by The Awethors
* * *
When Max next awoke, he heard someone singing outside. Slowly, he sat up in the bed and listened. The voice was so full and pretty; it reminded him of his mother. Despite this, he could summon no tears, only wonderment. When the singing stopped, he got out of bed and went to the other room.
On a round table a bowl of soup sat, waiting for him. He could only assume she meant for him to take it, so he sat down in front of it and blew steam away from the hot broth. It smelled different than before, much saltier.
He didn’t jump this time when she walked in, but smiled pleasantly at her return. Her long, thick hair was drawn messily into a braid down her back, and she wore a cloak. “Hello,” he said to her, and she nodded in his direction.
“Is this for me?” he asked, gesturing to the soup.
She nodded again.
Feeling content, he took the spoon in his hand and sipped away at the soup. It was nowhere near as sweet as before, but he liked it this way. It made him feel even better.
“Why are you taking care of me?” the boy asked, unable to stop himself.
She looked at him with a bit of amusement, before saying, “It would have been a sin to leave you out in the summer heat to die.”
“So you’re a priestess, then?”
She laughed, her voice confirming that the singing from before had been her. “No.”
“But you’re so charitable,” he insisted innocently, “You must do some good in the world.”
She paused for a moment, reflecting on this statement. Her eyes drifted to the window, settling on the swaying tree branches outside. “Well, yes,” she said, and her eyes fell back onto the boy. They shimmered like fish scales. “I protect the forest.”
“You protect... the forest?” In his mind, the boy was putting the pieces together. Something was very different about this lady. Something big.
“Yes, my dear boy,” she replied, in a voice that made her sound much older than she looked. “I assume you know the rumors... about how a sorceress lives at the edge of the forest, protecting it for all her years? I’ve heard them all, boy, and I can assure you, most of them are not just rumors.” She smiled a little, but still held a certain level of seriousness.
This made the boy practically leap out of his chair. “A sorceress!” He bounced up in his seat, looking at her with wide eyes. “Is it true, then? What the people say... what the people... said...” He trailed off, lost in his own nostalgia. Tears formed in his beautiful brown eyes.
“Don’t you dare cry,” she warned, giving him a stern look. “Not after you’re finally back to optimal hydration. Don’t dwell on the past. What’s important is that you’re alive to tell the tale of your people, to spread the stories of your past.”
The boy shivered as he held back his tears, but smiled a little in return. “You really are very nice, my lady.”
The sorceress flinched visibly at his words, then looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Why did you call me that?”
“You are a sorceress!” the boy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air dramatically the way only a child could. “What else am I to call you? Also, you haven’t told me your name.”
She eyed him for a moment before saying, “And I probably never will. Speaking of... what is your name, boy?”
“Maximus Grace.”
A smile came to her lips. “Do you mind if I call you Max?”
He grinned. “That depends... May I call you my lady?”
The fond smile was replaced by a scowl. “If you must.”
