This is a very short piece of Elden and Misham's story Destiny's Refuge. I'm hopeful that the next part will be done really soon.
Characters: Elden/Misham
Series: Another Life
POV: Elden/Misham
The rawhide bit into Elden’s fingers as he pulled it tight. Years had passed since he’d last worn the snowshoes but he knew he’d need them on the trek. He wanted to make sure the tension in the rawhide was adequate to distribute his weight.
It had been over a week since the warriors had come asking their favor. Since that time, there had been a lot of discussions. Not whether they’d go or not, a plea for help could never be ignored. No, the discussion had been with the Elders of the village. Planning the best route to avoid the worst of the weather. Gathering herbs and healing tonics and packing for efficiency. Tarvos was a hard two days hike in good weather. However, the seasons were changing and winter was fast descending. Tarvos always had a blanket of snow, winter just determined how much.
A noise from the main room alerted Elden that his fathers were awake. The sun was still hours from rising. They would see the golden orb after they’d walked several miles. The full moon would start them on their way.
He’d just secured the snowshoes to one of his satchels when he heard a knock at his door. Before he could stand up, the door opened and Rastus looked in.
“Are you ready?” At Elden’s nod, he walked into the room. “Did you get any sleep?”
Elden wished he could reassure his father, but he could never lie to him. “A little, pateras. But do not worry. I’m sure tonight I will make up for it.” He turned to pick up his bags.
Before he could lay his hands on the bags, Rastus stepped in front of him and grabbed them. “Let me gather these. Sander is packing the sled. Put on your heaviest cloak and wrap up in the woolen headscarf. The air is cold.”
Slipping on his coat, Elden buckled the fastenings. He’d thought he had woken up before his fathers, but if they were already loading the sled, they had to have been up hours earlier than him. Taking a last look around his room, he was satisfied he’d packed everything he might need.
As he stepped outside, he inhaled deeply. The scent of chimney smoke danced with that of the tall pines. The pale light of the moon illuminated his fathers standing waiting for him. Pride and love swelled inside him for the two men. Everyone on Gliese knew that to live to the fullest you helped others. But his fathers were willing to hike for two days to help one they didn’t know. Elden knew he was blessed to have them as his fathers. The three of them set off on their journey.
***Tarvos****
Dizziness washed over Misham as he reached for the shirt. He stood still, his knuckles whitened as he gripped the fabric. Before the dizziness left him, a gentle hand pried his fingers from the shirt.
“Let me pack. You save your strength for the trek to come. Go to your father. He’s made a hearty broth for you.” Misham’s mother, Keena, brushed her hand over his hair.
Her tone was soft and caring, but Misham felt her grief flow through his body. He would cry for her pain, and his own, but his tears had been spent in the past days. He’d felt his mother’s grief his whole life. And that of his father’s. They were of two different entities who’d fallen in love. His mother a warrior from Tarvos. His father a Historian from the ancient village.
They hadn’t known that the separate races would combine to create a hybrid. When warriors found their mates a link formed, a link that allowed each to feel all that their loved one felt. Keena had formed that link with Timon, a Historian, but couldn’t see the visions that he had. All Historians were blessed with visions that told of what was, what is, and what would be. What the two had brought forth in their child was an empath.
Keena and Timon had celebrated the birth of their baby boy. They found joy when he laughed with them. Worried when tears would stream down his face for no apparent reason. But the reasons soon became evident. Their beautiful dark-eyed child was experiencing the emotions of anyone around him. Of any living thing near him. Even the soil they stood on held the emotions of those that had walked before and it shared them, unwittingly, with Misham.
“Misham. Go. Eat.”
His mother’s soft voice broke him from his thoughts. “Yes, mama.” His legs wobbled as he left his bedroom. In the kitchen area, Misham grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself. The heat of his father’s anger engulfed him from the inside out.
Misham smile sadly. He knew the flame that kept his father’s anger simmering was of love and caring. And most of all worry.
“I’ll be fine, pateras,” Misham reassured his father.
“Of course you will.” Timon’s deep voice reverberated through the room. “But you must eat. You’ve lost too much weight.”
Misham slipped into the chair. The broth teased his appetite. He brought a spoonful to his mouth. The liquid was full of the flavor of vegetables and meat. He eyed the brown bread that sat on the cutting board but decided against it. His parents had learned to mute their emotions over the years, but they’d never had to say goodbye to him before. He didn’t want to lose the contents of his stomach when he met the men who had come to take him south.
Before he could take another bite a heavy knock on the door brought his mother rushing to be by his side. Misham clenched his jaws. Her nervousness and grief rolled through his body. The combined emotions felt like lightning through his veins.
“You will be fine.” His father commanded and walked to the door.
On to chapter 3
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