Elyria woke to light coming through the square window across the room. She shook her head. It felt fuzzy and her mouth felt like fur covered her tongue. She sat up, wondering how the window became uncovered. She looked around and saw the hide folded on one of the stools. One and Two were not in her hut. Fendor wasn’t there either.
She looked out of the window. The sun stood passed its zenith. She never slept the morning away. Her head ached. Her body felt heavy and slow. Her thoughts came hazy, incoherent, disjointed. She eased herself out of bed.
If she didn’t know better, she would believe Fendor had never been there. His cloak did not occupy the peg near the door; his pack and bedroll vanished. She lifted the pillow on her bed. His dagger was gone. Her knife lay there where she left it. She knelt down, raised the cot and looked underneath. His sword was gone. She plopped down on the fur covered floor by her bed.
She felt like that time she drank too much mead. Her head ached. She rested it in the palms of her hands. She massaged her temples. She rubbed her forehead.
"Spiced wine." Talking out loud hurt her head. She would make some willow bark tea. That would get rid of her headache.
She busied herself for some minutes, adding wood to the coals, filling her water pot, and crumbling bark into a mug. While she waited for the water to boil, she used her fingers to detangle her hair and braid it in one long dark rope down her back. She tied the end with a wool thread. She dropped a smock over her shift, wrapped a belt around her waist and stuck her knife in it. She tied her shoes to her feet and checked on the water. It bubbled in the pot. She ladled some of the hot liquid into her mug and let the tea steep.
She opened the door to her hut to let in some fresh air. The house felt stuffy and dank after a week of rain. She took her floor coverings outside and laid them over some bushes to air out. She swept the small floor with her twig broom and shook out her pelt blankets. All of this activity made her head pound. She took her mug outside and sat on the boulder by the door. She sipped her tea, straining the bark through her teeth and chewing some to get the strongest effect.
The sun shone bright. It warmed her, cheered her and helped revive her. She felt much better. She tossed the remains of the willow bark off into the woods, went back inside to the well, filled the mug, swished the water around and tossed that outside. She refilled the cup and drank the fresh water. After a second cup, she felt livelier.
She was ready to find out what was going on. Fendor said he was here for the caves. That must be where he had gone. First, check the shed and then off to find which of the caverns he managed to find. Second, make him pay for getting her drunk.
3 comments:
Do you have the entire storyline all plotted out, scene by scene, or is it more of getting from A-B? through random exploring?
I've never written a book before.
-cracks whip-
This is fascinating. Can't wait to see how you handle an action scene like fighting. But this is interesting because I read the last chapter you have written and notice that in both this scene and that one, she cannot handle liquor or alcohol. It knocks her out quickly and leaves her with a bad hangover. That's a particular weakness in her that you kept consistent. It could be a factor that she has to deal with when the story nears the climax.
Tom: I might not be consistent in real life but at least here I am; D
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