by Beth Reason
Chapter 13
Mirvena sat across from the former hunter and assessed her quietly for quite awhile. She always told her people that she was meditating when she did it, but really, Mirvena was just being nosy and rude. She'd take the time to gawk and study while they believed she was praying. It was one of her best kept secrets, and something she'd giggle over when she was alone. It was amazing what she could get away with under the guise of meditation.
Mirvena had to give Scarab credit. The woman sat stiff and straight and proud under Mirvena's intense scrutiny. Her face was blank and the only movements she made were infrequent blinking and the steady, slow breaths she took. She sat with her legs crossed and her hands on her knees, the classic pose of Celtist meditation. It was Mirvena's first real interaction with the girl and she wasn't disappointed. This former hunter was a true mystery, and Mirvena looked forward to unlocking her secrets. The winter was already long and boring and it would certainly spice things up a bit.
"You should have requested a session with me earlier," Mirvena said nearly an hour later when she decided she had tested the girl's patience enough.
"I have been busy," Scarab said carefully. She hesitated only a second before adding, "Grandmother."
Mirvena's eyes sparkled. So the girl was a Celtist! Major Krupkie had sent a report guessing that it might be true. Mirvena's amusement faded as her mind considered the implications of the new knowledge. "I believe you do the hunting for your man, do you not?"
Scarab knew what the old woman was doing. Her own grandmother had been quiet similar to Mirvena, and even though it made her squirm inside with a deep, long standing discomfort, Scarab had to appreciate the familiarity. "I do," she answered simply.
"It is usually the husband that feeds his wife."
Scarab's jaw twitched for a second and her eyes flashed in defiance. "He feeds me. I hunt it. He cooks. Is it not just as important to cook to feed your family?"
Mirvena liked the girl. If she wasn't the priestess, if there weren't so many lives riding on her shoulders, then she would do as she wished and clap and cheer for the woman's cleverness. She would much rather meet with this Scarab in her home over tea instead of in the formal temple with the cloying scent of cleansing incense thickening the air. Mirvena sighed inside, once again hating the confines of leadership. She had to make certain this former hunter was not a threat to her community, and no matter how much she liked the girl, she still wasn't sure. It had been two full months and the most she had seen of the woman was a few quick glances when Scarab would guard Tenet while he traded in town. It made her people nervous that Scarab never spoke and always stared them down when they approached her man. It was up to Mirvena to settle their minds, and that began with a formal interview.
"I will concede that cooking is important," Mirvena said diplomatically. "However, some of the wives feel uncomfortable that you hunt alongside their husbands."
Scarab took a second to calm the flash of anger. "I have never needed to hunt by anyone's side. I can handle game on my own. I do not even hunt on Ogden land. Their fears are unwarranted."
She was proud, this bounty hunter. "You trade with Wren McKay," Mirvena pointed out.
Scarab nodded. "I do. I'd trade with his wife if she would prefer. However, since the woman refuses to even look in my direction, I do not see that happening."
"I see," Mirvena said simply before falling into another long silence.
Scarab was calm on the outside only because of years of such interviews as a child. She knew what to do. She knew to sit in the meditation pose and wait. She knew that the Grandmother would lead the procedure, and that any breech in protocol would be seen as not only an insult, but an action deserving a punishment. She forced her back to remain straight, her hands to remain relaxed on her knees, and her features to remain calm. However, inside, she churned with anger, apprehension, defensiveness, and fear. This meeting was important. Not to her, but to Tenet. The village was so close to accepting him, and that would never fully happen if she didn't seek approval for herself. She hated, absolutely hated the knowledge that she would have to measure up to anyone else's standards. But she would do just about anything for Tenet.
"You were a bounty hunter," Mirvena said simply.
"Yes." There was no use lying. Though Scarab doubted there was any real magic in the world, she had to admit that Celtist priestesses had an uncanny ability to spot a lie. Though she and Tenet had kept up the story of being failed tomato farmers to the community at large, she knew she was safe telling Mirvena about their past. Mirvena would keep any confidence simply because that was demanded of a priestess.
"Have you killed?"
Scarab wasn't exactly shocked by the question, but she was a little taken aback by the directness. She admired that. "Yes."
"I see." Mirvena knew it. There was a look in a person's eye after they took a life that never went away. And yet, she didn't see the eyes of a killer. She saw the eyes of a hard woman who lived a hard life and made it through however she had to. Mirvena knew the knowledge that human blood was on Scarab's hands wouldn't set well with the women of the village. They already believed Scarab to be more of a warrior than a woman, more of a man than wife. Mirvena doubted it mattered much to this hunter, but it did matter to the overall happiness and harmony of the septad.
Scarab waited to see if Mirvena was going to ask for an explanation. She was well within her rights to, and Scarab wouldn't be offended. Though she hadn't taken many lives, she knew the ones she did take were due to unavoidable circumstances and held no guilt.
"Have you ever enjoyed it?"
"Killing?" Scarab's face almost cracked and her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Of course not."
The girl was speaking the truth, something Mirvena knew anyway. Tenet was a good man. An innocent and often bumbling, one, true. But a good man. A good person. A kind and giving human being. He would not be able to form a deep attachment to someone who was not also a good person. Mirvena just wanted to judge the girl's reaction when she asked. The former bounty hunter passed another critical test. Mirvena made a mental check mark on the list in her head. On to the next issue.
"The woman of the village do not like you."
Scarab nodded. "I know."
"And you make my warriors nervous."
Scarab couldn't help the flicker of pride that flamed inside. Did she really? She'd have to tell Tenet that he was right, that she wasn't losing her edge. "They have nothing to fear from me, Grandmother."
Mirvena pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the girl's pride. She should chastise her. She should point out all the ways that pride was bad, then make the girl meditate on it for hours until she could explain the harm a prideful existence could to do a community. But the girl wasn't one of hers. She wasn't really in the septad, was she? "You call me Grandmother."
Scarab opened her mouth, then closed it again, for the first time unsure. She gave a quick nod. "Yes."
Mirvena stroked her chin. "It is not normal to come across a Southlander that is familiar with our ways."
"I expect not," Scarab said carefully. She knew what was coming and saw no way to avoid it. She swallowed hard and waited, letting her hands clench on her knees.
Mirvena noticed the change in the girl's eyes and saw her fingers digging into her legs. Though her face was still schooled, the little signs of fear were unmistakable. Mirvena had a fleeting thought to let the conversation end. The woman was clearly not a threat to the community and she could report that to the septad with a clear conscience. But Mirvena just couldn't let it pass. She had to know. She'd ask, then decide what to do with the knowledge, if anything.
"In which septad were you raised?"
Scarab swallowed hard. She wanted to get up and leave. She wanted to tell the meddling old biddy where to shove her questions and storm out of there. She would tell Tenet they had to move on and come first thaw, they'd head out for a better life in a place where people left them alone.
But Tenet didn't want to be alone. Tenet needed people. And Scarab had to admit, if only to herself, that their little cottage offered her a sense of belonging that she had never known, not even as a child. She couldn't screw this up for him. She couldn't screw it up for them. She took a deep breath.
"I was a member of the Clough septad."
Mirvena couldn't help her eyes from widening. "Yes, I know that area. On the base of Mt. Macklemore, correct?" At Scarab's nod, Mirvena felt a deep sadness for the girl settle inside. The Clough septad no longer existed. They caved to the requests of the government and turned many of their people out. She had two former members in Ogden, ones she had offered shelter when their lives fell apart. The Clough septad was once a powerful force in the Celtist community. They were orthodox. and many other septads held them up as the standard, the pinnacle of all things that the Celtist religion represented.
However, Mirvena had heard the stories from the survivors. Even before a new priestess became corrupt, the Cloughs were hard and unforgiving, and they used their orthodox label as a shield for all the atrocities they committed in the name of "the old ways." Many of the other forward-thinking septad priestesses were just as happy as Mirvena was when the Cloughs fell. While it was a tragedy that their people had to suffer for it, the leaders had grown weak and greedy, two traits in direct opposition to the tenets, ethics, and morals of a true septad, and painted a horrible picture to the rest of the world of what it was to be a Celtist. They were a blight Mirvena was not sorry to see gone.
Mirvena let the thoughts roll through her until her stomach calmed. The poor girl. No wonder she was cold. No wonder she was leery. No wonder her eyes were constantly filled with doubt and skepticism and mistrust. The Celtists of her past earned every bit of that fear and hatred from the girl. That and so much more. Mirvena had to tread lightly. She did not want to be seen in the same light as those from Scarab's past. She did not want her own peaceful Ogden to continue to torture the woman with the thought that one day, they would become that which she feared most.
"We are a progressive septad," Mirvena said carefully. "We are not orthodox in all the ways that count." She saw interest in Scarab's eyes, in spite of the fact that her nails were still biting into her knees. "We do not make sacrifices to the Mother. We do not practice mandatory prayer. We do require our children to attend our own schoolings, and that most certainly does include the religious teachings, but we have also embraced sciences and technologies, as you have no doubt noticed."
Scarab wondered at the change. Why was Mirvena suddenly telling her these things? It was almost as if the woman wanted Scarab to accept them, instead of the other way around. "I have noticed these things," Scarab said when Mirvena seemed to be waiting for an answer.
"We protect our own. We treasure every life. We honor the power and beauty of the breath of the Mother that is breathed into each and every member of our community and we do everything in our power to make sure that life force continues." Aha, Mirvena thought. The hunter's eyes grew shiny with tears. She hit the mark. She knew she shouldn't press, but just couldn't help herself. "Is there any family of yours left?"
Scarab pressed her lips together to stop the trembling. It felt as if Mirvena had looked deep inside and pulled out the one part of her that would make her crack. She would not crack. She would not break. "No," she said firmly.
"But there was," Mirvena pressed.
"Yes," Scarab confirmed.
"Tell me of them."
Scarab set her jaw. "No."
Mirvena was half expecting it. She was prying deep, after all, and she knew her questions were not only unwelcome but far too personal. Still, the denial irked her. She was the priestess. She was not used to people telling her no. "No?" she asked with the quirk of an eyebrow.
"No. You may not have those memories. They are mine and mine alone."
There was the sudden flash of bounty hunter, the side that terrified her people. Mirvena had never really seen it for herself before, and finally understood the power this small woman in front of her could radiate. Had she stayed in a Celtist village, had she joined some other septad, perhaps, she would no doubt have risen to priestess status. And now, Mirvena knew where that power came from, where the cold hunter that Scarab projected was born and lived. Mirvena knew now that it was defense mechanism, a way for this lost, scared girl to make sure all that pain never happened to her again.
"I will let you have your memories," Mirvena surprised Scarab by saying. "You have earned them. However, the day will come when you will have a need to get rid of them. The day will come when you are ready to leave those souls of the past that haunt you behind and move on. Should you need to leave them in someone's care, I will gladly bear that burden."
It was a generous offer. It let Scarab know she was welcome in Ogden, at least by the priestess if no one else. But her emotions were still raw. The meeting had been a source of roiling terror inside all week and not even Tenet's calming words had been enough to ease her trepidation. And then the woman brought up the past, the very thing that Scarab was determined not to share...it was too much. While the offer was generous, there was no way Scarab would take Mirvena up on it.
Mirvena watched Scarab's eyes and knew the girl wasn't going to let her get that close. It was a shame, but Mirvena didn't feel it was hopeless. Perhaps the years to come would lower the walls. She really hoped so. She would very much like the opportunity to really get to know this interesting young woman. "The offer shall stand if you feel you should like to take me up on it," Mirvena said, then nodded. "That will do."
Scarab knew she was being dismissed. She stood and bowed, as was expected, and turned to leave.
"A word of advice," Mirvena said before Scarab left. "The women, they are a difficult but kind lot. You would do well to..." Mirvena was going to say "make friends", but thought better of it. She could not see the women of her septad forming a friendship with Scarab. As cruel as that sounded, she firmly believed it wasn't even what Scarab wanted, either. "You would do well to stop scaring them."
Scarab's mouth twitched. "I will do my best, Grandmother."
Mirvena's eyes twinkled and she nodded, then she motioned to the door, holding her laughter in check until Scarab was gone from the temple. She sighed heavily and folded her hands to mediate on all she had learned.
Scarab leaned against the closed door and shut her eyes, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it slowly. The meeting went about as she expected, though Mirvena was far more of a gossip than the other priestesses she'd known in her life. She pried, and Scarab hadn't expected that. Still, there was humor in her eyes, and she made the huge offer of carrying Scarab's burden for her. Scarab could go to Tenet and let him know that they were accepted without having to lie, and that made her feel almost happy.
She pushed off the door and turned to head down the long, quiet hallway of the temple. As she went, she took a minute to study the painted lore of the septad that decorated the hall from floor to ceiling. She was too tense on her way in to pay it much attention, but she walked slowly and looked at the large, garish figures that spelled out the history of Ogden. It was familiar, and yet there were glaring differences. The Clough septad were orthodox and only used pigments from the earth in their art work that had been unaltered. Flowers were crushed, but not mixed together. Animals were bled, their life force used as paint, but not protected and allowed to discolor over time. There was never any use of metals, for the orthodox Celtists didn't mine or smelt, and things like glass and plastics were forbidden. They also tended to try and represent things as they really were, to make a human face look as close to real as possible within the confines of their natural materials.
The Ogden septad was not as restricted. Their paints included purples and blues that could not be found in the natural world, and the large painted panels were rimmed with the metals they proudly forged. The people in the pictures were represented differently as well. A face was a simple circle with sha
dow, a body represented by a large, swooping, graceful twist of interwoven lines. It told a story through artistic rendering more than historical chronicle, and that intrigued Scarab. These were certainly different Celtists than she had known. She stopped in front of a panel that showed the Mother, the earth Herself, with the triangle of stations branching out below.
The Mother was at the top. The Grandmother and the Grandfather were in the corners, the three major stations of the triangle. They were the three foundations for the Celtist religion, and all the castes fit between them. Between the Mother and Grandmother were Nurturers, generally the women of the septad that would bear and raise the children, though Scarab knew that sometimes there was a gentle man who was much more valuable to the septad helping with the children than wielding a bow and arrow. Healers also fell into this category for the most part, but every septad needed Warrior Healers as well for the battlefield. Between the Mother and the Grandfather were the Warriors, generally the men that would protect the septad and hunt. Between the Grandfather and the Grandmother, on the bottom of the triangle as the third important block in the base, there were the Farmers, those who would grow food and harvest it to nourish the septad. And in the very center, protected and enhanced by all the others was the Historian, who would keep and share the knowledge that was gathered by all the stations of the septad. Every member of a septad fit into one of the groups. Everyone had a place.
Scarab studied the beautiful triangle and wondered where she fit in. Tenet could be a Nurturer. Or a Warrior Healer, though she knew he wouldn't like that life. He was definitely a Farmer, too. She sighed. He could fit in almost anywhere he chose. Where was she?
"What does this mean?" Tenet asked.
Scarab hadn't heard him come up behind her. "Are you done with the Historian?"
Tenet smiled at her tone. He knew Scarab couldn't stand Gwyn. Gwyn was perky and bubbly and talked incessantly, almost even too much for Tenet to handle some days. Scarab couldn't stand the woman and was annoyed to no end that Tenet agreed to share his stories for her chronicles, even though she knew he must. "For today," Tenet told her, standing close but making sure not to touch. Scarab hated it when Tenet showed affection in public and he tried his best to honor that.
"Meddling, prying little..." Scarab began to mutter.
Tenet chuckled and put his hand on her back. "Historian who has a job to do and I'm just helping her do it," he finished for her. Scarab stopped her grumbling and took a deep breath. When Tenet was sure she was done talking like that, at least in the temple, he dropped his hand and motioned to the painting again. "So, does it mean anything? Or is it just really pretty art."
"It is pretty, isn't it?" The golds and bronzes and purples with their abstract shapes and broad, sweeping strokes evoked emotion. They were far more powerful than the picture stories she knew as a child. The ones in the Clough septad always made her feel sad, or guilty. "This hall tells the story of this septad," Scarab explained. "It doesn't just mean anything, it means everything."
Slowly Scarab was opening up to him. He knew more about her than probably anyone else ever had, or ever would. She trusted him and little by little, she let him in. When they were alone, she never hesitated to answer his questions about life in a Celtist community. Though direct information about her own family was still largely taboo, her answers came more and more easily when he kept his questions general.
Scarab explained the triangle, the very foundation of the Celtist religion. As he always did, Tenet tried very hard not to pepper her with questions while she spoke. And as he always did, Tenet failed. He just couldn't help it.
"But what do the Grandfather and Grandmother do?"
"They support everyone else. They are here to be extensions of the Mother, to guide humans."
Tenet frowned. "But a grandmother, by definition, would be more important than the mother."
Scarab sighed. "Are you going to let me finish explaining?" Tenet waved a hand. She went on to explain the Warriors, and how they could also have Healers.
"No, nope. Sorry," Tenet said, cutting her off. "You can't have a killer and a healer in the same category. They are polar opposites."
Tenet looked so serious, as if he was personally insulted by the contradictions. Scarab's eyes twinkled. "I didn't write this crap. I'm just telling you about it. Can I continue?" Tenet waved a hand. "Now, the Nurturers also have Healers, but the majority are mothers."
"Then why aren't the real mothers Mothers?"
"Because there is only one Mother. Earth. And everything we are, everything we have, everything we can be starts with Her."
Tenet's eyebrow quirked. He wondered if she even realized she said "we". He decided he'd do best if he didn't point it out. "So, the Mother, like the big lady herself, is everything?"
"Yes," Scarab said again, getting a headache. "Honestly, it's not a difficult concept. I don't know why you're having such a hard time."
Tenet pressed his lips together and vowed to keep his mouth shut. He listened to the rest of her explanations without butting in again. When she was finished, she asked if he had any questions. Of course he had questions. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. But he knew it was in his best interest to tell her no and figure things out later.
"Good," she said, heading for the door. "I've had about as much temple education as I can take for one day."
Tenet followed her outside and pulled his hood up when the wind drove fresh flakes into his face. "I didn't know it started to snow again," he grumbled, shoving his hands in gloves.
"It'll be a bad one," Scarab said, looking at the color of the sky.
Tenet looked up and studied the clouds. To him, they looked just the same as the clouds they saw the day before and the day before that. "How in the hell do you tell?" he asked as he always did.
"Experience." She snapped her own hood on to brace herself against the wind and walked to their horse. She untied Darla's reins from the post and hopped on, scooting forward while Tenet struggled to settle in behind her. He took the reins from her hands and clicked his tongue, then they started for home.
"So," he said when they were starting down the hill that lead from the temple to the center of town. "Are you going to tell me how it went with Mirvena?"
"Fine," Scarab said.
Tenet smiled. "Fine in Scarab-speak, or actually fine?"
"Scarab-speak?"
"Yes. You know. Fine. Good. Yes, dear."
Scarab snorted. "I have never in my life said 'yes, dear.'"
Tenet's arms tightened around her slightly and he chuckled. "You know what I mean."
Scarab took a breath and nodded. "Yeah. I do. It went fine, like honestly fine. I think. She's very nosy."
"I thought so, too. But then, I'm nosy myself so I don't really mind." He felt that she was relaxed and knew a big burden had been lifted from her. The meeting went well, he was sure of it. She would be a steaming, swearing, snapping mess if it hadn't.
"You are two nosy peas in a pod."
"Yes, ma'am." He steered Darla towards the main store. "Hans should have that secondary therm tape for me. Mind if I swing in and pick it up?"
Scarab shook her head and looked around, assessing any possible dangers. She couldn't help it. When they were around other people, she could not relax. Mirvena said Scarab made the other women nervous. If only the other women knew how nervous they made Scarab, perhaps they wouldn't be so quick to judge.
They reached the store and Tenet hopped down first, then handed the reins up. "Keep the engine running, wife. I'll only be a minute." He grinned a stupid grin and Scarab rolled her eyes and bit back her own smile. Normally she would get down and stand right outside the door, sizing up any townspeople as they approached just in case something went wrong or one of them got a funny idea in their head to try something.
However, Mirvena's words echoed in her head. As difficult as it was, Scarab forced herself to stay up on Darla's back. She was holding the reins too tightly, and Darla started to st
omp and snort. Scarab eased up and patted the horse's neck, looking around and wishing Tenet would hurry. She felt so vulnerable on top of the agitated animal. It would take extra time to pull a weapon and there was no where to hide and no place to duck if...
"Got it," Tenet said, coming out of the store and carefully walking down the slippery steps. He tucked the small package in his coat and pulled himself up behind Scarab. He felt the tension ease in his wife and wondered what was going through her head that made her so on guard, while at the same time just being glad he could actually put her at ease, that his presence alone was enough to soothe her nerves. He gently took the reins and guided Darla home.
They made it to their house before the snow began to fall in heavy sheets, and Tenet was glad. They had several inches of snow on the ground already, far more than he'd ever seen in his life at one time. Scarab insisted that while it had been cold and windy, there still hadn't been a real snowstorm. The last time it snowed, Tenet had insisted up and down that the few inches constituted a storm. Scarab told him to wait and see.
They rubbed down Darla together, then placed her blanket over her back and shut the little door they'd built into the small horse shed. Little by little they were adding to their home when the weather permitted, and the shed now offered enough protection for their horse that Scarab no longer worried whether the beast would make it through the winter or not. Already in the habit of grabbing things when they could, they each stopped at the tarp that covered the large pile of firewood and filled their arms. The wind whipped the door open as soon as Tenet turned the knob and blew tufts of snow across his living room floor. He frowned and sighed and wondered if he'd spend the rest of his life getting his socks wet from melted snow.
"I'll bank the fire," Scarab called from across the room, already kneeling in front of the large central fireplace and coaxing the coals back to life. "Maybe you should get a few more loads of wood? This is going to be a real storm."
Tenet rolled his eyes, dropped his load of wood, then went out for more. He did that one more time before they were satisfied they had enough to last awhile. "I'll get dinner going," he told her, shaking out his jacket and pulling off his gloves.
"No turnips this time," Scarab said. If she had to eat one more damn turnip that week, she'd lose her mind.
"Oh," Tenet said frowning. He loved turnips and didn't mind having them over and over. He supposed that really wasn't very fair, and changed the plan in his head. "Okay, then. What about a jerked stew?"
"With onions?"
Tenet smiled. Of course with onions. They were the only vegetable Scarab ate with any real appreciation. "Yes, with onions. You can't have a stew without onions. And carrots. And dried peas," he said, knowing he was pressing his luck.
Scarab pointed a finger in warning at him. "You sneak one single turnip in, buster, and I swear I'll crack your skull."
Tenet laughed. "No turnips! I promise." He smiled at her and didn't miss the answering glint in her eye. He felt like skipping dinner and heading right to bed, but he could guess how that would go over. He turned and started preparing dinner, whistling to himself as he chopped the dried vegetables and added them to the pot to simmer together over the fire.
"Fire's ready whenever you are," Scarab said, coming up behind him and snatching a piece of jerky from the jar and popping it in her mouth.
"Thanks," Tenet said. He picked up the chopping block and tipped the diced jerky into the deep, cast iron pot and put the heavy lid on top. He handed it to Scarab, and she looped the handle over the thick hook in the big fireplace. They sat together on the large cushioned bench, idly watching the fire and thinking over their events of the day.
"I think things really did go well with Mirvena," Scarab said eventually.
"Good."
"She's not really what I expected. It's different here."
Tenet put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close to rest on his chest. He knew by the tone of her voice that she was feeling vulnerable and he would give her any support he could, even if she'd probably end up pushing him away until she could sort out the thoughts for herself. "Wanna talk?"
Tenet asking before he pelted her with questions? That was a first. Scarab gave a small laugh. "Aren't we being gentlemanly today." She felt Tenet's smile, but he said nothing. "I don't know," she answered honestly.
"You don't have to."
"I...I don't always feel bad here," she said quietly, not knowing how to explain better than that.
"And you did when you were a child?"
She nodded against his chest.
Tenet kissed her head, aching for her. "I did, too. Always."
He understood. Scarab nestled in and stared at the fire knowing she didn't need to say anything else. Of course he understood. He had more money and a higher station in life than she had, but he really did understand what it felt like to always think you were bad, to always be trying to make up for your own deficiencies, to keep trying and trying and never measure up. "You haven't been bad a day in your life."
Tenet was about to tell her the same, then closed his mouth. He would say it, she would disagree, and then there would be an evening of uncomfortable silence. Only time would prove to her that she was worth it, and he had plenty of both time and patience.
The wind howled around the house, making Tenet jump and Scarab chuckle. "I hate when it does that," he said, willing his heart to slow down.
"Sounds just like a wraith, doesn't it?"
Tenet shivered and kissed Scarab's head again before standing and crossing to a window. "It's really blowing out there," he said, as he watched the white swirl twist and dance around the yard. It was snowing so hard he couldn't see the line of trees at the edge of the clearing and he shivered.
"Now this is a real snowstorm," Scarab said coming up beside him. She felt his shiver and leaned in, silently letting him know she was there.
"How deep will it get?" he asked.
Scarab shrugged. "I don't know. A foot, maybe more. It's a big one."
Tenet's eyes went wide. "A foot?"
"Probably more," Scarab confirmed.
"But how will we walk in it?"
Scarab glanced up at his rapidly paling face and fell a little more in love with him. "We will walk in it the same way we walked in the ash."
Tenet looked down at his wife and tried to shake the shivering cold he felt when he stared at the falling snow. "But it's not the same as ash."
Scarab shook her head. "No, but it's the same idea. It's something different that you've never done before, right?"
"Right."
"And I have. Right?"
Tenet's mouth spread into a slow smile. "Right."
Scarab nodded. "Then you're in good hands and have nothing to worry about," she said firmly, as if that settled everything.
And for Tenet, it did. It didn't matter what winter brought. It didn't matter what would happen in the spring when Krupkie returned. Out in the world somewhere his father still hunted him, still searched, and he had some very dangerous and potentially lethal help in his mission. Their safe haven was most likely only temporary, and all too soon they'd probably have to give it up. And yet, none of that mattered. Tenet stood at the window of his house with his wife and stared into the snow that would always terrify him, and he sighed contentedly.
His wife was right. He was in good hands. And for the moment, he had nothing to worry about.
~~~~~~~* * * * *~~~~~~~
About the Author:
Beth is finding it harder and harder to come up with interesting ways to say the same things about herself over and over. Perhaps some random trivia would be the way to go.
Clowns creep her out because of an unnecessarily scary light switch cover that she had no choice but to touch every night to turn out the lights. She hates okra and cilantro, but likes Brussels sprouts. Go figure. She once ate a bagel that a random stranger gave her at 1 a.m. in an Atlanta alley, and no, "bagel" is not a euphemism. She has bee
n trying to come up with a contraption to help pick apples from the top branches of a 35 ft high tree for 9 years now with varying degrees of success and/or mild concussions. And she keeps up with pop culture for the sole purpose of shocking her teenagers with her knowledge of the latest phrase, band, or meme.
When not writing, she's often screwing around on the internet. Feel free to send her an email here, or join her Facebook page here!
Other great books by Beth Reason:
Broken Tenets: Book 1 of the Tenet Series
A Journey Deep
