Coming Storm

Colm stepped back away from Bree, alarmed. He’d never seen her this way, and though their friendship was new, he wasn’t sure how long he could expect it to last.

All he knew was that he wanted what was in those canteens. Light, they’d called it, and he’d never tasted something so wonderful, sweet as milk.

But now, she held up her flame-lit staff, protecting her stash. She reminded him of a wild animal guarding her kill, and he knew that if he dared try to take it from her, he would be as good as dead.

She was as dangerous as a wolf.

He moved farther away, but he dared not show his back to her, worried that she would attack him. And then what would he do?

She’d rescued him from the wicked Toag Forest, where trees ensnared their victims, forcing them into their bark prisons for decades. He should’ve been grateful to Bree.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting the Light.

He recognized that if he were to let himself go, let himself fall prey to its siren song, he would meet his end.

So, he lied.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I don’t want it that badly.”

She scowled at him, putting one of the canteens behind her back as if that would be enough to protect it from any predator.

Sprinkling rain began to fall, and gradually she relaxed, then stood up straight.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Colm took a deep breath, the crisis narrowly averted. He would simply have to wait, that was all. And when she finally let her attention drift elsewhere, he would make his move. He’d helped, after all.

He was no sorcerer, but when all was said and done, he would take his fair share.

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