Chapter Thirty-seven

Eskil groaned as he slowly lowered himself out of the saddle and onto the ground, his legs felt weak like they would collapse out from underneath him at any moment. His back was sore and his groin was throbbing from being tossed around in the saddle for several hours. Libelle was watching him from the ground, kneeling over a collection of twigs and dry grass. She was organizing larger pieces of lumber around and above the small kindling. Having found several stones before he had even managed to climb down from his horse, she was now making a circle around the fire.

He half expected her to light the fire with her flint, but instead, a spark flickered from her hand. She held a bundle of dried grass to it and waited until the material came to life with an orange blaze. The magic that the elven race possessed was rare, and only a handful of her kind were gifted with the abilities she possessed. She stuffed the kindling in with the rest and gently blew on it. Within minutes, the fire was fully lit and the wood crackled as the fire ate away at it. He sat down next to its warmth with his black wolf skins wrapped around his shoulders.

He was sore and exhausted, wondering how the she-elf had any energy left. Being a mortal was quickly proving to be harder than he ever expected. He crossed his legs underneath himself and crossed his arms over his abdomen when a loud rumble echoed from his stomach. Libelle looked at him in surprise as her brows raised and the light from the fire flickered in her eyes.

She stood up and silently returned to her horse's side, unlatching several leather straps before pulling the saddle and blanket from its back. She turned and did the same to his, setting both saddles on a nearby downed tree. She tied both horses to small trees with long leads, fetched one of the bags of oats and sat down by the horses' heads. Each horse nuzzled her hand as she scooped a small amount of oats into her palm, taking her time to feed them. She sat quiet and content for a long time, stroking their manes and tickling their lips as they ate from her hands.

She tightened the strap around the bag and set it down by their saddles, then rummaged through another bag and removed some of the contents. He stretched his tired limbs when she sat down on the opposite side of the fire from him. She was unwrapping something from a cloth that smelled somewhat good. Libelle looked at him, assuring herself that she had his attention before tossing a half loaf of bread and a portion of dried meat at him. He stared at it, then back at her, watching as she took a bite of tough meat and ground it up between her teeth. She sipped water from a small pouch and took a bite of bread. He watched her for a few moments longer, then slowly repeated her gestures and filled his stomach with what turned out to be a rather bland meal.

She rolled a saddle bag up and set it down, pulled her ghostly wolf pelt up and lay down on her side. Her knees were curled up tight against her chest, her thin fingers holding the furs close up around her chin.

"You should get some sleep," she said.

He sighed and leaned back on a nearby tree. "Yes, we should. However, I've never slept like this before. It's a bit...interesting."

"What is?"

"Seeing the world from this view." He stared up into the clear sky, lazily counting the rising stars. "It's been a long time since I just stared at the stars...a long time since I've just sat and done nothing."

Libelle looked like she was about to laugh. "What else is there to do at night besides look at the stars and think?"

"Sleep," he shrugged.

She shook her head and then was silent again, her expression growing calmer as the evening progressed. Her blue eyes looked silver and eerie as the flickering flame mirrored in her eyes. He watched her for several minutes and even tossed a few more logs onto the fire as he had seen her do. Slowly, her eyes closed, her breathing slowed, and she drifted to sleep.

"It would be easier to hate you, Libelle, if you didn't look like that," he sighed.