Post by kitearadarkblade on May 26, 2007 21:19:56 GMT -5
Teara & Shar
Fringes of Hrot
Fringes of Hrot
Teara gave Shar a light shove to propel him into the small three-room cottage that they shared on the fringes of Hrot. The youth stumbled across the threshold, reaching to brace himself against a chair in the sitting room. Teara followed him in with a slight shake of her head and sighed. A flurry of snow swept into the cottage behind her before she pushed the heavy door shut. Shar blushed as he glanced back at his mother with a sheepish chuckle. “Oops?” The woman snorted in response, moving past him to claim one of the chairs. Shar coughed lightly and straightened, before circling his own and sinking into it.
“Be glad when you grow out of this falling over everything in sight stage,” she grumbled, watching him. “Make your own sword work smoother, at least.” The youth ducked his head slightly. “Oh, stop that!” she growled in exasperation. At times, she wondered if he would ever be ready to stand on his own. At his age, Teara was already beginning to carve out her own hunting territory with her first mate. That particular thought sent a twinge of pain through her.
Shar looked to his mother, recognizing the familiar unfocused look that meant her thoughts were elsewhere. He debated trying to slip away to his room. Perhaps she wouldn’t notice until he was already out of sight. Her emerald eyes focused and she shook her head slightly, blowing a stray strand of auburn hair from her face. Too late…
Teara looked Shar over appraisingly, before nodding toward the front door. “Go get the tub to clean up. If people can smell you a mile away, there’s no need for sword play and stealth. They’ll simply avoid you.”
“Yes ma’am,” the youth replied, levering himself up from his chair. He quickly made his way to the door and tried to slip out before the wind could send more snow into the room, hearing Teara rise as well. Outside, they had a well and small bathing tub. He began wrestling the tub to the door and struggled to get it into the cottage. By the time he had managed to do so, the sitting room was empty. Shar frowned slightly, before moving back to the door, to begin fetching water to heat.
Teara could hear Shar gathering and heating water as she made her way to the trunk at the foot of her bed. Briskly, she opened it and pulled out clean clothing. She placed them on the foot of the bed, before moving to sit on its edge. One of her hands made its way to the soft, worn tiger skin lying across the pillow. Teara stroked the fur absently, toward the door without really seeing it. She often thought it was a mixed blessing and curse that Shar resembled his father so little and her second mate so much. She didn’t think she could love the boy as much as much as he did. She may have come to think of the boy as a poor trade for her mate and warning against the dangers her kind must face.
Clenching her hand, Teara picked up the fur and brought it to her face, burrowing her face into it gently. Even after all the years, she sometimes fancied that she could smell his scent on it. Memory carried it to her nose more surely than a true scent could have. He had been everything she could have wanted. Ferocity and passion. Teara closed her eyes, feeling a familiar and hated sting. Her throat clenched painfully as she clenched her teeth so tightly that she feared they may crack. Clamping down on sorrow that she had hoped buried, Teara forced herself to breath slowly.
Once she had composed herself, Teara replaced the soft fur, gathered her clothing and returned to the sitting room. Shar had already finished his own bathing and refilled the tub. She looked to the filled tub, steam rising from the water, and smiled at the boy’s thoughtfulness. He had already left for his room, as well. Shedding her clothes, she moved to climb into the tub and sank into it with a soft sigh. She needed this.