The Butcher of Gadobhra

Chapter 371: Pomeline and the Captain

Winter had come, and Pomeline hated it, for Winter was cruel.

More than once, she had lost a friend when a dryad's tree died in her grove during winter's cold and wind. Ice would crack boughs, and wind would uproot a weakened tree. The grove would lose a tree that had lived for hundreds of years, and the dryads would mourn their friend for many seasons. When her own tree had died from a lightning strike, she'd known that Winter would mean her death. She couldn't survive the cold outside of the tree that lay on the ground, burnt and dead. Only the miracle of a Master woodwright coming to her aid had saved her. Her tree became a tea house that nourished and protected her spirit. Now, snug and warm inside her home, protected by the hamlet, she could wait inside until Spring came again. In the beginning, she avoided contact with the humans, but day by day, she had come out of her shell and now enjoyed it when friends came by to talk. One in particular made her heart sing.

As was usual, she was waiting for her woodwright to visit. She had brewed a pot of tea made from apples and ghost peppers, a beverage that he preferred for its flavor and heat. She sat and waited during the long, cold morning, becoming anxious, but finally, he came. His steps were slow as he walked through the cold, bundled in so many furs that the villages chuckled and shook their heads. Winter was just beginning; to the farmers, it was merely cool and crisp. But it was painful and deadly to a Captain from the Smoke as the winds slowed him and stole heat from his furnace. He stayed by the small peat fire and drank his tea for almost an hour before he spoke. Pomeline didn't mind. She had the patience of a tree, and only with Woodrat did she speak more than was needed to serve her tea and be polite.

Finally, he turned to her, and the sadness in his eyes told the story. "I must leave and return to the Smoke. The cold will be the death of my crew and my ship. We cannot abide here much longer and survive."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You could stay here with me. It is warm in this house."

He looked around and smiled. It was true; he could be warm here. "But then I would not be who I am. I have a ship and a crew, and I can't abandon them. But you could come with me?" contemporary romance

She smiled sadly, her heart made glad that he had asked. "I could, but I would not be me for long. My roots are here, part of this house, buried deep in the ground and drawing sustenance from the village. Even if we took wood from the house along with us, it would not be enough. I would perish in a season or less, dried by the smoke and heat. I could live only on Evergreen's island, and you could not stay unless you gave up your ship."

He poured more tea and laughed softly, but his voice had little humor. "What a pair we make. But you are right. I could not abide long on her islandtoo rigid and too many rules. I'd cause trouble, and she'd toss me to the waves in a month to regain her peace. And the sword has a quest that needs fulfilling."

"You will return?"

"I will when Winter has left, and I will be back, with a fat cargo that will take time to sell so I can tarry here with you and drink tea while we talk."

She smiled, happier this time. "Then that will have to do. I will be here when you return."

He stayed as long as he could, but he began his long walk back in the afternoon. When the sun left, the heat would fade even quicker. He took with him jars of dried apple blossoms and a small sapling that he would present to the Queen of Nature so that part of the grove here would flourish in her forests. Pomeline watched him go for as long as she could. Then she returned to her house, hid in a corner where no one could see her, and cried.

Winter was cruel. She had known that and thought she had known all the ways Winter could bring death. But today, the winds had found a new way to hurt her, a new kind of death. She would mourn her Captain until he returned. It would be a cycle of sad partings and joyous reunions. Life and Death, until the time he would leave and never return.f reeweb .com