Thank you so much for all the lovely fic! If it is not too greedy, I have two prompts: 1) a sibling moment between Leo, Carver and Bethany before the Blight, and 2) Fenris and Merrill sharing a moment of kinship over being the only elves in the gang.
“They’re watching again,” Carver grumbled, as his brotherhefted another heavy crate onto the cart.
“Just – ignore them,” Leo answered. His words were strained,little more than a grunt. Carver scowled.
“Easy for you to say. What a waste. You don’t even likegirls.”
The crate slid into place and Leo gave himself a moment tocatch his breath. He wiped sweat from his brow as he glanced, uncaring, at thegaggle of village girls who had gathered across the street from the store togiggle and whisper and watch him work. It was one of the hottest summersLothering had ever known, and his shirt felt wet and scratchy where it clung tohis back. He snatched the water skein from his brother’s hands and drank deeplybefore answering.
“You’re too young for them,” he said. “But if you wantattention, you could try helping.”
Carver frowned. “Someone has to keep the horse steady.”
“That horse has never shied a day in her life.”
“Right – because I keep her steady.”
Leo rolled his eyes and he thrust the skin back at hisbrother before turning to struggle with a great, heavy bag of rice, hoisting itonto his shoulder as he brought it from the store to the cart, sweat rollingdown his brow, muscles straining. He was sixteen.
Father was still inside, haggling out the final details ofthe prices for the supplies that would keep their little farmstead running forthe next several months. Salt and sugar and feed, seeds and flour and rice, anew blade for the plough, a harness for the mule. They didn’t live so far fromtown that it was difficult to get back for necessities when they needed them,but Malcolm Hawke liked to limit the time his family spent around others. Moreover,Lothering’s summers were short, and her winters harsh. It was important to beprepared.
“Do you see Bethany?” he demanded, a little crossly.
“Hasn’t come out of the Chantry yet,” Carver said. “What doyou think she gets up to in there? It’s not even a holiday.”
“That’s between her and the Maker. Anyway, she liked thatsister – the redheaded one. She tells her stories.”
Carver frowned, then puffed himself up. “Stories are for kids,”he said. Leo rolled his eyes again.
There was no relief from the heat, even as the sun began tolower in the sky. Carver claimed the bench, and rode up front with Father whenthey finally began to head back to the farm, leaving Leo and Bethany tostruggle to find a comfortable way to sit in the back of the cart with all thesupplies. Something was digging into Leo’s back, but he didn’t bother to move.His muscles felt liquid and sore. He watched his sister settle herself betweentwo crates, tucking her skirts around her knees. She always looked wistful anda little sad after her visits to the chantry.
“C’mon, you never let me drive!” Carver begged their father,up front.
Bethany wouldn’t meet Leo’s eyes.
“There’s nothing wrong with us, you know,” Leo told her,softly. He tried to sound confident. They both jerked, and had to readjusttheir balance, as the cart began to move. Carver was driving. That meant they’dboth be jostled and bruised by the time they got home. “You don’t have anypenance to make up for. You don’t have to keep apologizing to the Maker for theway he made you.”
Despite his attempts to sound gentle, Leo’s voice came outharder than he meant for it to. He didn’t expect an answer from his sister, butafter a moment she looked up. She offered him something like a smile.
