Still, he couldn’t deny that the offer had its allure. He wasn’t the only person in the settlement she’d bedded, though her numbers were nowhere near his own. It was nice that one of his many temporary lovers actually considered him “forever” material. He’d wished for it often enough, to be more than just desired. Maybe even to be loved. Cherished. Kept.
“I think we could be happy.” Mina sighed, though, shoulders rounding.
He squeezed her hand, heart aching. What if she doesn’t thank me for this? What if she resents me? What if she never wants to talk to me again? “I’m looking forward to my wandering life. What is it you want, for yours?”
“You’re right,” was all she said by way of answer. “I know you are. I just—we would make a very pretty little family, don’t you think?”
He chuckled, but it felt nervous. Telling people no was not his forte. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it. On the one hand, it was nice to know he could. On the other: What if she stops talking to me? Should I kiss her? Should I flirt to lighten the mood? To make her feel wanted? To make sure she doesn’t walk away and never look back?
No, though. That’d be cruel, even if he wasn’t sure why. It felt wrong, even though it was his first instinct. It was always his first instinct. “I’m not the settling down type. I didn’t realize that you wished I was. I’m sorry.”
“No, please.” Her smile brightened a little. “If you were, you wouldn’t be you. And it’s you I like. You’ve always been a good friend. And a good lay.”
They shared a laugh at that, and it undid a few of Dagan’s stomach-knots.
“I’m a nester, you’re a wanderer,” she added after a moment.
And yet, the promise of being loved, of being permanently kept, tethered to someone who was all his, not shared or sharing was…delicious. But he couldn’t have it both ways. And he hadn’t trained this hard to give it all up for something that wasn’t even love.
That would be madness.
Wouldn’t it?
Chapter 2: Black Walnut Grove Settlement, Heart Wood, Summer, Buck Moon Waxing
For the rest of the week, Dagan stuck to the groves around the family home. Friends might stop by, notes might arrive asking for a visit, offers of drinks and revelry might roll in, but Dagan wasn’t there to accept or refuse any of them. Whichever family member intercepted these kind messages, they all knew to politely say that Dagan was preparing for his first scouting trip and would return for the send-off party.
Was it cowardly of him not to refuse them all in person? Yes, obviously, it was. Was he vaguely terrified that ducking his friends might mean he lost some of them? Oh, without a doubt.
But touring the groves with Nika as they proudly showed off how far their lifecasting had come, visiting his brother Tiber’s little cabin by the waterfall to see the baby, scouring the woods for wild herbs with Korina, then tying them up in bunches over the kitchen hearth, all these things and more, Dagan needed. He needed them for himself, part preparation for a long moon of lonely trekking, part time for reflection.
The morning before the party, Dagan came into the common room to see a familiar head of long, wavy ginger hair at the breakfast table with his family. This was one guest he wasn’t about to duck. He’d never been happier to see them, in fact. “Innan!”
They turned, a small smile already playing across their pale lips. “Oh, you are here, after all.”
“Come here!”
Innan stood and came to him, arms wide, and Dagan met them halfway to wrap them up. They always smelled of strawberries and fresh grass, in spite of spending most of their time deep in a dusty cave.
“I wouldn’t miss your send-off,” Innan said into his ear, voice light with laughter.
Dagan pulled back, holding them at arm’s length to get a good look. Almost as pale as snow, ginger as a carrot, and eyes so green they belonged on a cat, Innan had always been easy on the eyes. “You look so good.”
“Your mother says I look too thin.” Innan chuckled, tugging at Dagan’s braid playfully. “Anyhow, look who’s talking.”
“You are too thin!” Mother said from the table.
“You think everyone’s too thin,” Dagan pointed out, turning them both toward the door. “Come on, Innan, catch me up on everything. It’s been an age.”
“Two ages, at least.”
“Won’t you eat breakfast, Dags?” Mother called, voice high with distress.
Dagan held up a hand. “Iason?”
A fluffy grain-bread roll flew across the room. Dagan snatched it out of the air, then waved with it as he led Innan out the door. Once they were outside, he started toward the groves. “Sorry to rush you out, but I want you all to myself. They’ve already had you this morning. When did you get here?”
Innan chuckled. “Just after sunup. Traveled all night.”
“You must be exhausted.”
Innan shook their head. “Anyhow, I’d rather hear about you. How’d the final tests go?”
Dagan began recounting his achievements just as animatedly as he had for a winery full of friends. They found a large tree to lean against, shoulder-to-shoulder, and planted themselves in the ground to chatter and watch the morning fog burn off. When Dagan had told his tale, he asked Innan, “And you? How’s earthsinging lately?”
“I was about to ask you the same about lifecasting. You left that bit out of the tests,” they replied, plucking a few long strands of grass and comparing the lengths with pale, nimble fingers.
“I’m adequate. I’m no Alonza, though.” He snorted.
“For which we’re all grateful. Earthsinging is lovely. The Council wants me to visit the Wildcrafter settlement next moon to do some work for them,” the said.
“Me too.” Dagan frowned. “Wonder what’s going on?”
Innan shrugged, rubbing their shoulder against Dagan’s. “They’ll let us know when they want to, I suppose.”
“You’re so philosophical about it.” If he didn’t know them, it’d be maddening, Dagan was pretty sure.
“You’ve got more immediate things to think about. Are you ready for your first scouting trip?” Innan grinned, flashing pointed canines that lent their adorable face a certain feral quality.
