Many seasons had passed, the tides had risen and fallen, snow had covered the ground and leaves had changed from bright vermont green to a rusty bronze.
Dilara had finally found some peace. Events after leaving the cave had been both fast and surprising. Yemon had accepted her in a begrudging and quiet way. His strength was beyond legends when shortly after their lives entwined she snuck from the camp to ensure the curse was finally settled.
Yemon had not asked questions many seasons later when bedraggled, covered in scars and grime, she returned to his fire. It was both quietly and without thinking that they had finally come together.
The souls of Dilara and Yemon’s ancestors had touched and bonded. Life was both cruel and kind and on Dilara’s lap before the fire sat Creel.
His baby scent filled her nose, filling her heart and taking away the cold.
The mountains in the distance looked fierce and brought a tear to her eyes. So many changes, retribution had been met and yet she was still not still.
Creel had filled her womb and been nourished by her, brought forth to join his ancestors in this world. Dilara was safe in the knowledge she was loved and yet continued to be restless.
Her tribe vanquished left an empty feeling that her handsome grandson and husband couldn’t quite fill. The curse now broken and avenged and her love for Yemon, beheld for all the village, as was her place as the Chief’s wife. Yet an uneasiness still followed wherever she walked.
Especially at night it cloaked her being as a constant reminder as she went to the privy huts. Shiny eyes following her in the dark, alert ears listening as she moved. But even with her keen vision, she knew she would never see who watched and lurked.
Laughter and joy filled her days around the cooking fire. Creel gurgling up at her, clasping a finger and kicking strong chubby legs. Moody eyes and a crinkle of his lips would often reach her as Yemon went about tribal business.
The other women loved Creel and were loyal to Yemon and their union ensured the ancestry of the tribe would continue, yet, while they were free with their love for Creel, Dilara still felt the distance and hesitation in the way with which she was dealt.
Always shown respect as a chieftain’s wife, it was like a double edge sword plunged deep. She had lost family, history and homeland. Killed the chief, they had followed and married his son and given birth to the next line and yet an emptiness, a pit of vast loneliness ate at her.
A gruff voice broke her thoughts. “Dilara.” She looked up into Yemon’s eyes and felt uneasiness waft between them. “Dilara, I am sorry, I think we may never be at peace. We have heard an ancestor has survived, one of your tribe. They now seek retribution. As my wife, they have declared you an enemy.”
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