A mysterious past, an unrequited love, and a desperate need to find himself, fifteen-year-old Kalyn has enough to occupy him without being on the verge of a massive societal upheaval. Join Kalyn and his friends as they explore what it means to come...
Though I have never seen these lands, I do not need anyone to tell me that we are growing nearer to Sunia. The place is a veritable Eden. The grass grows long and plush beneath our feet. Some even take off their shoes to feel the pillowy turf against their aching soles. So far removed is it from the parched and spiny wilderness through which we have made our way these past several weeks, we are overwhelmed with gratitude for the strange land.
Flowering fruit trees sprout all around us. It takes nothing to reach up and pluck a meal from the overhanging limbs, to drown in the rapturous sweetness of the juices. We eat to our content as our caravan travels.
Unlike Balai, there are no walls. No guards. Houses and welcoming faces cluster closer together as we near the center of town. Clean, drinkable water flows from fountains. Open air markets barter food and trinkets in unhurried abundance. Children frolic, unafraid of the passing strangers, watched loosely by parents who share their automatic trust in us. Here is a place where no one wonders what might be taken. Here, there is enough here for all.
The air is ripe with the fragrance of the blossoms. Petals drift on the breeze. Each home boasts a spectacular garden. The desire to grow plants for pure aesthetic is foreign to my practical farmer's mind, born of necessity, but everything seems to thrive and find value here, the beautiful as well as the useful.
The villagers make light conversation with us, and, when it is discovered that our feet are blistered, our skin scraped and burned, from our travels, they lead us to the center of town. We are instructed to wait on the blooming veranda. We regard their generosity with disbelief.
Onlookers cluster around us, offering food and water in exchange for stories. My shoes are removed, and a girl with lustrous, raven hair stoops to tend to my battered feet. Deft fingers massage and soothe. An herbal-smelling paste is rubbed into my wounds, and I sigh with pleasure. It is so much better than the ointments I have managed to mix together of my own limited knowledge, and I tell her so.
I am silenced by her deep, blue eyes as they meet mine. Her skin seems kissed by the sun. I have never seen such a face before, and I stumble over my words of admiration. The girl rises, seemingly unaware of how it flusters me, and wipes the remaining medicine on her apron.
"I'm Ohna," she tells me. "And I wouldn't take it too hard. My family has studied the healing properties of these plants for generations." She caresses a leaf with ardent affection. "They only grow here. Our people consider them a gift from the heavens." I get to my feet, anticipating a sting, but am surprised to feel nothing save the ground beneath my soles. Shifting my shoes to one hand, I shake hers.
"Ohna," I say, awestruck. "Thank you! This is incredible. Your village... It is so beautiful."
This compliment, directed at her home as opposed to her, wins a bright smile.
"It is, isn't it?" It is clear that she knows the answer without my floundering attempts at flattery. "Come, let me show it to you." I leave my shoes with Teak and catch a wary look from Mab as I depart gladly with the stranger.
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