Page 32 of A Kingdom's Heart
I watched them for a moment. The breeze lifted the edge of Elara’s dress as she walked, her pale hair catching the sunlight.
Something about it held my attention longer than it should have.
It wasn’t just her appearance. It was the careful way she moved, as if every step meant something. There was grace in it, but also distance, like she was somewhere else entirely.
The feeling unsettled me. I drew a slow breath and looked away, pushing the thought aside.
“Come on,” I said to Eric. “Let’s see what has the farmers so uneasy.”
He grinned, already walking ahead. “Lead the way, Sir William.”
We crossed the field, the soil soft under our boots. The farmers shifted as we passed, their eyes following us but their mouths staying shut. A few nodded in greeting, but most just went back to their work, slower than before.
The wind carried the smell of hay and damp earth. The chickens scattered as we walked past the coops, their wings brushing the dust into the air. A few wagons sat empty by the fence, one with a broken wheel still leaning against it.
Something felt off. Not danger exactly, but unease that hung heavy, the kind that didn’t come from simple work.
Eric glanced around, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. “Strange,” he said quietly. “No one’s talking.”
“They’re hiding something,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “Or waiting for something.”
We kept walking until we reached the far end of the field. One of the sheds stood there, its door half open, creaking softly in the wind. I pushed it aside.
Inside was a mess. Tools thrown in a pile, sacks split open, and
the ground was dark with something that looked like tar or oil.
Eric crouched, pressing two fingers into it. “Fresh,” he said. “Smells like pitch.”
I knelt beside him. The scent was strong, sharp enough to sting. “They were burning something.”
He looked at the walls. There were marks there, deep, deliberate.
Not the kind made by accident.
Eric stood, brushing the dirt from his gloves. “Guess we gotta report that to the captain.”
I nodded, eyes scanning the field again. The farmers had gone back to their work, but every so often one of them looked over their shoulder, watching us.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “We will.”
I straightened, letting my hand fall from the wall. The smell of tar still clung to the air.
“Our work’s done here,” I said. “We’ll report what we found and move on. The captain wanted us in Branhollow before nightfall.”
Eric nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Right. The village near the old mill.”
“That’s the one.”
We stepped out into the sunlight again, the shed door creaking closed behind us. The farmers had spread out across the field, pretending to work, but their eyes followed us all the same.
Eric gave a low whistle. “They’re nervous. Either they know
something, or they’re the reason for it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “The captain will handle it.”
We crossed back through the rows of wheat until the horses came into view. Corven snorted softly when he saw me, pawing at the dirt. The two healers were waiting nearby, with baskets filled with green stems and small white flowers.
