Morrighan Read Online Free Page A

He probably had. Ama would never say just how it happened, but her eyes always sparked with anger before she turned away from the subject.
    I was curious about his brother. Jafir only shrugged when I asked about him. He pointed to a scar on his arm. “Steffan speaks more with his hands than his mouth.”
    â€œThen I shouldn’t like to meet him.”
    â€œAnd I shouldn’t like you to meet him,” Jafir said, poking fun at the way I said things differently from him, and we both laughed.
    I didn’t know that what we were forging was a friendship. It seemed impossible. But I discovered that the boy who had once kept me hidden from his fellow scavengers had other kindnesses in him as well—a bracelet woven from meadow grass, a chipped plate rimmed in gold that he had found in a ruin. One day he gave me a handful of sky when he saw me gazing up at the clouds, just to see me smile. I put it in my pocket. Other times we maddened each other beyond telling with our different ways, but we always came back, our squabble forgotten. We changed together, imperceptibly day by day, as slowly as a tree budding with spring.
    But then one day, everything changed in one leap, permanently and forever.
    He had stunned a squirrel that morning from ten paces with his slingshot, and was trying to instruct me how to do the same, but shot after shot, my stones went miserably off course. He was chiding me for my aim, and I was leveling frustrated glares at him.
    â€œNo, not like that,” he complained. He jumped up from where he lay in the meadow and marched over to me. “Like this, ” he said, standing behind me and wrapping his arms around mine. He took my hands in his, his chest against my back, slowly pulling back the sling. Then he paused, a long uncomfortable pause that seemed to last forever, but neither of us moved. I tried to understand why it seemed so different. His warm breath fluttered against my ear, and I felt my heart racing, felt something between us that hadn’t been there before. Something strong and wild and uncertain. He let go of my hands suddenly and stepped away. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I have to leave.”
    He got on his horse and left without a good-bye. I watched him ride until he was out of sight.
    I didn’t try to stop him. I wanted him to go.
    *   *   *
    The longhouse buzzed with chatter, but I didn’t feel part of it. I stared at the poles and rushes and animal skins that made up the walls as I stacked the clean gourds.
    â€œYou’ve hardly said a word all night. What’s wrong, child?”
    I whirled. “I’m not a child, Ama!” I snapped. “Can’t you see that?” I sucked in a breath, startled by my own outburst.
    Ama took the gourds from my hands and set them aside. “Yes,” she said softly. “The child in you is gone, and a … young woman stands before me.” Her pale gray eyes glistened. “I just refused to see. I’m not sure how it happened so fast.”
    I fell into her arms, holding her tight. “I’m sorry, Ama. I didn’t mean to be short with you. I—”
    But I had no more words to explain myself. My mind tossed and pitched, and my body no longer felt like my own. Instead hot fingers squeezed my gut with the memory of Jafir’s warm breath on my skin.
    â€œI’m all right,” I said. “The others wait.”
    Ama pulled me to the center of the longhouse where everyone had settled around the fire. I sat down between Micah and Brynna. He was thirteen, and she, twelve, but they seemed so young to me now. The twins, Shay and Shantal, eight, sat across from me. To me, all of them were children.
    â€œTell us a story, Ama,” I said. “About Before.” I needed a story to soothe me, for my mind still jumped like a grasshopper of the fields.
    The children called out their choices, the towers, the gods, the