Morrighan Read Online Free Page B

storm.
    â€œNo,” I said. “Tell us about when you met Papa.”
    Ama looked at me uncertainly. “But that’s not a story of Before. That is a story of After.”
    I swallowed, trying to hide my misery. “Then tell us a story of After.” I had heard the story before, but it was a long time ago. I needed to hear it again.
    â€œIt was twelve years after the storm. I was only a girl of seventeen. By then I had traveled far with the Remnant who had survived, but only to a place that looked as desolate as the last. We lived by our wits and will, my mother showing me how to trust the language of knowing within me, for little else mattered. The maps and gadgets and inventions of man could not help us survive or find food. Each day I reached deeper, unlocking the skills the gods had given us since the beginning of time. I thought this was all my life would ever be, but then one day, I saw him.”
    â€œWas he handsome?”
    â€œOh, yes.”
    â€œWas he strong?”
    â€œVery.”
    â€œWas he—”
    â€œStop interrupting,” I told the children. “Let her finish!”
    Ama looked at me. I saw the wondering in her eyes, but she continued.
    â€œBut the most important thing I noticed about him was that he was kind. Desperation ruled the world, and kindness was as rare as a clear blue sky. We had come upon one of the cellars from Before. There was still some food to be found in those days, pantry stockpiles that hadn’t yet spoiled or been raided, but it was risky to venture into such places. The leader saw us coming and waved us away, but your papa intervened, pleading for us, and the leader relented. They allowed us in and shared what little food there was. It was the last time I ever tasted an olive, but that small taste was the beginning of something far more … satisfying.”
    Pata rolled her eyes, and the other miadres laughed. Far more. The hidden meanings of Ama’s stories no longer escaped me.
    *   *   *
    â€œWhere are you in such a hurry to?” Ama asked. “The beetles of the field will take you to task if you’re late?” Her tone held suspicion. I had seen her watching me as I raced through my morning chores.
    I slowed my steps, ashamed that I hadn’t told Ama about the building of books—or Jafir. But not so ashamed that I came forth with the truth. One thing I had learned was that Ama could not read my mind as I had once believed. But she knew my mind. She breathed it. She lived it. Just as she did with the whole tribe. It was a heavy weight for her to bear. Part of that weight would one day pass to me.
    â€œIs there something you need, Ama?”
    â€œNo, child,” she said caressing my cheek. “Go. Gather. I understand the need for solitude. Just stay aware. Don’t let this time of peace cause you to let your guard down. The danger is always there.”
    â€œI always watch, Ama. And I always remember the dangers.”

Chapter Eight
    Morrighan
    I flew through the fields. Ran breathlessly down the canyon. The day was already hot, and sweat rolled down my back. I stopped to gather nothing, my empty bag flopping wildly in my fist. When I reached the trail that led to the old building of books, I saw his horse tied to the low branch of a tree. And then I saw him.
    He stood in the middle of the wide porch entrance between two pillars watching me approach. He was early, just as I was. I slowed at the base of the steps, catching my breath. I looked at him in a way I never had before—in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to see him. How tall he had become, a head taller than me. His ribs no longer poked out pathetically, and his knotted ropes of hair had somehow become a thing of beauty and power. They fell gracefully over his shoulders, which were now wide and muscled. My gaze traveled to his chest, broad and strong, the chest that had brushed my back yesterday.
    He watched me