The Harvest of Moondew Valley: Balthazar's Heart by D. R. R. Hatch

Author:D. R. R. Hatch [Hatch, D. R. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub

[Harvestwane. Day: 12. Year: 702. Weather: Sunny. Time: Late Afternoon]

<!> One Day Until the Harvestwane Festival <!>

Balthazar wanted to kick himself ten times for how he acted yesterday. I’m losing my edge. He huffed. How dare I yell at Tabene for cracking my plumkin! The thing was as easy to heal as anything else on Starshine. Although, it did feel a little…strange. Still, there was no reason to call out Tabene like that.

He hurried into town, passing people as he trotted through the main square. Men and women flocked to the Lunar Saloon, music playing through the open doors and windows. The people who owned that place always celebrated the day before the festival by offering music and free drinks.

“Balthazar!” the village elder called, walking his pet jackalope. “You heading to the saloon?” The man laughed, stopping right in front of him, stroking his long beard, his green hat small and pointed.

Balthazar trembled. “V-Village Elder.” He gave a light bow. “Forgive me, but I’m—”

“None of that!” He waved, gesturing for him to rise. “I should be the one bowing to you.”

You say this every time, old man. Balthazar took a deep breath through his nose. “Do you—”

“Care to pet Fruzzles?” He gestured to the jackalope. It chewed on a flower peeking through the cobblestones, ears twitching. “He’s quite the cutie.”

Balthazar ground his teeth. “As cute as your pet is, I—”

“Oh! I know.” He reached into his pocket. “You want another one of my—”

Balthazar gave an abrupt bow and shouldered past the man as kindly as he could. The burden clinging to his chest throbbed extra painfully today, but, heavens, he didn’t need to be rude. Tabene, though. I need to find her. His apology couldn’t wait.

After marching through a crowd of people with fox ears, scales for skin, and marbled hues, he finally came to a building in the shape of an anvil.

He was about to knock on the door but, amidst the ever-present chattering, he heard Tabene’s loud orders. He peeked around the corner, peering into the backyard.

There, Tabene, wearing an olive outer robe and a caramel inner robe, walked back and forth like a sergeant, teaching fellow craghearts how to cycle their Essence. They were all younger kids, the oldest about twelve, the youngest probably eight. Their skin was like Tabenes, marbled shades of brown and black.

One of the kids, a young girl with three marbled hues—black, brown, and white—held up her hand, gritting her teeth and frowning in concentration as mist trailed from her palm. It formed into an amorphous rock before dispersing.

She went slack, but Tabene caught her, helping her to the floor. She stroked the girl’s face, whispering in her ear.

Balthazar, despite the heaviness of his burden, couldn’t help but warm. When was the last time he cared for a person like that? Yes, he helped feed the Valley and give people work, but this?

This was far more meaningful. And look how naturally she does it. This isn’t the first time he witnessed Tabene offer such tender loving care.

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