Akira Stone's Arc

Chapter 7 of 10

They left before the lake went gold. Jasper walked ahead. Akira followed at his heel, her satchel snug against her hip. The woods were wet from the night. Every step pressed a print into the moss. Jasper did not look back to check on her. He listened instead. She could tell by the tilt of his ear. She kept her voice out of the trees for the first hour. He had made the rules clear without saying them. Move quiet. Move fast. Do not slow him down. She matched his pace and did not ask for rest. The clock was hers too. They came out at the water near midmorning. The lake lay flat and clear, bright enough to hurt her eyes. Jasper crouched at the bank and drank from his hand. Akira knelt beside him. The grove sat on the far side, a stand of pale trees with the bloodroot at their feet. "We cross at the shallows," he said. "How long at the patch?" "As long as you need. Not longer." She nodded. They waded. The cold bit her calves. On the other side, she found the root fast and knelt to cut. Jasper watched her hands. She showed him the angle. She showed him the depth. He did not ask questions. He copied the cut once, cleanly, and set the piece in her cloth. "Good," she said. He grunted. He cut another. She let him work while she sorted the shavings by size. Her elder needed the thick ones. The pack could use the rest. She waited until his hands were busy. Then she spoke, low. "There's something you should know before we go back." He did not look up. "Say it." "The root alone won't do what I did for your sister. Or for the pup." Now he looked. His yellow eyes fixed on her. "The cut is only half of it," she said. "The rest is elven magic. Without it, the root helps a little. It doesn't close a wound in a day. It doesn't burn out an infection." He sat back on his heels. "You're telling me this now." "I'm telling you before we walk into your cabin. If you want that kind of healing again, you need an elf near your territory. Me, or someone like me. I can teach the cut and the wrap. I can't teach the magic. It isn't taught." He was quiet a long moment. The lake threw light across his face. "My sister will want to hear it from you," he finally said. "I know." "She won't like it." "I know that too." He stood. He tied her cloth shut and handed it back. He did not thank her for the warning. He did not punish her for it either. The trust had held. "Then we walk back," he said, "and you say it in front of her."