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The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5053

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:03

Shawn smirked back at the man, clearly amused.

'You're a strange one' Shawn said.

'Oh I'm going to sleep' Farrell huffed loudly, rising quickly from his seat and grabbing his blankets as he went.

He found a spot away from the others, lying down on a relatively soft and even patch of earth to rest.

Feeling the gentle warmth of the fire against his back, he spared one last glance towards Arlen, who remained where he sat, before sighing deeply, and giving himself up to his dreams.

'Find me…'

The next morning he woke early and abruptly, hearing the sound of food cooking behind him.

Rolling over he saw one of the mercenaries making his breakfast. Everyone else was still sleeping, save for Arlen. He was nowhere to be seen.

'Are you hungry?' the red haired mercenary asked Farrell.


The mercenary held out a plate for him, and Farrell took it, staring down at the sausages. He glanced up at the man.

'Carrot is it?' he asked.

'Yes' the mercenary nodded, speaking in a thick accent. 'That it seems is to be my new name.'

Farrell nodded.

'Is that food?' came a loud voice. 'Do I smell food?'

Farrell could not stifle a groan as Barrel woke suddenly, leaping to his feet and dashing towards the fire.

'Sausages!' he cried. 'I love sausages!'

Beside Farrell, Shawn woke, groaning and rubbing his eyes, his brow furrowed at the disturbance.

'What's the noise for?' he mumbled as he sat up.

'Dammit Barrel!' Woodworm snapped loudly as he sat bolt upright. 'Can't you keep your mouth shut for a bloody change?'

Carrot sighed as the two began to argue. Neither Blunkit, Flunkit nor Flute Stick seemed bothered by this as they rose, heading slowly to the fire and taking turns in cooking their breakfasts.

It was not long after that when Arlen returned, walking into the group; he ignored Barrel who struggled in a headlock, fighting to save his breakfast that Woodworm was trying to steal from him.

'There you are' Carrot voiced. 'The man who never sleeps.'

'We're going' Arlen declared.

'Now?' Shawn asked curiously. 'Why so soon?'

'I'm anxious to get there as fast as possible' Arlen replied. 'If this woman is really Amaia….I don't want to lose her again.'

Farrell watched his brother as he spoke, thinking how strange it was that even out here, he applied the heavy black makeup around his eyes. He looked so different to the man he once knew, the scars, the beard, the broken nose…

Shawn yawned loudly as the group packed up their camp swi

ftly, loading up the horses and setting off with Arlen leading the way.

It was a full moon on the night they arrived at their destination. Blunkit and Flunkit went away to find an inn to sleep that night, and a short time later, Farrell was lying on his back on the bed in an unfamiliar room, staring up at the ceiling. Quickly through exhaustion, he fell into a deep sleep and began to dream.

'Find me…'

When he woke, light was pouring into his tiny room. It was morning.

Farrell was ashamed to realise he had been the last to rise. By the time he had dressed and gone downstairs, the bar was silent, save for a lone figure quietly tidying one of the tables in the corner of the room. Farrell guessed her to be the barman's daughter or some other close relation, she shared a striking resemblance to the tired-eyed man they spoke to the night before. He paid her no attention as he crossed the room, stepping outside into the bright day beyond the dim ambience of the inn behind him. It was already nearly midday, and every man and woman that Farrell saw from where he stood in the doorway moved swiftly. The place they had come to was a simple village, smaller than the home he once lived but built over a wider area. The people dressed in practical clothes, the women had their hair tied up, and the more that Farrell looked around him, the more he begun to feel homesick.

'Farrell!' called Shawn from nearby. 'There you are.'

'Where are the others?' Farrell asked him as Shawn jogged up to him.

'Don't know' he shrugged. 'They're about somewhere looking for her. Danior said that she would be easy to find, he said a blind child could find her.'

'You haven't found her yet have you?' Farrell answered flatly, guessing from the tone of Shawn's voice.

'No' he shook his head. 'Not yet.'

It was several hours later, nearly two o'clock in the afternoon, that Farrell and Shawn found themselves sitting upon a low wall watching the men and women in the field work. Farrell watched a young girl lifting a surprisingly large bale of hay and carrying it across the field without too much effort. Once she had put it down where she wanted, she turned to get another. Farrell thought then of what life could have been like if things had been different. Perhaps his daughter could have been that girl, and not the pampered little darling she had been raised as. He realised then that as long as he had known her, Amaia had never worked a day in her life, or done any work in any form for that matter.

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