Shea handed her a sketching of a peregrinefalcon in mid dive. It was a natural animal, but to a girl raisedin a village where all non-domesticated animals were considered‘beasts,’ it would seem exotic. Shea had sketched it during one ofthe numerous breaks the men had taken.
“Pathfinder Shea,” a woman said from behindthem, disapproval coloring her voice. “The elders wish to speak toyou.”
Shea’s smile disappeared as she schooled herface to a politeness she didn’t really feel. Aimee hid the drawingin her skirts.
The woman’s eyes shifted to Shea’s companion.“Aimee, my girl, your mother’s looking for you. I suggest you geton home.”
Aimee bobbed in place, suitably chastened andfollowed as the woman swept away, but not before aiming a smallsmile in Shea’s direction.
Shea lifted a hand and waved. Aimee hadbecome something of Shea’s shadow in the past few weeks. It was awelcome change, given how most of the villagers pretended shedidn’t exist or treated her with barely concealed hostility.
Shea looked woefully towards the tightlypacked dirt trail leading to her little cottage. Her muscles achedand three days of grime and dirt coated her body.
She wanted a bath, a hot meal and then tosleep for twelve hours straight. She didn’t want to deal with thegrumpy, blame-wielding elders who no doubt wanted things theycouldn’t or shouldn’t have. But if she didn’t deal with them now,they would just show up and nag at her until she gave them herattention. They wanted something from her. Again. Better to dealwith things now so she could have an uninterrupted rest later.
Her well-deserved break would have towait
Her steps unhurried, she turned in theopposite direction of her bed. Even moving as slowly as shereasonably could, she quickly found herself in front of the townhall. It was also a pub and gathering place, basically anything thevillage needed it to be.
There were only two stone structures in theentire settlement. The town hall was the first and greatest,holding the distinction of being the only building large enough toshelter the entire village in the event of an attack. There wasonly one entrance, a heavy wooden door that could be barred fromthe inside. The thin slits in the upper levels kept attackers ofboth the four legged and two legged variety from slippinginside.
The building was the primary reason thefounding families decided to settle here and was the village’s oneclaim to wealth. The rest of the village, small though it was, hadsprung up around it as a result.
For a place as backwards and isolated asBirdon Leaf, the town hall was a majestic building they couldn’thope to replicate. Even without the skills to maintain it, theywere lucky. Some of the larger towns didn’t have a structure thisversatile that could act as both gathering place and shelter fromdanger.
Shea reached the doors and paused to brushthe dirt from the back of her trousers and make sure her thin shirtwas tucked in and her dark brown, leather jacket was lyingstraight.
She smoothed a stray strand of honey brownhair behind her ear and ran her hand over her sloppy bun to makesure it was holding. Loose, her hair would reach past her shouldersin a wild mess. That’s why she tied it back for the most part, butno matter how many times she tried to tame it into a sleek bun, itwould look like a bird’s nest by the time she walked five feet.
It was difficult to project confidence andprofessionalism when she wasn’t even the master of her ownappearance.
Giving up the attempt to fix her appearanceas futile, she braced her feet to open the painfully, heavy woodendoor. It was a struggle to move it with just one arm, but shecouldn’t afford to show the villagers weakness, or she would losewhat little respect she had.
A slow creak announced its opening. Sheslipped through when there was just enough space before letting thedoor bang shut behind her.
Despite the bright day outside, it was dim inthe town hall. The narrow windows let in little light. Candlesflickered with merry abandonment from their place on tables and inbracers.
Wooden benches were stacked around the edgesof the space. During meetings they were broken out so the villagerscould have a place to sit while they jaw jacked. Today, severaltables dotted the area. When the hall wasn’t used for meetings,village members used it as a place to meet and drink.
A group of five huddled around one table,their voices a low rumble in the large room. The middle-aged manwith his back to Shea was Zrakovi, the village leader. He lifted amug and drank, tilting back a head of dark hair turning silver atthe temples. Shea came to a stop behind him, waiting for herpresence to be acknowledged.
Another man looked up and nudged the man nextto him. One by one the others shot glances to where Shea waitedpatiently.
Zrakovi turned his head slightly.“Pathfinder.”
“Elder Zrakovi.” Shea inclined her headrespectfully.
“I have a job for you.”
“I just got back from an assignment.”Technically, she was supposed to get five days off between jobs toprevent fatigue and to give her time to plan the next route.
That almost never happened.
“Well, you’re needed for this,” he saidsharply.
“Oh?”
“Watch your tone, girl,” a man with reddishblond hair and blunt features said.
