Chapter 23:
That night, Alira slept fitfully. She tossed and turned; eventually tangling herself in her bedding to the point that she awoke. Her breathing was harsh, and the sweat that cooled on her skin left her shivering. The warm bundle near her belly was clearly Mischief, his small form deep in sleep.
Alira carefully untangled herself from fox and blanket. She blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light of the moons, and she quickly searched for Caramon and Raistlin. Caramon's familiar form was on the ground where she had seen him bed down the night before. Raistlin, however, was not where he was last night. The two brothers tended to sleep further from Alira...close enough that if she needed help they could aid her, but far enough to avoid any gender issues. But Raistlin was nowhere within her line of sight, and his blanket was on the ground in a rumpled heap.
Her curiosity got the best of her. Even after the surprise of last night...that kiss that still lingered and burned on her lips...she couldn't fight the desire to see where he had gone. Alira was so very confused, but she that at the very least, she had a responsibility.
Carefully, she made her way through the forest, surprised that Mischief stayed where he slept. She could see, ahead of her, a dark spot shaped rather like a man. Schooling her breathing, she drew Caramon's knife, which she had spirited from his sleeping shape. She told herself she might need it, just in case.
The man ahead of her was wearing robes like a mage would, and Alira was fairly certain it was Raistlin. But she was not going to take any chances, and she crept up quietly as any of her Elven kindred could. Slowly, she drew in a deep breath, carefully holding it. She slipped around in front of the man, noting that he stood perfectly still, his head tipped upward to the moons. She saw the glimmer of gold-tinged skin and slowly released her breath. It was Raistlin, for no other mage on Krynn had that golden skin. She lowered the knife, painfully aware that she had donned robes made of a much thinner material than usual...as the night was warm. She slipped it into the cord that served as a belt, and straightened. Alira was careful to move slowly, as she didn't want to startle Raistlin. As she stepped forward, he lowered his head...his queer eyes reaching hers. Alira couldn't read those eyes, but she could see a calm in his demeanor.
"Alira." He said, her name music on his tongue. That mouth, so used to the arcane words of magic, said her name sweetly as any sleep-spell. Alira nodded, acknowledging him, as she swallowed. Raistlin reached out to her, asking for her hand. As though caught in a spell, she extended her hand to him, allowing him to take hold of it. The familiar heat of his skin was soothing, and she followed gladly as he drew her near to him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, just holding her. Holding her. The world was gone as he held her, gently, and strong. She felt tears roll down her cheeks as she placed her head to his breast. His heart beat strongly, slowly. Quietly, she sobbed as he comforted her, stroking her hair with one hand. He murmured some prayer to Lunitari, begging the Lady of the Red Moon to heal Alira of her pain.
Alira did not know how long they stood there, nor did she ever know when he put her back where she slept, and tucked her in.
But her dreams were sweet that night.
When the morning finally arrived, Caramon woke Alira. Surprisingly, Alira felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders as they prepared to continue. Raistlin acted as he always did...while Caramon chatted with Alira. Alira was telling Caramon recipes, and giving him instructions, though she knew he would probably misremember them. She promised to teach him to cook properly. Raistlin would steal glimpses at her and Caramon from time to time, watching as Caramon made her laugh. The familiar pangs of jealousy tore through him. No matter what he did, it would always be Caramon who incited that beautiful laughter from her...it was Caramon with the ability to make her smile. And yet, he remembered the night before. Like a fairy spirit, she had appeared from the wood...full of inner pain and torment. His arms remembered her feel. His body remembered the mold of her frame. Lunitari had granted him that one wish, last night, and he could tell even now that Alira was free of the draconian. Clearly, it wasn't merely the idea of a draconian that frightened her...but the idea that her trust could be turned against her, and could be used to hurt her. But he, Raistlin, had done the thing that Caramon could never do. He had healed her.
They stopped for a meal halfway through the day. Alira recognized something. Not just something, but a road. She swore.
"Huh?" Caramon asked, as she left her food on the ground and began to walk away. "Has she gone mad?"
Raistlin hushed him as Alira started to speak rapidly.
"Slow down..." Raistlin said, stopping himself before he could even begin to say "dearheart."
"I recognize this area! We're near Qualinesti!"
"Is that where we're supposed to be going?" Caramon asked.
"It is now." Raistlin replied ominously.
That night, Caramon slept while Raistlin and Alira sat near the fire in silence. Both were aware of each other. Both felt the same, but their fool's caution kept them from acting. Until finally, Raistlin turned to Alira.
"Does the draconian still haunt your dreams?" he asked her, gentle and compassionate, rather than hissing. He stifled the cough that followed.
She turned to him, and smiled.
"Thank you." She said...but what they both heard was "I love you."
That night, Alira slept fitfully. She tossed and turned; eventually tangling herself in her bedding to the point that she awoke. Her breathing was harsh, and the sweat that cooled on her skin left her shivering. The warm bundle near her belly was clearly Mischief, his small form deep in sleep.
Alira carefully untangled herself from fox and blanket. She blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light of the moons, and she quickly searched for Caramon and Raistlin. Caramon's familiar form was on the ground where she had seen him bed down the night before. Raistlin, however, was not where he was last night. The two brothers tended to sleep further from Alira...close enough that if she needed help they could aid her, but far enough to avoid any gender issues. But Raistlin was nowhere within her line of sight, and his blanket was on the ground in a rumpled heap.
Her curiosity got the best of her. Even after the surprise of last night...that kiss that still lingered and burned on her lips...she couldn't fight the desire to see where he had gone. Alira was so very confused, but she that at the very least, she had a responsibility.
Carefully, she made her way through the forest, surprised that Mischief stayed where he slept. She could see, ahead of her, a dark spot shaped rather like a man. Schooling her breathing, she drew Caramon's knife, which she had spirited from his sleeping shape. She told herself she might need it, just in case.
The man ahead of her was wearing robes like a mage would, and Alira was fairly certain it was Raistlin. But she was not going to take any chances, and she crept up quietly as any of her Elven kindred could. Slowly, she drew in a deep breath, carefully holding it. She slipped around in front of the man, noting that he stood perfectly still, his head tipped upward to the moons. She saw the glimmer of gold-tinged skin and slowly released her breath. It was Raistlin, for no other mage on Krynn had that golden skin. She lowered the knife, painfully aware that she had donned robes made of a much thinner material than usual...as the night was warm. She slipped it into the cord that served as a belt, and straightened. Alira was careful to move slowly, as she didn't want to startle Raistlin. As she stepped forward, he lowered his head...his queer eyes reaching hers. Alira couldn't read those eyes, but she could see a calm in his demeanor.
"Alira." He said, her name music on his tongue. That mouth, so used to the arcane words of magic, said her name sweetly as any sleep-spell. Alira nodded, acknowledging him, as she swallowed. Raistlin reached out to her, asking for her hand. As though caught in a spell, she extended her hand to him, allowing him to take hold of it. The familiar heat of his skin was soothing, and she followed gladly as he drew her near to him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, just holding her. Holding her. The world was gone as he held her, gently, and strong. She felt tears roll down her cheeks as she placed her head to his breast. His heart beat strongly, slowly. Quietly, she sobbed as he comforted her, stroking her hair with one hand. He murmured some prayer to Lunitari, begging the Lady of the Red Moon to heal Alira of her pain.
Alira did not know how long they stood there, nor did she ever know when he put her back where she slept, and tucked her in.
But her dreams were sweet that night.
When the morning finally arrived, Caramon woke Alira. Surprisingly, Alira felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders as they prepared to continue. Raistlin acted as he always did...while Caramon chatted with Alira. Alira was telling Caramon recipes, and giving him instructions, though she knew he would probably misremember them. She promised to teach him to cook properly. Raistlin would steal glimpses at her and Caramon from time to time, watching as Caramon made her laugh. The familiar pangs of jealousy tore through him. No matter what he did, it would always be Caramon who incited that beautiful laughter from her...it was Caramon with the ability to make her smile. And yet, he remembered the night before. Like a fairy spirit, she had appeared from the wood...full of inner pain and torment. His arms remembered her feel. His body remembered the mold of her frame. Lunitari had granted him that one wish, last night, and he could tell even now that Alira was free of the draconian. Clearly, it wasn't merely the idea of a draconian that frightened her...but the idea that her trust could be turned against her, and could be used to hurt her. But he, Raistlin, had done the thing that Caramon could never do. He had healed her.
They stopped for a meal halfway through the day. Alira recognized something. Not just something, but a road. She swore.
"Huh?" Caramon asked, as she left her food on the ground and began to walk away. "Has she gone mad?"
Raistlin hushed him as Alira started to speak rapidly.
"Slow down..." Raistlin said, stopping himself before he could even begin to say "dearheart."
"I recognize this area! We're near Qualinesti!"
"Is that where we're supposed to be going?" Caramon asked.
"It is now." Raistlin replied ominously.
That night, Caramon slept while Raistlin and Alira sat near the fire in silence. Both were aware of each other. Both felt the same, but their fool's caution kept them from acting. Until finally, Raistlin turned to Alira.
"Does the draconian still haunt your dreams?" he asked her, gentle and compassionate, rather than hissing. He stifled the cough that followed.
She turned to him, and smiled.
"Thank you." She said...but what they both heard was "I love you."