Goddess by Liv Savell (books for 6 year olds to read themselves txt) 📗

next. Maybe with food in our bellies and sleep, things will be clearer tonight.”

Etienne nodded and rose, nearly stumbling back to the earth before he caught his balance. His legs had stiffened while he sat until they reminded him of nothing so much as useless logs. “Good rest, Meirin.” He slipped into his tent with hardly a backward glance.

⥣          ⥣           ⥣

Unlike the others, Delyth did not sleep but slipped into her tent to take out Alphonse’s journal. It was far more comforting than the nightmares that filled her dreams.

Sixth Moon, Waning Crescent, Wildlands.

I do not even know how to begin to describe the odd and wonderful turns my life has taken. With Enyo, with my travels—With Delyth. I thought she hated me and would hate me forever for trying to flee with Enyo. But last night... 

Last night we came to some understanding. Of course, Delyth does not understand precisely everything about Enyo and my desire to be rid of her, but she understands that I will not leave her behind again. She understands how dearly it cost me to do so in the first place. 

I felt such relief in having her back as my friend, in knowing she would share my tent and smile carefully at me over the campfire. It felt as if my entire body lightened by ten pounds, having Delyth’s approval once more. 

Of course, I cried, Delyth holding me as I promised not to run away again. And I felt safe and warm and lovely. Somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling grateful or relieved and only aware of Delyth’s body. Of her smell, her touch…

And then…

And then she kissed me. My cheek. Her lips were so close and so warm. It only seemed natural to turn my head the bare inches and kiss her back. And again. And again.

I feel giddy just thinking about it. I’ve kissed before, or rather I’ve been kissed. By boys. At Moxous. But I never found it all that interesting and rarely sought it out. What was the point? I am engaged to Henri and those boys at Moxous… Well, they are a rough, conceited lot that think too highly of themselves. 

Delyth— Stars above. She’s not rough at all! I know she is much stronger than I am, and she has worked her entire life, but when her lips pressed to mine, my heart sang, and my mind quieted. Everywhere she touched felt like silk and campfire, and all I wanted was more. 

Am I becoming a greedy woman? Should I be ashamed of my behavior? 

Mother Agathi would say yes. 

Enyo would laugh at how naive and inexperienced I am. 

What if Delyth found my puerility undesirable as well? She seemed enthusiastic enough last night. But what if, in the light of day, she realizes how limited my romantic ventures have been? Or, I mean

No. I will not worry over this now. I will only enjoy the memory of kissing Delyth. 

No matter how dreadfully complicated it makes things. 

She kissed me back. I know it. 

Of course, she had kissed Alphonse back. Delyth smiled, tracing the words with her fingertips even as her eyes began to sink shut.

⥣          ⥣           ⥣

Delyth stood in a small clearing peppered with wildflowers, a mountain stream gurgling by to one side. It was not large enough to provide much of a break in the entwining limbs overhead so that when she looked up, the blue of the sky was only visible in broken fragments. Little pieces. 

When her hip twinged, Delyth looked down to see an old wound, bleeding sluggishly, and at her feet lay a slow-beating heart.

She knew this place.

The warrior found a place to bury the heart, using sticks to dig it a bed between the roots of an old oak before kneeling by the stream to wash away the blood on her hands. It lifted with ease, ropy tendrils drifting away as she scrubbed. More and more of them as though she was not merely washing away the stain of the heart. 

Beneath the shifting surface of the water, Delyth’s skin was clear, and yet the longer she washed them, the darker the stream became. There was more than one person’s blood here, more than a dozen’s. And still, the stream kept whisking it away, clean, cold water coming to replace the old. Perhaps it would sink back into the earth, return to Illygad like stolen goods at long last finding their rightful place. 

Her hip stopped bleeding, healed over in a familiar, knotted scar. Dirt lifted from her skin. Soon, the only smell that filled her breaths was one of pine; any metallic scents washed away. Delyth had no idea how much time had passed before she leaned back, tired but clean. She stretched out on her side, running the hawk feather in her hair through her fingers and watching the wildflowers tremble in a light breeze.

Alphonse should be here.

❀

The door appeared suddenly and without apparent reason. One moment Alphonse was hiding in the hallowed-velvet darkness of her mind; the next, there was a door. Painted yellow and surrounded by creeping vines of blooming purple flowers. It seemed to glow, and she could see a crack of sunlight beneath the seal. Whatever was on the other side of the door was warm and inviting. She knew it. 

A breeze, if such a thing was possible in the recesses of her mind, trickled under the seal. It smelled of loam and wildflowers and something else… Metallic and subtle. 

Why had the door appeared? Where had it come from? 

For a long moment, Alphonse sat, staring at the door without moving towards it. She was tired. It was so difficult now to think or move. Even watching out the windows of her eyes took more effort than she usually could muster. More and more, she felt the darkness calling to her, singing softly. Invitingly. 

Often she just stayed in the darkness, rather than face