The Scent of Roses
"Grandma Rose!" I searched every inch of the house but I can't find her. I head for the garden. I skidded to a stop seeing her bent over the roses.
"Grandma Rose, why didn't you answer my calls?"
"I knew you would find me, now Shayla come over here."
I obeyed and crouched down beside her. She held up a red rose and stroked the petals with her thumb.
"Can you tell me what the red rose represents?"
"Passion, love and desire."
"The pink rose?" I plucked one and breathed in its scent. This was Grandma Rose's favourite flower.
"Romance, attraction and delight."
"The yellow." She held up one for me to see.
"Friendship and comfort."
"And the white."
"Peace and inner beauty." I watch her brunch them into a small bouquet.
"The truth can be related to the white rose, correct?" She looked at me intently.
"Yes but that person must be willing to see themselves, you can't force them."
"Then help him," That comment startled me.
"He's not ready. Why must I be the one?"
"He thought his fate was death, you bought him to life. You must be the one to teach him to realize the truth. He must have the test as soon as he is healthy," She stood up still holding her four single coloured roses.
"Don't leave me, Grandma Rose." I clutched onto the hem of her dress.
"I haven't left you, I'm still here." She held out a pink rose to me. I took it admiring the colour. When I looked up again she was gone. I was standing alone in the garden.
I snapped my eyes open. Was Grandma Rose trying to warn me about Folken? I pushed the covers aside and stood in front of my window. Fall was approaching and soon my garden would be covered in snow. I headed for the door but stopped as I remembered that Folken was still sleeping and I didn't want to disturb him. He reminded me of myself when I was young; trying to hide the pain by forcing the memories out and then the aftermath of being unable to control the emotions. I went to my window and slipped out. I pulled my blanket tighter around my body and made me way to where I had the dream. The roses hadn't bloomed because of the chill, but as I pried my fingers deeper into the crowd, a single pink rose was fully bloomed standing tall and proud among the wilted bulbs.
A few hours later I went to check on Folken and still found him asleep. He scared me when he immediately opened his eyes as I reached out to check his cuts.
"Thought I was asleep?" he teased as I inspected his hand.
"You scared me," I masked my emotions. I was wondering whether to mention the test but decided to drop the subject for now.
He sat up awkwardly and towering over me. I looked up at him expectantly as he brushed some hair away from my eyes.
"You're avoiding me," he stated plainly.
"Was I that obvious?" I said meekly locking eyes with him. His eyes were a warm-grey shade with a hint of blue in them; almost like the sky. I made a note to myself to ask him about later the purple markings still on him. I wondered if they were permanent. His hair was messy but still managed to stay spiked.
"I'm a little tired, is this normal?" he asked.
"Your body is reacting to the changes. Sleep is what you are going to be doing half the time," I said.
I sat in my lounge chair curled up in a ball watching him sleep. I remembered the time when I jumped off the roof because I wanted to fly like the angels Grandma Rose described in her stories. That resulted in a broken arm. I wondered how Folken felt every time he opened those wings and took off into the air. Did it hurt when they sprung out? They were massive and black, but in the stories angel's wings were white. Black usually means death. Was that his fate before I saved him?
Strike, block, and recover. I repeated to myself as I went through my daily exercises with Shayla. It's been three months since she's been taking care of me. I spent a month in bed recovering and two months already getting back on my feet. When I first climbed out of bed, I could barely stand up; Shayla explained to me that my muscles were weak and they had to get used to me working. She guided me through the process of getting my muscles stronger. Whenever I threw down my hands and proclaimed that I was giving up, she'd patiently wait until I gathered enough courage to start again. I might have underestimated her. She was knowledgeable about how the body functions, what herbs to use for healing and she could fight. She devised exercises where I use a wooden walking stick to strengthen my arms, legs and upper body. She would take me out for nightly walks and we would sometimes practice there.
"Remember to block your face!" she reminded me as she smacked me across the cheek.
I exclaimed, dropping my stance and gingerly touching my cheek.
"Your reflexes are still slow, we have to work on those," she noted coming up to me and placing her cool hand on my cheek. The coolness eased the pain immediately.
"Better?" she asked taking her hand away. I nodded and pulled out a chair to sit. She handed me a mug of water. I gulped the cold water down in a matter of seconds.
"Have you thought of what you're going to do after you've recovered?" she asked lifting her mug to her lips.
"Not really," I said dryly. I wasn't about to go into my past with Zaibach.
"Someone's coming," she peered through the window. "Keith."
"Who?" I asked standing up.
"No, stay here. I'll be back," she ordered putting on a wool overcoat and stepping out the door.
What was her relationship with this man? Why did she not want me to go outside during the day? She was hiding something.
Light snow had fallen last night. My boots crunched underneath as I approached the cottage. I see her come out shutting the door tightly behind her.
"Shayla, how are you?" I asked as she proceeded to me.
"I was hoping for some better weather but other than that I'm fine," she replied wrapping her arms around her body.
"How is he?" I bought up glazing at the window.
"He's getting stronger each day. What's wrong Keith you seem upset," she asked concerned.
I raked my hands through my hair and asked her straight out, "What do you know about this man? Do you even know his name?"
"Of course I do. His name is Folken. I thought you trusted me why are you accusing me like this?" she asked hurt.
"Look I don't mean to snap at you, but there're things you don't know about him," I justified.
"Who told you? It was the sorcerers wasn't it?" she pressed.
"Yes," I admitted. "They told me Dornkirk had brought in this young man who had lost his arm. He gave him a new arm and trained him in magic. He wasn't from Zaibach, that's all they were told."
"You believe them," she questioned softly shuffling her feet back and forth.
"I hope you got some information from him but when it comes down to everything you aren't giving me any answers. How do you expect me to trust you?" I demanded.
"It's complicated," she whispered.
"I'm listening," I said.
I stared at her in astonishment as she explained her story from when she saved Folken at Dornkirk's palace to her dreams.
"How long have you been able to do this?" I began to process all the information slowly.
"When Grandma Rose took me in: I was about six rotations," she recalled.
"So you think what Grandma Rose said was true, that you have to help Folken since you saved him," I probed.
"It's not just the dream. I feel connected to him. He was dead, DEAD when I found him, but something inside told me I could save him," she insisted clutching her coat tighter.
"They're looking for him, what do they want from him?" I speculated.
"I don't know, we haven't talked about his past in Zaibach," I admitted.
"What if he's a spy? No, Shayla he could be lying to you," I relayed at her.
"Stop, don't say that!" she placed her hands over her ears.
"I'm just want you to be careful," I replied.
"I should get back," she stated taking a step back.
I watched her walk slowly back to house.
I took my coat off as soon as I got in. I washed my hands and began to dry them when I noticed Folken was studying me carefully.
"Are you alright? Did he upset you?" he pushed standing up.
"No, it's not that," I dismissed with a wave of my hand.
"Did you have a lover's quarrel?"
My eyes widened.