Chapter 8
The autumn breeze blew through the holiday tree, rustling the leaves on the branches that were bare of fruit. The breeze ruffled the flap on a large white tent pitched on of the stone house foundations. A small campfire burned nearby, cooking something in a black iron pot hanging off a tripod. The breeze carried the smoke past a blanket with neatly arranged bottles and vials, each containing a different liquid or powder. A knapsack rested between the blanket and the tent.
A young woman of about seventeen walked into the camp. Her long blond hair was elaborately braided behind her back. She wore a white cotton dress with a blue skirt. Her golden eyes looked full of mischief as she walked over to the tent and snapped the flap open.
"Gotcha!" she yelled.
She blinked at the neatly folded bedroll in the otherwise empty tent. Sorrowful music drifted down from the branches of the holiday tree. She ran over to the tree and leapt twenty feet onto one of the lower branches. A young man of about eighteen was sitting on a nearby branch. His brown hair was parted on one side and his green eyes focused on the ocean far below. He was dressed in a gray tunic and pants with a brown leather vest. As he continued playing the melancholy tune on the recorder, she kissed him on the cheek.
"Hello Alan," she said impishly.
He stopped playing in mid-note. "Hello Cerl," he replied.
"Grandpa sent me to get you," she said, taking his arm.
"I'm not done yet," he said with a sigh.
She shook her head. "You can't collect every plant and mushroom in the world."
"I know that," he replied, "But some of them have tremendous medicinal value."
Cerl rolled her eyes. "You sound just like Grandpa."
He grinned. "Well, I'll never be the doctor he is."
"Sure you will," she retorted, "You have the best teacher."
He put the recorder into his pocket. "Thanks for coming."
"Well I wanted an excuse to see you," she said looking at the rolling surf, "You've been gone for weeks."
"I'm starting to realize why Dad left," he said bitterly, "I can't stand Carmen anymore."
"You want to see the world," she said gently.
He nodded sadly.
"I'll go with you, wherever you want," she said taking his hand.
"No Cerl," he said with a sigh, "I can't leave Mom alone."
"She would tell you to go," said Cerl.
Alan laughed half-heartedly. "I know, that's what makes it worse."
Cerl regarded him evenly. "Maybe, she'd go with you."
"Perhaps," said Alan, "But would you leave Doc behind?"
Cerl fell silent. Alan climbed down several branches. Cerl leapt straight down to the ground. Alan walked over to the campfire and threw in a few a few sticks. He took a log out of the woodpile and retrieved an axe from his knapsack. Cerl formed her right hand into a scythe-like blade. With a single stroke, she sliced the log in half. Alan blinked in surprise, then smiled.
"Uh, thanks."
Cerl's blade reformed into a hand. She smirked. Alan gestured to the blanket and she sat on it.
"I can never get used to that," said Alan eventually.
"Why not?" asked Cerl, suddenly worried.
Alan threw a log into the fire. "I keep forgetting you aren't human."
She hung her head. "Does it disgust you?"
"No, I envy you Cerl," he said as he dusted off his hands, "I sometimes wish I could do that too."
She wiped away a tear. "It's terrible to have to hide who you are Alan."
He opened the lid on the pot and ladled out some stew into a bowl for Cerl.
"You can always be yourself in front of Doc and me," he said handing her the bowl.
She ate her stew in silence. Alan served himself and sat next to her.
"Remember the way we used to go camping like this?" he asked.
She nodded. "Your cooking has improved since then."
Alan stifled a laugh.
"Well, we should turn in after supper," he said, "You can have the tent."
"Where will you sleep?" asked Cerl.
"Outside, under the stars," he replied, "We've got a big day tomorrow!"