grazing, and we got the dogs keepin' 'em company," Orla said, frowning with concern. "You sure you don't want to go play?"
"I'm sure," Cailix said, turning toward the wagon.
It seemed to take forever to get all of the sacks of grain loaded onto the wagon, and when she was done she was hot and covered in sweat, despite the cool air of the early spring morning. After a quick stop at the farmhouse to change into fresh clothes, she headed toward the high range where the sheep were grazing.
"Cailix," Miss Orla called after her. She had a habit of popping her head out of the kitchen window just as Cailix passed by—as if she had Goodwyn's ability to see things before they happened and knew where she was at all times.
"Yes?"
"Remember, no magic," she said.
"I won't," Cailix replied, trying to find the right phrase to put the woman at ease. "Momma."
Miss Orla's face lit up with a bright smile and she disappeared through the window back into the house. Cailix knew what everyone wanted to hear, especially Miss Orla.
It didn't take long to get to the top of the hill and out onto the flat range of grass where the sheep grazed. Nothing more than little dark shapes peeking through the fog on the horizon, she watched them for a moment, mystified by how the dogs seemed to innately know how to corral the sheep, even without the direction of a shepherd.
She wondered if dogs ever got bored with being just dogs. Did they ever want to be something more than a dog?
Her goal lay on the other side of the plateau, past the sheep, and she was glad there were no shepherds around to watch her. She veered off to the right, not wanting to cross through the middle of the flock and disturb the good work the dogs were already doing.
A gray shape taller than the sheep appeared through the haze in the distance.
There aren't supposed to be any shepherds up here today, she thought. She couldn't let anybody see where she was going so she sat down in the grass, hoping the shepherd would pass out of sight and she could continue on her way.
Her bad luck had other plans.
As the shepherd came closer, the fog obscured him less and less until she recognized him. It wasn't a shepherd; it was Colin. He and his family ran a farm about a mile south of the high range. His father was also the keeper of Aldsdowne's southeastern lighthouse. The boy was an endless source of annoyance, and she tried to avoid him at all costs.
"What're you doing?" he asked, plopping down onto the grass next to her without asking for permission.
"Not much, just watchin' the sheep," she said, taking a few shuffle-hops away from the boy. She adopted the speech patterns of others when they were nearby, as she found it made people more comfortable if she spoke like them. She used emphatic and contracted words when talking with Mr. Woss, never mentioned magic around the children, and kept things simple around Colin.
That's precisely what Colin was— simple . Her mind felt inhibited his mere presence.
Silence passed between them for a long time. Cailix imagined it must have felt quite awkward for him but she really didn't care. Awkwardness was a fabrication of the mind, a reaction to poorly managed expectations.
"So, there's the harvest festival coming up," he said.
Oh dear lord , she thought. He's still latched onto me like some leech . The feeling of revulsion mixed with a little embarrassment as she realized she had begun to sweat in her freshly changed clothes.
"Yes, I've heard. Bayard and Drayna have been nattering about it for weeks," Cailix said.
Drayna and Bayard both had suitors and planned on attending the harvest festival as couples. They already had their finest outfits picked out—some of pieces specially tailored by Miss Orla herself. Cailix had no interest in the harvest festival or in being any part of a couple. It all just seemed so mundane and insignificant. Why bother? she thought.
"Nattering?" Colin asked. The poor, simple boy.
"That
"I'm sure," Cailix said, turning toward the wagon.
It seemed to take forever to get all of the sacks of grain loaded onto the wagon, and when she was done she was hot and covered in sweat, despite the cool air of the early spring morning. After a quick stop at the farmhouse to change into fresh clothes, she headed toward the high range where the sheep were grazing.
"Cailix," Miss Orla called after her. She had a habit of popping her head out of the kitchen window just as Cailix passed by—as if she had Goodwyn's ability to see things before they happened and knew where she was at all times.
"Yes?"
"Remember, no magic," she said.
"I won't," Cailix replied, trying to find the right phrase to put the woman at ease. "Momma."
Miss Orla's face lit up with a bright smile and she disappeared through the window back into the house. Cailix knew what everyone wanted to hear, especially Miss Orla.
It didn't take long to get to the top of the hill and out onto the flat range of grass where the sheep grazed. Nothing more than little dark shapes peeking through the fog on the horizon, she watched them for a moment, mystified by how the dogs seemed to innately know how to corral the sheep, even without the direction of a shepherd.
She wondered if dogs ever got bored with being just dogs. Did they ever want to be something more than a dog?
Her goal lay on the other side of the plateau, past the sheep, and she was glad there were no shepherds around to watch her. She veered off to the right, not wanting to cross through the middle of the flock and disturb the good work the dogs were already doing.
A gray shape taller than the sheep appeared through the haze in the distance.
There aren't supposed to be any shepherds up here today, she thought. She couldn't let anybody see where she was going so she sat down in the grass, hoping the shepherd would pass out of sight and she could continue on her way.
Her bad luck had other plans.
As the shepherd came closer, the fog obscured him less and less until she recognized him. It wasn't a shepherd; it was Colin. He and his family ran a farm about a mile south of the high range. His father was also the keeper of Aldsdowne's southeastern lighthouse. The boy was an endless source of annoyance, and she tried to avoid him at all costs.
"What're you doing?" he asked, plopping down onto the grass next to her without asking for permission.
"Not much, just watchin' the sheep," she said, taking a few shuffle-hops away from the boy. She adopted the speech patterns of others when they were nearby, as she found it made people more comfortable if she spoke like them. She used emphatic and contracted words when talking with Mr. Woss, never mentioned magic around the children, and kept things simple around Colin.
That's precisely what Colin was— simple . Her mind felt inhibited his mere presence.
Silence passed between them for a long time. Cailix imagined it must have felt quite awkward for him but she really didn't care. Awkwardness was a fabrication of the mind, a reaction to poorly managed expectations.
"So, there's the harvest festival coming up," he said.
Oh dear lord , she thought. He's still latched onto me like some leech . The feeling of revulsion mixed with a little embarrassment as she realized she had begun to sweat in her freshly changed clothes.
"Yes, I've heard. Bayard and Drayna have been nattering about it for weeks," Cailix said.
Drayna and Bayard both had suitors and planned on attending the harvest festival as couples. They already had their finest outfits picked out—some of pieces specially tailored by Miss Orla herself. Cailix had no interest in the harvest festival or in being any part of a couple. It all just seemed so mundane and insignificant. Why bother? she thought.
"Nattering?" Colin asked. The poor, simple boy.
"That
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