The Warrior’s Whisper (The Fairy Tale Series Book 2) by S.E. Smith

Author:S.E. Smith [Smith, S.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Montana Publishing
Published: 2020-12-14T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 7

The shadows of the day had faded into the night by the time they finished their bath in the pool, dressed, and collected food. He marveled at Angeni’s ability to talk to the earth and how it would respond. Seeds, long buried and forgotten, grew before his eyes. Plants that would take months to produce food did so in minutes.

They quietly talked as they harvested their evening meal. Angeni shared wondrous stories of her father, mother, and siblings. He listened, asking questions when she would blush and grow quiet. The stories his grandfather used to tell him poured through his mind.

His eyes swept over her long hair. He wanted to reach out and touch the long braid that fell over her right shoulder. A light breeze swept over them after they emerged from their bath as it had before. The difference this time was that the wind swirled around Angeni’s hair, braiding it and tucking tiny wildflowers amongst the thick strands. She must have sensed his fascination because she paused and fingered the ends of her hair.

“My sisters love to play with my hair,” she explained.

He reached out and touched it. “I can understand why,” he responded.

Her light laugh drew him closer to her. He cupped her cheek and brushed a kiss across her lips. Alone in the canyon, they felt like the only two people in the world. It suddenly occurred to Aditsan that he would be perfectly content to spend the rest of his life here—if that would mean being with her.

“I will ask my brother to start our fire if you would like to gather some wood,” she suggested.

He nodded and watched as she walked back to their campsite. It wasn’t until she glanced back over her shoulder and smiled again that he realized he was staring at her instead of collecting the firewood.

You have it bad, Aditsan, he thought.

Anyone in the outside world who knew him would have a hard time recognizing him now. It was more than his clothing—which would have shocked everyone, including his grandfather’s friends. It was the emotions boiling over inside him. The iron control and cold facade of organization and focus that had helped him through Harvard Law School was completely shattered. His cool, clinical approach to business had been replaced with a burning need to hold onto the woman who, according to the White Man’s world, shouldn’t exist.

He bent and picked up several pieces of sturdy Juniper branches. Once his arms were filled, he turned back to the campsite. The sounds of the night, the hoot of an owl, the howl of a lonesome coyote, mixed with Angeni’s soft, lilting hum.

He dropped the wood next to the fire ring before he knelt and arranged the pieces inside. He surveyed his handiwork before he rose to his feet and wiped his hands together. Angeni walked over to stand beside him. She whispered a soft request to the wind. In seconds, fire rose from the center of the firewood where he had tucked the small pieces of dried bark.

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