sovbooks Chapter 256: Kindling
Chapter 256: Kindling
Chapter 256: Kindling"Mother," Milo said, walking quickly to kneel at the feet of the old woman. The pile of cedar shavings at her feet had been pushed to the side and the half-finished carving of Milo’s deceased brother was still clutched firmly in her hands, but he barely noticed either of those things as he reached into his tunic to retrieve a small wooden box covered in intricate carvings of flowers and butterflies.
"This... this is..." Old Nan said, reaching out with trembling fingers to take the small wooden box. One of the feet on the left side had snapped off and the finish had been ruined by ash, but the rest of the box was in remarkably good condition.
"Father," she whispered as her claws traced the delicate carvings of moonflowers. They were her mother’s favorite along with the butterflies that clustered around them in the spring. The feelings of love and affection he’d poured into each scrape and gouge could easily be felt as she turned the box over in her hands.
Inside a faint clink of earthenware bottles made it clear that not only had the box survived, but the small collection of pigments and stains her mother treasured had survived as well.
"Sir Ollie has something for you as well," Milo said, stepping aside to let Ollie take his place.
"Sir Ollie?" Old Nan said, blinking several times in surprise at the way her son addressed the human. This boy wasn’t one of the vampire rulers of the vale, so what exactly had he done to earn such respect from her son?
"I was only able to retrieve one side of the bookshelf," Ollie said, unwrapping an intricately carved plank of wood nearly two feet in length and two handbreadths wide. "The other end was crushed with the walls collapsed, the splinters... they weren’t, weren’t very large," he said, looking away in shame.
He knew very well why this piece was so important and once he found the first half intact he’d spend an entire hour digging through the mud to see if the other half had survived. The runners between the ends had been lost but they were the least important part of the whole piece. If both ends survived, he was certain that Old Nan would be able to restore the treasured piece. In the end, his efforts had been wasted and they’d run out of time to
"Why?" Old Nan asked, looking at Ollie through misty eyes. Dirty, ragged, and exhausted as he was, to her, the young man possessed the halo of a hero. "Why go so far for us? For just these few useless items?" To her and the members of the Heartwood clan, the were priceless artifacts but to anyone else, a pigment box and a broken bookshelf could hardly be considered useful.
"Because they’re important to you," Ollie said honestly. "And because I want your help, Old Nan. But... You needed help first. This was more important," he said. The words were awkward and he wasn’t quite sure if he was expressing his sentiment the right way but... he meant it. She needed help to heal whether she helped him or not. When he saw how stricken she was by everything she’d lost, helping her became the most important thing.
"Mother," Milo said gently. "I’ve spent some time talking to Sir Ollie about what he wants help with. I think you should hear him out..."
"All right," Old Nan said. "I, I can’t make promises, but for what you’ve done, I can at least hear you out," she said.
As Ollie began to explain what he needed, how he had been directed to oversee the construction of a village for the refugees and his desire to make the place feel like a new home rather than simply a collection of houses, Old Nan clutched the box and bookshelf end to her chest and listened to every word.
The carvings from her father and grandfather were more than just artifacts of her ancestors... they were the kindling that had lit a fire of hope in her heart. Years ago, her grandfather had called the Vale of Mists home. Perhaps, with help from this strange human, she could do the same.