Sol pushed himself up from the muddy bank, his body protesting with a chorus of dull aches, but the sharp, blinding agony was already receding. The cold river water had done its job... washing away the blood and shocking his nerves into a manageable numbness.
He made his way back to the shadowed alley, retrieving the heavy clay cauldron he had thrown, before confrontation, and damn, due to injuries It felt heavy, awkward, and pressed against his bruised ribs, but he hoisted it with a grim determination.
The walk back to the hut was a performance. He had to walk upright, hide the limp, and mask the tremor in his hands.
When he finally pushed aside the leather flap of the doorway, the warmth of the fire instantly improved his mood compared to cold darkness outside. Aunt Lyra and the girls were there, pacing around anxiously, but aunt lyra was practically vibrating with anxiety, with Arelia trying to comfort her.
"Sol!" she gasped, rushing forward, her hands hovering as if afraid to touch him. "Where have you been? Why did it take so long? It’s pitch black outside! We were about to go back out to find you."
Sol set the heavy cauldron down with a thud on the ground, forcing a sheepish, tired smile onto his face. "Sorry, Aunt. I went to take a dunk in the stream." he lied smoothly, keeping his bruised torso turned slightly away from the firelight to hide the fresh discoloration. "I was feeling sticky and gross from the whole day’s work. Needed to wash it off before I slept."
Lyra’s brow furrowed, her maternal instincts flaring. "A dunk? At night? You should have bathed here! The river is dangerous at this hour, my dear. Spirits and beasts prowl the banks!"
"It’s okay," Sol assured her, stepping further into the dim orange glow of the fire pit. He kept his movements casual, though his back screamed in protest. "I stayed by the shallow edge."
Before she could inspect him too closely, he gestured dramatically to the cauldron and the baskets filled with various ingredients, "Forget me. Look at the haul. We have too much work to do to worry about me."
The diversion worked perfectly. Even though she wanted him to scold further, but seeing that he was alright, she didn’t push further.
Lyra looked down at the massive haul... the mountain of tubers, the herbs, the fruits... and her worry melted into sheer, overwhelmed gratitude.
"Oh, ancestors..." she breathed.
The girls had heard this whole saga and seeing him already being interrogated, they didn’t say anything and looked at the haul.
They quickly huddled around the pile of goods, the firelight catching the excitement in their eyes. Because it wasn’t just bones and guts; in the chaos of the trade, they had bartered for berries, wild onions, fibrous tubers, and even a small sack of salt.
"Sol, look!" Liora squealed, dipping her finger into a small pouch and licking it. Her hazel eyes went wide. "It’s salt! Real salt! Not just blood-salt!"
She scrambled over, her small hands grabbing a handful of purple fruit. "Sol! Look! There’s so many things!"
"And look at this," Arelia added, her usually calm voice trembling with relief as she held up a slab of dark, rich organ meat. "This is good quality, liver, and kidneys too. We won’t go hungry this week for a whole month."
Even Veyra, the eternal skeptic, couldn’t hide the smirk playing on her lips. She tossed a heavy rib bone onto the pile with a satisfied clack. "Not bad, merchant. Not bad at all. You actually pulled it off. I thought we were going to be stoned."
"Exactly," Sol said, settling down on a mat near the fire, keeping his bruised back in the shadows.
He was incredibly thankful for two things. First, that he had protected his face with his arms during the beating, and the dim firelight was the only source of illumination, masking the overall surface bruising. Second, the incredible healing factor of this body; the surface abrasions were already knitting together, leaving him looking merely tired rather than battered in the flickering firelight, though the internal damage still remained.
The hut, usually filled with the tense silence of survival, was suddenly alive with a subdued, happy energy. Sol watched them... Lyra chiding as Liora tried to eat three different fruits, Arelia carefully wiping dirt from the roots, and even Veyra touching around different things. The hut was filled with a rare, genuine happiness.
A profound sense of peace settled over him, momentarily eclipsing the physical pain. Even though the pain in his chest was a dull, rhythmic throb, and his jaw ached where Vurok had clipped him, but seeing their smiles... genuine, relieved smiles free of the crushing anxiety of starvation... made every kick he’d taken worth it.
It was worth it, he thought. I have taken the beating, Sol vowed silently, his eyes hardening as he watched Liora’s innocent laugh. But revenge will definitely be taken, and Vurok will pay for threatening to destroy it. I will protect these smiles.
But feeling the pain and fatigue. "Alright, let’s get this sorted," Sol said, clapping his hands gently.
They spent the next hour processing the goods under Sol’s direction. He taught them how to salt the meat to draw out moisture, explaining the chemistry in simple terms they could understand. Under Sol’s instruction, they prepared the meat for smoking, rubbing the salt into the flesh to preserve it for the morning.
Dinner was a simple vegetable soup, but Lyra had added a few chunks of the stored river hog meat Sol had helped them smoke previously. The smoky, savory flavor filled the hut, and everyone ate until they were full. The mood in the hut was lighter than it had been in a year... a fragile, precious happiness born of full bellies.
Soon, the exhaustion of the day took over. The fire burned low, and girls went to sleep, the rhythmic breathing of the girls filled the room. Sol lay down on his furs, staring at the thatched roof. His body throbbed, but his spirit was better than ever, and slowly he went to the valley of dreams.