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   Chapter 191 No.191

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5123

Updated: 2018-07-11 19:03


White Feather glided towards her, touching her chin.

'And watch you suffer travelling this distance alone?'

'There is nothing to gain by sharing in my discomfort.'

'If I cannot help to ease your burden' White Feather spoke, 'then I shall share it. Like I already told you'

'That's very sweet of you' Amaia said. 'But foolish.'

'Foolish' White Feather repeated. 'But pleasing.'

'Pleasing?'

'It pleases me to make you happy' White Feather clarified. 'However foolish.'

Amaia smiled. 'You're funny.'

'Come' he said, taking her by the hand. 'Let us take you home.'

As they drew closer to the small town, Amaia began to feel more and more nervous.

'Are you alright Amaia?' White Feather inquired, walking by her side, still holding her hand. 'You seem tense.'

Amaia slowed to a stop, letting go of him.

'I feel like I am walking into this town for the very first time. I know you tell me that I've been here before, I know that I told you of my past before I lost my memory. But…..' she broke off. 'I remember nothing of this place……so why do I feel so uneasy?'

'Because' White Feather said, grasping her shoulders lightly, 'memories stir within you. It is normal to be nervous. It's been so long since you've been here.'

'I'm glad to have you by my side' Amaia voiced. 'I could not do this without you. This moment….I'm just glad you're here.'

'Come now' White Feather teased. 'Let us not waste time. You've been away from home for far too long as it is.'

'Do you think my father will be here?' Amaia asked.

'Perhaps' White Feather replied vaguely.

Amaia took a deep breath. 'Then that makes me as nervous as ever.'

'Why?'

'Because' Amaia glanced at the creature by her side. 'The last years I knew him, he was not the man…was not the father I once knew him to be.'

She strode forwards, onwards towards her hometown.

They entered its ground, White Feather close behind her now, as Amaia explored the town, her old home, and reacquainted herself with her past.

'It's small' Amaia said quietly, as they walked slowly by the houses.

'It's a small town' White Feather replied.

'It's smaller than I remember it.'

'You were younger back then' White Feather replied. 'Things would have seemed bigger to you.'

Amaia moved tentatively by the modest houses with their thatched roofs. There were no clear roads of any kind around them and between the houses, only dirt tracks.

'It's…' Amaia began, looking about her, 'it's…' She paused then, raising her head up towards the hilltop where th

ere were two large manors, the kind of which could only have been owned by wealthy hands. Amaia glanced from one to the other. 'One of these is mine' she said.

Her pace began to quicken, as she headed towards one of the manors.

'It's this one' she said.

'What of the other?' White Feather asked curiously beside her.

'It belongs to my mother's father……well…it did before he died. I don't know who lives there now.'

'You're beginning to remember?' White Feather asked her, eyes lighting up.

'Yes' Amaia replied. 'It's slowly coming back to me.'

They entered the grounds of the manor. Amaia hesitated as they reached the path. She glanced either side of her at the fields. Once upon a time, Alastor lived here. Once upon a time he would graze upon the grass and prance around protectively around his mares and foals. Now, the fields lay empty, the grass overgrown and the fences neglected and falling apart.

Sadness filled Amaia's heart, seeing this place once to grand, now fallen into such ruins. She felt suddenly unhappy.

She walked forwards, down the path and towards the old home. Amaia entered through the front door, and stepped inside.

Inside, it felt dead, felt empty. There was no furniture, and dust covered most of what was around her, and the floors once beautiful and clean, were now muddied with footprints.

'This is not how I remember it' Amaia spoke, broken hearted. 'What happened to this place?'

'I imagine your father fell on hard times' White Feather replied sombrely from behind her. 'After……when you…'

The pair moved through the house silently, surveying everything around them. And Amaia…..

Amaia remembered.

She remembered these corridors where she used to run. She remembered how she was constantly told off by her father for it, and how she time and again ignored him.

And then she saw something, a painting.

Amaia stifled a sob, White Feather quickly rushed to her side, putting an arm around her shoulders.

They exchanged a glance, before looking back up at the painting.

The edges of the painting was dark like shadows, a gentle orange glow was in the centre, lighting up the small family of three in the middle. Farrell stood with his arm around Ramana, the two of them standing close, and between them, stood Amaia, still just a child. All three of them were smiling. All three of them looked happy.

'It's beautiful' Amaia whispered, not trusting her voice not to break as the tears ran down her cheeks. 'This is the first time I have seen my mother since that day.'

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