Part Nine

by Phoebe Lee Mathius

"He calms the storm,
So that its waves are still.
Then they are glad because they are quiet;
So He guides them to their desired haven."
-Psalm 107:29-30

He sipped his drink out of a tin cup and watched her nibble at a bit of meat.

He had had a very good day of hunting. There were wild hares in the open fields, and he had shot five. He started a second fire (the first had his best pot nestled comfortably in it, brewing tea); prepared the meat and finally roasted it over a, by then, stoked up fire. Much stronger than the first.

Shyne had stirred a number of times in her disgruntled sleep, eyelids shooting up each time. Tyachar would then position his hand on her head, placing a gentle pressure over her eyes and she would return to the interim-comatose.

He watched both fires lick thirstily at the bottom of his pot and at the roasting meat. His eyes trailed back to the pot of tea, his head shaking in amusement. How did she -? He shook his head, not being able to picture her combing the floors of the forest for wild berries and flowers. He was impressed at her strength. He had thought all royalty were....well, sissies. A bunch of nail-biting, rabbity effeminates. How wrong he had been, he thought, switching his attentions to the fires.

The tea was ready, and he had taken it off the fire. When the waters settled, he saw the deep red brew and realized that his throat was parched.

The tea felt good down his throat.

Two hours later found him drinking his third cup of tea...with Shyne. He had wanted her to be the first to sink her teeth into the roasted meat and hence, had waited patiently for her to awaken. She was appreciative of this gesture and had commented that his roast had been one of the most delicious dish she had ever tasted. He saw her smile and he was thrilled.

"It's the sauce. Really. My grandmother taught me how to put that together," he explained.

She chuckled and said, "You learnt well. Teach me sometime."

"Oh, that I will. We'll have to take turns with these culinary activities. Can't be cooking all the time now, can I?"

Both laughed and continued their witty, small banters. Eventually, both fell silent.

"Shyne...?"
"Yeah?"
"Why are you out here?"

She was silent. Her lips had begun parting to speak but she pursed them shut again. Tears began welling in her eyes. Blinking them back, she quietly said,

"I... I don't know."

"He turns rivers into a wilderness,
And the watersprings into dry ground;
A fruitful land into barrenness,
For the wickedness of those who dwell in it."
- Psalm 107:33-34