Obsidian Thornwing's Arc

Chapter 9 of 18

Morning came gray through the cabin window. Obsidian pulled his boots on by the cold hearth. His pale blue wings folded tight against his back. The captain's paper sat in his belt. Two days to the Ridge meant he had to leave today. He knew it. She knew it. Neither of them had said it yet. Sylvara stood at the table, wrapping bread and dried meat in cloth. Her braid hung over her shoulder. She did not look up when he crossed the room. The small glowing lynx watched them from the doorway. "I saddled nothing," she said. "You don't have a horse." "Iron will have one at the trail." She tied the cloth with a knot and set it in his hand. Her fingers stayed on his a second too long. "Sylvara." "Say it." "I don't want to go." She finally looked at him. Her green eyes were steady. "You trained your whole life for this. You go." "I know." "You come back." "I know." He set the food on the table and pulled her against him. She fit under his chin. He felt her breath catch once, then even out. She was not going to cry. He loved her more for it. "The bond holds across distance," she said into his chest. "I'll feel you north. You'll feel me here." "Is that true." "Yes." He believed her because she did not soften things. Boots crunched on the path. Iron pushed through the ferns leading a bay horse by the reins. His green hood was up. He stopped at the edge of the clearing and waited without speaking. He would not rush this. He also would not pretend it could take all morning. Obsidian let her go. He picked up his sword belt and buckled it. He picked up the food. He stepped to the door and stopped. He turned back. "Marry me when I come home." Sylvara's mouth opened, then closed. She nodded once. "Yes." "Say it." "Yes. Come home." He crossed to her and kissed her forehead. Then her mouth. Then he walked out before he could not. Iron handed him the reins. He looked at the blue wings, at the paper in Obsidian's belt, at the cabin door where Sylvara stood watching. "Ready," Iron said. Not a question. "Ready." Obsidian mounted. The horse shifted under him. He looked once more at the red mushroom cap of the cabin and the small figure in the doorway. She raised one hand. He raised his. Then he turned the horse north. Iron rode beside him in silence until the trail bent through the pines. Only then did the older man speak. "Ridge camp by dusk tomorrow. You'll take command of the east flank. There's word of movement past the storm belt." Obsidian nodded. The cabin was already behind him. The Ridge was ahead. His wings caught the morning light and threw it back pale blue.