Saturday, January 5, 2013
Sunday Snapshot: After the Dance
So, here's my Sunday Snapshot. What are you working on? Will you share a sample with me?
As the crowd dispersed from the betrothal announcement, Faldur took her hand as naturally as if he were accustomed to doing so and guided her to a seat in the entry, which was cooled by air pouring through the open doors. It felt lovely after the crush of bodies inside. He moved stiffly.
“Are you well, Faldur?”
“Just a bit sore. It is nothing.”
Worry hitched in her chest. “That looks like Durken’s jacket.”
“It is. Would you like something to eat?”
“Sit and rest. I’ll get some for both of us.”
He huffed out a breath. “I am perfectly well. Allow me, this once, to do my duty toward you.”
She opened her mouth to protest.
There was such earnestness and pained dignity in his weathered face that she acquiesced.“Very well.”
She watched his lean figure merge into the throng heading towards the newly refreshed tables. He wasn’t limping, but he was clearly hurting. Why would he not tell her anything? Her father had hidden nothing from her, or at least she believed he hadn’t. She had been sixteen when he died, barely more than a child. Faldur had helped her and her mother move out of the captain’s cabin at the ranger post to make room for the next family and seen that they had all they needed until Lord and Lady Tarnbel invited them to stay. Faldur had been like an older brother to her all these years, though in her heart something more tender took root and grew unnoticed by him.