Briar had smelled lightning. He had touched it and lived. He had seen lighting every day since he came to Winding Circle. It had always sparked in her flyaway copper hair, but now it is more controlled with her hair done up in her neat braids. She even had heat, wind, and the power of the earth now, all done up in those braids. But lightning had always fascinated him, terrified him. Lightning was bright, strong, quick, and beautiful. But it was also dangerous. It burned, blinded, and deafened with its whip cracks of thunder that it trailed along with it. It was sharp. In his eyes, Tris was the total embodiment of lightning. She was smart, strong, quick of mind, and beautiful in her own way. Tris was lightening.
Tris left for four years to go to Lightsbridge. Sure, he saw her once every year, but each year seemed to get longer and longer. It hurt him to know that one of them was not there. She was even to far for them to mind speak. He felt like a flower with out rain, wilting. He needed the rain she brought. The storms that she contained within herself. The gentle mist of her eyes when they softened. The sharp lash of her temper, bright and flaring as the lighting he saw her as.
Finally, the day came when she returned. He was stunned by the change. She had lost a little bit of weight, though she was still slightly plump. She had also grown a bit as well, though she was still short. But the greatest change in her was in the way she held herself. No longer did she protect herself with a cloak of anger. She no longer needed it. She stood there in the doorway, and they could sense the change. Her power was tightly controlled and invisible, but they were just as aware of its strength as they would have been had she been shooting off full sized lightning bolts, if not more so. She stood in the doorway, just looking at them, not saying a word. Her eyes were mist gentle, yet stormy at the same time. It seemed as if she were waiting for them to make the first move. With a sudden scraping of chairs, the three of them ran to her and buried her in a group hug. They felt her tense, then relax, hugging back. Lightning sparkled in her hair from the strength of her joy, of their joy. Briar wanted to touch it, to feel the lightning again. But he didn't.
After several months, things had gone back to normal. Tris had gone out with Glaki, now 14 years old. Daja was in her smithy. Sandry had gone to visit Lark. Everyone was either busy or out having fun. Except for Briar. He couldn't concentrate. The image of Tris' face that morning when she had greeted Glaki would not leave him. Her eyes had lost their storminess, leaving it all as morning mist. Her face had softened and her smileāMila, her smile! It made her entire face light up! ...And it was all for Glaki, her adoptive daughter. It made his heartache to know that it wasn't for him. That the dancing light in her eyes that reminded him of Sandry, yet was completely Tris, whenever she spoke of what she and Glaki did on their outings together was not for him. On that day, after months of denial, Briar finally admitted it to himself. Yes, he had smelled lightning. Yes, he had seen and felt it, and heard it. But that wasn't enough. He wanted to taste it too.
When Tris came home that night, the expression on her face jerked at his heart even more than her smile. Her face was blank, as if she were in shock. Her eyes were stormy and flashing, yet glistened with tears. Glaki was clinging to her hand, speaking softly to her. Tris shrugged her off and went upstairs to her room. Glaki recoiled, shock and pain written plainly on her face. This was one of the rare times Tris had ever shook off her comfort.
Tris did not come down for dinner. But when Glaki went to bed, Briar could hear Tris speaking softly to her. Then Glaki said something, causing her to laugh. Briar started. Sandry looked up. Daja cocked her head. Here was another change in Tris. Her laugh was gentle, the edges that were normally there softened. It was beautiful. Sandry, Daja, and Briar then continued with the cleaning up, only to come to a complete halt. There was a voice echoing down the hall, ethereal in its utterance. After a moment, they realized that the sound was that of Tris singing a lullaby to Glaki. Her voice had changed since the last time they had heard her sing, more than four years ago. Her voice was that of rain on thatch. It was the sound of the waves. The whispering of the wind through leaves. Soft as fog, sweet as a bird's, her voice rang throughout the house. Briar let out the breath he had been holding as the sound faded into silence. He was vaguely aware of the others doing the same. The last haunting echoes faded, and Briar found it hard to recall its sound. The three looked at each other in surprise. None of them new where Tris had learned to sing like that.
A storm woke Briar from his sleep. Thunder echoed through the house. Now wide awake, Briar went to check on the others, only to remember that Daja and Sandry and gone elsewhere for the night. Daja was at Frostpine's to aid him with a particularly vexing metal work. Sandry was once again at the Duke's citadel. He went to check on Glaki, only to find her still fast asleep. Tris was not in her room. Quietly, Briar stepped out into the garden. Sure enough, there was Tris glorifying in the storm. Drawn as if to the sun, Briar walked up beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.
"What's wrong, Coppercurls?"
For a moment, Tris was silent. Then, her voice sad, she said, "I saw my mother in the market today. She didn't even recognize me. But she spoke to me. We got to talking about magic. Then about the people who we knew had been tested and found lacking by the mage-sniffers, despite the strange things that went on around them. She told me how her daughter Trisana," Tris said her full name as if it were some contagious disease, "had been tested, but was too worthless to contribute to the house of Chandler. How so many strange things had gone on around her that they had to get rid of her." Tris sniffed. "The phrase she used was, 'If such a possessed child does not have the gift of magic, or a very good potential for a rich marriage, well, then, we simply could not abide her living in our house. We gave her away, and we never want to get that ugly girl back.' Well, I don't want them back either." Tris wiped at her eyes, hair sparking gloomily.
"But it still hurt, didn't it." It was not a question. Briar turned her around and griped her shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. Her eyes were the weary gray of a dismal winter. "But you shouldn't listen to her, Coppercurls. You've got us for a family and you're beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Briar heard the words come out, but was not aware of forming the thought to say them. Tris looked at him, her eyes an unreadable emotion.
"You really think so?" Her voice was soft.
"Coppercurls, I know so." Briar grinned and gently wiped off a runaway tear with his thumb. Tris smiled. The smile lit up her face just like the smile she always had for Glaki did. Briar's grin faded as he looked intently at her. Then, without thinking, he kissed her, gently and deeply. He felt her sigh and relax, her arms going around him. She tasted like spring rain and Autumn fogs. She tasted like the sea wind and stormy nights. Finally, they drew away from each other. Tris' eyes were soft and sparkling with that light that always reminded him of Sandry, but was still Tris. She smiled her sun bright smile. Briar smiled back. Yes, he knew the smell, feel, look, and sound of lightening. But now he knew the taste of lightening, too.