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The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 4677

Updated: 2018-07-11 19:03

'I still love her' Arlen said after a time. 'I still love Ramana. I still think about her……even after all this time.'

'Yeah' Farrell said meekly. 'Me too.'

'Do you remember how she used to laugh?'

'Cackle you mean.'

Arlen smiled.

Farrell took a deep breath before speaking next.

'Arlen' he said, half-turning to him. 'Do you still hate me?'

'Yes' Arlen replied shortly.

'But…you saved my life earlier…that bolt…'

'Was fired by the man that stood beside me' Arlen finished. 'The hooded one. My shot missed.'

'But you still fired the shot' Farrell pressed. 'You were trying to help me.'

Arlen faced him now.

'Why would you bother if you didn't even care?' Farrell asked him.

'Amaia would want you to live' Arlen answered. He made to leave.

'Arlen' Farrell said sharply, stopping him. 'Do you remember when you saved my life many years ago, from that same creature you fought and killed earlier? You stood between the creature and me, you protected me….do you remember that?'


'I know you remember' Farrell insisted as Arlen tried to leave again. 'I just wanted to ask you….what were you thinking at the time? Why did you do it….? I have to know.'

Arlen turned back to him.

'At the time…' he said, 'nothing else mattered.'

He left then. Farrell did not try to stop him.

Farrell looked to the sky above him. The clouds shone in pink and yellow light, before a sky that was faded blue.

'Amaia…' he spoke aloud. 'Where are you?'

He took the paper hidden in his pocket, something he had carried the whole two months he had been imprisoned and tortured. He held it open with his one good hand. His injured hand had healed, but he would be crippled forever.

Farrell looked at the picture. It was the picture that man had drawn him, of what Amaia might look like now.

Farrell held it before him, staring blankly at the charcoal face, eyes distant.

He opened his fingers; the paper slipped from his grasp and sailed away in the breeze, floating down the rocky slope, towards the earth and away.

It was shortly after when Farrell slept, that he dreamed.

'Here' Farrell said, 'for you.'

Ramana lifted her beautiful eyes to him, gazing lovingly at her husband. Ignoring the bowl of fruit he held out to her, instead she leapt at him, knocking him onto his back an

d leaning over him.

'Hey!' he protested, still holding onto the bowl clumsily and trying not to spill the contents. 'Be careful, you don't want me to…'

His words were cut off as she kissed him, long and deep. Farrell moaned in pleasure, kissing her back and running his free hand down her body. Her long black hair fell about her face, shielding them from the world.

'Not again!' came a voice of complaint.

Ramana leant back away from Farrell, grinning guiltily to their daughter. Farrell stayed on his back for a moment, staring up into the perfect blue sky above, catching his breath and calming his racing heart.

He sat up, seeing Ramana pinching Amaia's cheeks and trying to kiss her. Amaia squealed in alarm and tried to escape. Ramana instead wrapped her arms around Amaia and squeezed her, kissing her several times on the cheek as the little green bird Yayew ran in circles around them squawking.

'Nooooo!' Amaia cried desperately trying to get away from her. 'Let me go!'

'But I love you' Ramana said innocently, after attacking her mercilessly with kisses for several seconds. She ceased her assault now, simply holding her. Amaia's little body clutched to her own. 'My daughter' Ramana breathed. 'My precious treasure.' She whispered into her ear. 'I love you so much…'

'Let me go!' Amaia gasped. 'I can't breathe!'

Ramana released Amaia suddenly, causing Amaia to fall ungracefully back onto the picnic blanket. The bird instantly quietened once Amaia had been released, clambering awkwardly to sit on her lap.

Farrell reached into the basket beside them as they sat, the tall grass in the meadow swayed gently around them in the warm breeze. He lifted a bottle of wine, pouring a glass and offering it to Amaia.

'Would you like to try some?' he said to her. 'It's what grownups drink.'

Amaia's expression instantly lit up, and her eyes grew like saucers as she stared at the deep red liquid.

She reached tiny hands towards it, but before she could grasp it, Ramana's hand shot out. She slapped the glass out of Farrell's hand, frowning furiously at him.

'Amaia is too young to drink that stuff' she glowered.

'Nonsense' Farrell sang back at her, ignoring the fallen glass that seeped wine onto their picnic blanket, staining the fabric. 'Brice gives his son wine all the time.'

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