Praetorian Rising, стр. 10

"Count Jenkins has been storing apples for us this year, can you believe it?" Lunci said, his little body literally shaking with excitement. "We get to eat apples! And I heard Betty Anne is going to make her famous gingerbread loaf. Isn't that great?"

"Yeah, sure." Camille said with a small, wavering smile. It all sounded incredible, but she couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt. The Moon Tax was harsh, and many suffered through the season without much in their winter storage. Eating and drinking in such excess felt wrong.

"Don't worry yourself," Peter said from the doorway, eyes alight with mischief as he held a small plate of meat and cheese out for her. "The count and some of the wealthier villagers stored away additional food in the last couple months of harvesting. We've been lucky this year, my dear—far more than the last. No need to fret. Mother Ma'Nada has been kind with her blessings this year, and many want to share in the giving."

"I don't want to take what I haven't earned," Camille said, picking at her fingernails to avoid the kindness in Peter's expression. "I don't want to owe anyone anything." As much as she knew the offer of food was an open invitation, she still felt as though she didn't deserve to be a part of the treat. Despite her ability to be amongst the inner circle of Sierra Village, she still felt undeserving of its benefits, yet she couldn't pinpoint why.

"You just might have to join the hunt the week, then. Fresh meat is more than enough of a contribution," Peter answered with a sly smile, reading her expression keenly. "Perhaps even Lunci can join."

"Join I will!" Lunci cried. "I will slay every last enemy and bring home food for twenty families!"

Both Peter and Camille laughed at the nine-year-old, but Camille couldn't discount the shadow of worry that darkened Peter's face as he watched his grandson.

She considered sharing her earlier encounters in the forest with Peter, but something about the interaction with the strange blue-eyed man made her want to keep it to herself. Also, a large part of her felt incredibly embarrassed about how close Lunci had gotten to danger under her protection, and there was no doubt he'd never be allowed to play in the woods again if she said anything.

They went about their nightly routine, picking through the oldest meat in the butchery that was still edible and stoking the fire to cook it. Peter reached for a loaf of bread and carefully picked off the staleness forming over the top, placing three thin slices on the rack beside the dancing flames. Lunci pulled a ripened tomato from the pantry store and sliced a couple of juicy sections off before handing them to Peter to roast over the fire.

It was a routine Camille cherished: huddling by the hearth to keep warm, clasping hands to pray to Mother Ma'Nada, and enjoying their meal together. Everything about their life felt natural to her, a comfortable sweater she'd worn many times before. It was in those moments that she felt like one of them, just as much as she felt like a complete and total outsider the rest of the time. Their routines and rituals weren't hers; they were utterly foreign. Yet she pretended not to care that none of it belonged to her, instead smiling and giving thanks for the blessings bestowed upon her that day.

"Can we have a story tonight?" Lunci begged, plucking a small piece of mold from the edge of his bread before he took a hearty bite.

Peter smiled as he lowered himself on his weathered wicker stool stoking the flames into a steady crackling burn. "A story? I guess we can manage that," he said with a jovial wink in Camille's direction. "But only if you agree to the terms."

Lunci beamed, his mouth splitting wide with an infectious smile. "Of course, I agree to the terms!"

"Which are?" Peter prompted, the stoker in hand resting the metal tip against the stone hearth like a cane.

Puffing up his chest with importance, Lunci lifted a single finger into the air. "Never repeat these stories outside of our home."

"Yes," Peter said with a nod as Lunci held up a second finger.

"Never discuss these stories with others outside of our family," he said as a third finger popped up. "And never tell anyone of my love for the mother, Ma'Nada."

Peter turned a severe eye on Camille, his blue eyes narrowed with intent.

"I won't tell a soul, Peter," she said without hesitation. She may not devoutly believe in the mother Ma'Nada as Peter and Lunci did, but she understood Peter's reasoning for keeping his beliefs to himself. His faith in the mother was strictly forbidden within the borders of Aspera by order of the High King. Camille found she enjoyed Peter's stories and didn't want to jeopardize their tradition just because she didn't believe it to be true.

"Which would you like to hear?" Peter asked as he returned to poking and prodding the coals into a dancing flame.

"Have you heard the story about the Ayya Sisters, Camille?" Lunci asked, bouncing up and down on his haunches like a puppy in anticipation of a meal.

"I don't believe so," Camille replied, taking a piece of sliced turkey and a chunk of cheese before settling down next to Neeko by the fireplace. She stroked the top of Neeko's soft furry head as Peter began.

"Ma'Nada, the great mother of this world, has, since the birth of time, loved all living things. She did, however, form a tremendous kindred love for the moon and stars, the sun and knowledge of the world, and the many plush wonders within the Realm of the Five Shores. With her love for these elements, Ma'Nada gave life to three lovely Daughters: Buvona, Joanna, and Nimeha.

"Buvona was the protector of the night sky and those crossing into Cydonia, the land of everlasting life. Her hair