Crickets
Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me.
"Kel?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you awake?"
Kel rolled over. "For you, always."
Aly's smile was apparent, even in the dark. "Flirt," she accused.
"No, that's you," replied Kel earnestly.
Aly laughed softly before being quiet for a time, long enough that Kel could hear crickets chirp and the mellow calls of owls flitting about on their nightly hunt. Even the ripple of a nearby stream reached her ears.
"Kel?" said Aly again.
"I'm here." She turned to face her.
"My mother knows I've been spending time with you, Kel," said Aly. "It pleases her; you know how much she likes you."
Kel said nothing, knowing it was better to let Aly find her own words rather than steer her, possibly away from what she really wished to talk about.
"I'm not sure I like it, Kel. No, it's not that I'm ashamed of you, or that I don't want people to know about us. It's nothing like that."
She hadn't thought it was.
"You know how she is, Kel," said Aly, her voice falling into the tone of a long-suffering routine. "She wishes I was different than I am, and she always has. Even now, when she -- ostensibly! -- accepts me, I can tell she wishes I'd been different. That I'd been…" she hesitated, "more like you."
Kel was suddenly acutely reminded of a tilting match of long ago. She knew the feeling, yet she didn't want to say as much. There were few people Aly could talk about her mother with, she knew this, and she wanted to be one of those people.
"I'm gladder when she doesn't mind the people I'm with. You've no idea how exhausting it is keeping company your family disapproves of," she confided.
Kel thought she did.
"But… " Aly hesitated again. "As good as it is to know she's not scowling at my back whenever I leave the house, I'm not sure I like why she likes that you're my friend. You know?" she turned to her and looked at her closely, anxiously.
"I think I do," replied Kel softly.
"Am I being needlessly mistrustful of my mother?" demanded Aly suddenly.
"No more than usual," answered Kel with a smile.
Aly slapped her shoulder. "This is serious," she chided.
"The very future of our relationship hangs in the balance," agreed Kel too earnestly.
Aly pouted in response.
"You're being silly, love," said Kel, tilting her head slightly. "Don't take this too seriously. What is the worst of it? Perhaps your mother wishes us to be close, so that I may rub off on you and make you more respectable. What of it, then? We were close before your mother knew of it, weren't we? I've never tried to make you be anyone but yourself, and there is no reason why I should start now. Not even for the Lioness. And all this, for something you imagine your mother might be thinking."
"It would be just like her to think that too!" bristled Aly, pulling away from Kel to sit up in her bedroll.
"If she's anything at all like me, she loves you for who you are, not who you're not," said Kel quietly.
Slowly, Aly sank back down among the covers, looking vaguely abashed. "She's not at all like you, come to think about it," she objecting finally. "I like you much better."
"That's good to know," murmured Kel offhandedly, already sleepy.
Aly pulled the bedroll covers back up and snuggled against her, back into the circle of campground that was even and free of small stones. Kel had cleared them away before she had spread out their bedroll earlier that evening, and the smooth dirt was easier on both their backs.
"Definitely much better," she said into Kel's neck, sneaking one arm around her.
"I take this conversation to mean, your mother doesn't know just how close we are," said Kel.
There was a short silence, and again they could both hear the sounds of nocturnal animals and breaths of night wind around their camp. Far away a wolf howled, was answered by another and soon many more.
"Tomorrow," said Aly finally. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."
Kel's sigh was barely audible. "Alright, love," she said kissing her hairline lightly.
