down at the bark. Chevelle returned as quickly as he had left with two small furry animals slung over his back. As his gaze reached the log that lay a few feet in front of me, it burst into an orange flame. While he approached, a couple of small branches formed a spit over the fire and he skinned and attached the animals so smoothly I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened.
As I watched him today, I realized he was changing. Or, more likely, he was always so and I had just not seen it. He wasn’t his formal, slower self, he was more relaxed and apparently magic was intertwined into his routines. He didn’t do much with his hands. I would have spent hours building the spit and skinning an animal. Actually, I had never done either so it probably would have taken even longer.
Then an old question came back to me. “How do you hunt?”
“Hmm?” I had pulled him from his task.
“You don’t have a bow.”
He hesitated, as if deciding what to tell me. “I use magic, Frey.” He looked like he was waiting for me to be upset.
“Oh.” I contemplated that. “I thought maybe you had a knife.”
He smirked. “Yes, well, that would have been easy enough.” He shook his head slightly and I wondered if he meant it would have been easy enough to tell me he used a knife or easy enough to actually use a knife.
I thought of Junnie. “And Junnie prefers to hunt… for sport?”
He had that look again and I wondered why he would be so hesitant. Because I was dangerous? A practitioner of Dark Magic? “No… some… some believe… prefer the meat not to be tainted by magic. They feel it is more… pure.” He pronounced tainted as if it were a ridiculous quote.
“Is it? Tainted I mean?”
“I have lived on it for…” He caught himself midsentence and started over. “Well, it doesn’t seem to be but to each his own.”
He turned back to the fire.
Junnie came back into view carrying a large animal over her shoulders. She dropped it down on a rock near the fire and whispered a short thanks before she removed the arrow and began to skin the animal. I glanced at the sizeable carcass and then again at her. “I’ll be traveling fast and far and don’t intend to stop and hunt. I will pack the extra with me.” I managed a sheepish smile. It seemed like I needed things explained a lot lately.
“Where will you go?” I asked.
“Back to the village.”
“To council?” I almost whispered. “They sent you to find me?”
Her eyes flicked to Chevelle and back. “No, Freya. They will not know I saw you.”
“They are looking for me?” Terror was creeping in.
“No. They will not risk it.”
“They are afraid,” Chevelle said in a low monotone from his spot at the fire. Junnie shot him a warning glance.
“Afraid?” I asked doubtful. “Afraid of what?”
“The mountains.” Junnie’s answer was curt. She returned to her work on the gazelle.