Page 57 of Between Soul and Vessel
A voice within me answered,Yes.
“Come on, it’s been a long flight, and I can tell we have much to discuss,” Artemesia spoke softly as she began to walk ahead, Vatara at her side.
I followed after her.
When we reached the edge of the camp, a young girl who was rolling a ball of snow jerked her head up, looking at us. Her face lit with joy as she offered us a big toothy grin. Scrambling to her feet, she raced to the tent closest to her and yelled, “Chieftain Artemesia is back!”
A man and a woman came racing out, their expressions shifting from concern to relief when they saw my sister. The woman took the little girl’s hand while the man went to another tent. Quickly, people began to spill out from it. Two boys who came from that tent dashed to another. More smiling faces emerged from the one they ran to. This process was repeated until nearly everyone stood in front of their tents.
A man with chestnut hair and a sturdy build walked up to us and embraced Artemesia. “I am so happy you are back, chieftain.”
“I am too,” she replied, returning the hug before she took a step back. “This is my sister, Sage. Sage, this isNovack.”
Novack bowed his head. “It is an honor. I have heard a great deal about you.”
“All bad things, of course, like when you lost my favorite hunting bow,” Artemesia jabbed. She let out a dramatic sigh. “I still think about that bow to this day.”
A memory flashed before my eyes—of me and Artemesia in our shared chambers, in our family’s summer home.
“I didn’t take it,” I said as I stoked the coals in the fireplace.
“I don’t believe you,” she stated.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t take it,” I sighed, putting the wrought-iron fireplace poker in the cradle that held the rest of its kin.
“Did it just sprout legs and walk out on its own?” Her voice was sarcastic.
“I mean, it could have. It was enchanted, after all.” I shrugged.
She crouched beside me, the flames casting an orange glow across her face. “It went missing the same day you did. Just . . . tell me what happened. I don’t even care about the bow.”
“Sage?” Artemesia asked, her voice threaded with concern.
“Sorry, I think I’m getting some of my memories back,” I replied, letting out a breath of air that made a small cloud.
“We have much to talk about,” she said with a softsmile. Turning to Novack, she asked, “Can you let Millie know we’ve returned and have her prepare some food for us?”
“Of course,” he answered, leaning in to give her a kiss.
She didn’t move to meet him. Instead, she pressed her finger against his nose, smooshing it, and effectively stopping him from advancing any further.
For a brief second, he went cross-eyed, peering down at her finger. Redness tinged his cheeks. Retreating, he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ll go see about that food.” He quickly scurried away.
When he was out of earshot, I whispered to my sister, “That was awkward.”
In agreement, Vatara let out a screech.
“It was,” Artemesia said, petting her. She lowered her voice. “I slept with him once and now he thinks we’re an item. I’m going to have to have a talk with him.”
Vatara and I nodded.
For the next half an hour or so, Artemesia introduced me to the clan. They all seemed so relieved to have her back home. I could tell they thought a great deal about her. Somewhere throughout the many introductions, Vatara got bored, unfurled her wings, and flew off into the trees. During our journey here, Artemesia had shared with me that Vatara hated being in human form—it felt suffocating to her—so ninety-nine percent of the time, her gryphon form was what she donned.
As night fell, Artemesia walked me over to a pair of tents and pointed at one. “That one is mine.” Her fingermoved to the other. “And this one is yours.”
On the outside, the tent appeared to be no bigger than a carriage, but when we stepped inside, it was huge. A light tinge of magic hung in the air, which explained the tent’s shift in size, as well as the radiating heat. A few cabinets sat beside a table surrounded by four wooden chairs, an armoire, and a couple sizable chests. A large bed covered in fur pelts, its frame made from stripped logs, sat off to the left, flanked by end tables.
“These should have some clothes in them,” she said, walking over to the armoire. She pulled the doors open, showing me the garments inside—cotton tunics, a few pairs of trousers, a jacket, and a white cloak trimmed with reddish-brown fur. “Nothing too fancy.”
