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   Chapter 40 No.40

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5357

Updated: 2018-07-10 12:03


It was just as she was teetering between dreaming and consciousness, that she heard a loud and sudden noise from nearby.

Ramana opened her eyes wide. The shock of such a racket so unexpected caused her heart to race. She sat up, looking in the direction where the noise had come from.

She rose and crossed the hall, entering her painting room; she saw what had caused the din.

Her favourite painting, the scene of woodland with a doe in the foreground, had been knocked off its easel, alongside a stack of paint pots that had been piled up nearby. There was a large puddle of red paint that stained an entire corner of the painting, around which were the footprints of a bird and a small child. These led to the culprits. Amaia stood guiltily at the back of the room, knowing she had done wrong, and holding her bird in her arms. Red paint still dripped from its feet onto her dress.

Ramana let go of the door handle, allowing the door to slowly swing open. She stood there, staring at her daughter in shocked silence.

Amaia was frozen, staring back, waiting for a reaction.

Ramana walked into the room, stepping over the painting and standing before her daughter.

She knelt down, and embraced her, holding Amaia tightly. Amaia sighing with relief that she was not being told off, held her mother back with one arm, still holding the bird with the other.

'Why don't you play outside Amaia?' Ramana suggested kindly.

'What for?'

Ramana slapped her lightly, running her hand across Amaia's cheek as her daughter tried to squirm away.

'Because' Ramana said, laughing at the paint she had just smeared across her daughter's face. 'We don't want you make a mess of the house do we?'

'Don't we?' Amaia argued, escaping from her grasp and grabbing an entire pot of paint nearby. 'But it would be more fun inside.'

She threw the entire contents of the pot at her mother, covering her in a layer of sloppy pink.

'Amaia!' Ramana screamed in shock. She fell silent quickly however, noticing several more pots unopened beside her.

Amaia noticed this, screaming in false terror and running from the room as her mother reached out for another pot. The bird Amaia had dropped scurried after her, and the two fled from the room, with Ramana hot on their tails.

Just outside the little town, a group of soldiers were returning home. Their pace slow, Farrell, Arlen and Brice were among them. They began to split, each heading their own separate way home after a long day of travelling and fighting. Even the horses seemed grateful at the familiar sights of the buildings ahead of them.

'Lords I'm glad to be back' Arlen huffed.

'We were only

gone for a day' Brice argued.

'I know' Arlen replied. 'But I'm getting so bored with the same old routine.'

'And I'm getting bored with your constant whining' Brice shot.

'Enough' Farrell interrupted loudly. 'Stop it both of you.'

Arlen scowled at them, tapping the heels of his horse and trotting away.

'Gods what's the matter with him?' Brice grumbled.

'Don't let him get to you' Farrell told his brother. 'He will only do it more.'

They walked their horses onwards for a short distance before Brice spoke again.

'I will see you next time brother' Brice smiled as he turned his horse down another path.

'When next we fight maybe' Farrell nodded back. 'Or perhaps sooner.'

Farrell made his way back home, and Brice made his way back to his. When Brice entered the kitchen of his home, he was greeted by his wife.

'Oh' he said suddenly, as a thought struck him.

'Is everything alright husband?' Alice asked.

'Yes. I just remembered that I lent Farrell my shield. I'd better go and get it.'

'It can wait until tomorrow surely' Alice reasoned.

'I'll be quick' Brice said kissing her briskly. 'I'm sure you'll be fine until I get back.'

Farrell walked up the long path to his home, unloading Alastor and releasing him into the field. The horse immediately began to prance around him mares, tossing his head proudly. Foals were scattered throughout the field now, some played together, others stuck close to their mothers, and Alastor the mighty stallion, watched over his heard with pride. Some of the foals were black like their father. They would fetch a very high price when they matured, so valuable that black horses were.

'How lucky you are' Farrell said to him, 'to have so many children and a family to protect.'

Alastor was a good father to his foals, attentive and gentle with his offspring.

Farrell smirked at the stallion, reaching down to the saddle he had unloaded from the horse, he realised suddenly that he still had the shield he had borrowed from Brice. He quickly put it away in the stables with the saddle, deciding he would give it back later. He made his way back to his home.

When he entered the door, what he saw before him made him freeze in shock.

'What the hell…?!'

Paint of rainbow colours had been thrown all over the house, all over the entrance hall, up and down the stairs, the chandeliers, the corridors and all the furniture and walls.

'Ramana!' Farrell cried in fury. 'What have you done?!'

'Heads up!' came a voice from above him.

Farrell jerked his head up suddenly to the balcony above him, just as Ramana emptied the entire contents of a paint pot over his head.

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