The morning bloomed through the window, casting an early light behind Duara’s eyelids. She tried to stave off the morning’s rise, but her father’s murmuring echoed from across the cabin, keeping her awake.
The night prior, they had made makeshift beds from their bags and clothes. The items were arranged specifically according to their comfort the softest clothes towards the head and the rest as even as possible. Over the past few weeks of traveling, they had both perfected the construction of their makeshift beds.
Duara stared at the ceiling, wondering if she could recall her bed in Haford. It must’ve been hard… or firm… was it more comfortable than this? The thought wandered off as dirt crumbled between her fingers. When was the last time she washed? Duara groaned when the sensation overwhelmed her thoughts. She gathered as many of her clothes she could fit into her bag and crept towards the door.
As the door creaked, her father turned to face her. His eyes were still closed but he seemed to cringe. Two words slipped out of his mouth, and Duara could only make out the second as he mouthed,* sorry.*
She didn’t spend much time thinking about his morning murmuring; she needed to be clean. She hoisted her bag on her back and grabbed a large pot, holding it between her right hip and arm.
The journey to Drethen yesterday had allowed her to survey the cabin’s surroundings. She remembered a fast stream that most likely fed into an estuary. Her pace quickened. She worried that she would miss the perfect time to dry her clothes in full sunlight.
Regardless of its current height,the sun’s rays filtered through the leaves and illuminated the clear paths. She decided on her route, keeping an eyeon a tree in the distance. It was the same size as the surrounding trees, but a few branches had grown weary and drooped with the weight they carried. The leaves had withered into a bright orange, capturing the color of the rising sun. The mental image of the leaves constantly reminded Duara of the brief moments she had to complete her chore.
A voice pierced through her anxiety. “Duara?” A familiar figure stood on the other side of the stream.
Ashke gave a quick wave from the other side of the steam. The stream itself was just a few inches of water inside a concave depression of dirt and exposed tree roots. Duara had to watch her footing as she moved closer to the water. The stream distanced her from Ashke by just a few meters. If she gave it a running start, she could maybe get to the other side.
Duara gathered her senses and responded. “What… what’re you doing here”
Ashke smiled, her eyes following the stream. “I always come here in the morning.” Her expression mellowed and she kneeled closer to the water, allowing her head to follow the direction of the flow. She was about to dip her hand in the water, but then she noticed the pot and bag that Duara carried.
“I’ve been negletful.” Duara confessed. She placed the pot near the water, and chuckled to break through her own embarrasment. “I need to wash… everything.”
Ashke turned towards the stream again, but her lips curled in an empathetic expression. “I’ve had those days.” She submerged her hand in the water, and stared in near silence as the stream washed over her hand. “But I think you’re just exhuasted from traveling. So it’s not the same. I’m just lazy.”
Ashke’s voice was flat as if she were rattling off facts. She had a completely different demeanor than when they first met. Duara started to fill her pot, but kept a concerned eye on Ashke, “no blacksmithing today?”
She began with a sniffle. “No, my uncle didn’t want me there today. He said it’d be slow, not much to do, so it’s best if I took a day off.”
“That’s good, I’m sure you’re tired from yesterday.”
“I am.” A sniffle again.
Duara tried to peek at the rest of Ashke’s expression, only catching a single tear. Ashke noticed her gaze, and she quickly took her hand out of the water and washed her face with it. When she spoke, her voice came out slightly course at first. “Your pot-” She cleared her throat. “Your pot is full.” Her head turned once she felt comfortable to reveal her face.
With Ashke’s full expression in view, Duara saw that the whites of her eyes were reddened, and she double blinked every other second, as if to combat the sensation.
After a moment, Ashke’s words caught up to Duara. “Oh.” She withdrew her pot and hauled it back to her hip.
Duara opened her mouth to try to comfort her friend in some way, but she didn’t know how to start – or bring it up.
“You look different without your hood.” Ashke interrupted her thoughts. “I mean I’ve only seen you once, but it took me some time to recognize you when you came out of the woods.” Her voice recovered some strength; it now had a semblence of her original tenor.
Duara instinctively covered her ear with her free hand. “The clipping makes the growth look disgusting.”
“Did you always keep your hood up in Haford?”
“Yeah… it’s an old habit before getting my tradechoice. Most of the younger Aelorians do, but y’know, it’s still easy to tell us apart from the Sylweans. Because, well, they don’t wear hoods.”
“Tradechoice?” Ashke’s seemingly sullen behaviour turned into curiosity. She kept her squat, but turned her focus to Duara.
Duara nodded. “It’s this stupid tradition for Aelorians. All of us get tested for abilities when we’re just kids. Then a trade is chosen for you.”
Ashke cocked her head as she asked. “Were you good at anything? What did they choose for you?”
Duara dug the balls of her feet into the wet ground for a few seconds before grumbling a response. “…Enchanter.”
“Oh.” Ashke sank back into her squat. “Did you want to do that?”
Duara shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that I didn’t want to be told what to be for the rest of my life.”
“I’m sorry. It sounds awful for Aelorians over there. If I were there, I’d probably be the opposite.” Her arms folded over her knees and she dug her nose into them. “They wouldn’t be able to find a job I could do right.”
Duara placed her pot on the ground and put a foot into the water.
“What’re you doing?!”
Instead of responding, Duara took a few more steps until she was beside her sullen friend.
“Your boots are all muddy now!” Ashke yelped.
Duara chuckled. “Don’t worry about me. They need to be washed anyways.” She didn’t consider how cold the water would be, and tried to hide a wince.
“I saw that! You scrunched your face!”
Duara shrugged off the accusation and sat down next to Ashke, mimicking her sullen squat. “Ashke…” It took some time for Duara to figure out how to voice her thoughts. She let the pause linger as the flowing water filled in the silence. “I-”
“He lied.” Ashke stopped Duara. Her gaze turned to the water and her head slowly sank into her arms as if it were drowning. “He lied about it being slow.” Now that Duara was beside her, her voice became quiet, almost a whisper next to the water. “But it’s never slow. I’ve watched my uncle work nearly every day. It’s never slow. Even if no orders come up, he needs to fill back orders. It’s never slow.” Her voice was feather-soft, and it trembled as she tried to keep going. “It’s never slow…” She said once more. This time, her words were so faintthat they were swallowed by the sound of the moving water. “He thinks I’m a fragile piece of glass. No maybe like a withered flower, barely able to keep itself up. Just like I was at every other job they had me apprentice for. They lied to make me feel better, but it makes me feel worse.” Her pause broke her strength, and she let out a soft whimper. She continued, “They can’t even trust me with the truth.”
The whimper grew into a soft sob.
“I’m sorry.” Duara muttered.
“It’s not your-”
“I lied too.” Duara continued. “I know it’s not the same, but you—you deserve better. I didn’t tell you that I was Aelorian when I met you.”
Ashke fixed her slumped posture to reply. “That’s nothing. I don’t care about that.”
This time, Duara slumped instead, leaning her cheek onto her forearms while keeping her focus on Ashke. “But it kind of is the same. At first, I couldn’t trust you to know my truth. I’m just so used to lying, I think. I mean, we lie everyday, us Aelorians. We tell ourselves that everything is okay, and we try to continue like we didn’t live through yesterday. But now, I’m here, and the most genuine person I’ve ever met gives me hours of work in the form of nails, and all I can return is a lie. Can you forgive me, Ashke?”
Ashke sniffled away the left over sadness. “I was never upset at that.” She let out a half hearted giggle.Duara didn’t shift in her position, still waiting for the confirmation. “Okay!” She smiled. “I forgive you. Just call me Ash. Ashke sounds weird from people my age. Only proper adults call me that.”
With a sly smile, Duara apologized again. “Sorry… Ash”
Her friend giggled and jabbed her shoulder. “Enough with the sorry.”
“S-” Duara almost repeated the apology. “Alright, then.” She smiled. “So what’s the next endeavour for the great Ash?”
Ash tapped her chin. Her lips curled, a mischievous expression forming on her face. “What if I apprenticed with you?”
“Me?” Duara stood.
“I mean, you’re probably the best akibon user I know. What if learned everything you know?”
“I’m really not great at that stuff. Plus, I don’t even know if I want to use akibon anymore.” Duara wasn’t prepared to deal with Ash’s disappointment, noticing that Ash tried to hide her initial expression by nodding quickly.
“That’s alright!” Ash’s voice peaked. “I wouldn’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.” She stood as well. “Thanks, you really cheered me up.” She clenched her hands into fists as a display of confidence. “I’ll keep trying my best.” She turned to head back to Drethen. “I’ll see you later, right? At the Kyron Temple.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Duara confirmed. However, Ash had already walked a distance away.
Duara bit her lip. She didn’t want to be known as the gifted akibon wielder anymore. If she could forget everything she knew about akibon, she would in a heartbeat.
Her soaked feet started to tingle from the cold, and her body shivered at the wet reminder.
She needed to wash her clothes. Dirt stains from her journey caked most of what she had packed. Underneath the dirt, years of more painful stains remained.
At least this time, she hadn’t lied. She hadn’t cowered like she always had before.
Sunlight glimmered on the stream, offering a teasing glimpse of warmth, but not enough for any sense of comfort.
Unfortunately, this made her panic. Quickly, she started to wash the dirt from her clothes. It was almost too late to get them fully dry.
Without looking, she grabbed the top item from her bag. A tunic. It was the one she had worn when she left Haford. After a few wears without a wash, the tunic was many different shades of brown.
She scrubbed, but the dirt barely came off. After hours washing the clothes in the stream, her hands became as cold as her feet. At the pace she was scrubbing, she’d be able to make a fire with a stick and kindling to keep herself warm.
Even after repeated washings, the tunic still retained its muddy hue. Exasperated, she took a deep breath in. When she finally released it, the recent image of Ash - every second of Ash’s smile, her reserved giggle, and the cheer in her voice - eased into her mind and began to temper the chill of the water.
With that in mind, she continued taking in the same breath, gazing at the surrounding area, hoping she’d be able to recall each piece of the memory.
Despite her drenched shoes and clothes, the chilled water, and the timid sun… she beamed.
The dirt still hadn’t washed away, and she surrendered her battle against it. It was a part of the tunic now, and soon, the dirt here would cover up the same stains.
When she finally packed her clothes back into her bag, she realized that she was even more drenched than before.
But somehow, she wasn’t cold.