Nauraa feels only a slight pang of disappointment that she has no kittens to show Orenn as she hops up into the cart waiting patiently outside the inn and they plod along towards the road. He would have liked them, and she would have liked to see his reaction, since the other man and the dwarf had enjoyed them so much. At any rate, he does not seem to mind that she is late now that the rain has let off and the sun is setting on a surprisingly pleasant and mild evening.
“You will never guess what happened today."
“You were late,” the man snorts, jostling her with his arm.
“I was talking. I made friends, Orenn, and I think I have found an answer to my problem.”
“Which one of 'em?” Nauraa rolls her eyes, and now it is her turn to jab an elbow into his ribs.
“I found out from some people I met that there was a woman like me, from even farther north – she is not here now, because she is traveling home! And if she can do it, she will know how I can do it. It will be a few months, they think, until she is back. And I may have found someone who will teach me the things Ahnen was supposed to, so that I will be ready this time.”
Why does he look so disappointed by such good news? He clears his throat and nods, his voice coming out as a squeak for a moment.
“Ah. Well. ‘Least we have a few months, then.” For a while there is only the rattle of the wagon and the breathing of the horse, and Nauraa wonders whether she has done something wrong, whether he disapproves. Why does she even care if he does or not? She will miss him, of course, but people must come and go all the time from a city like this one, and surely he will be relieved not to have to go out of his way to pick her up every day.
“I did not tell you about the kittens yet!” she begins, trying to find something else to interject in the weighted silence – and he smiles, and all is right again for a while as she tells him of kittens and dwarves and some of the other less-savory gossip she heard that day. Like every other day, the cart stops at the edge of the trees, and Orenn gets out to help her down before he goes his way and she goes hers, and she waits until she can no longer hear the man singing to himself before she turns towards the path.
She really ought to find someone to let the spare room, if only so it is not so quiet coming home. Perhaps there will be another batch of kittens to lure someone in (though that sounds much more sinister than the reality, she thinks) – what was it the dwarf with the milk had said? Something about how they had led her to people who could help. Her father had often smiled skeptically through her mother’s superstitious (or so he called them) tales of animal guides, and yet the horse had brought her to Orenn and the kittens had led her to new friends, and possibly a way home.
There might have been some grain of truth to the stories after all – but right now there is a pile of hems that need her attention more pressingly. This first spark of hope since losing Ahnen will have to be enough.
