* * *
Sighing, Nelyn stepped into the blacksmithing tent. Ever since the blacksmith had fallen ill she had been charged with keeping the weapons sharpened. She dumped her bundle and paused. A single white iris rested upon the whetstone.
Smiling slightly, she picked it up and put it under her nose enjoying the scent. Arnin, she thought, affectionately. She wondered how he knew that irises were her favorite flower and how he came by one.
In a moment of femininity, Nelyn placed the flower in her golden hair using a shield as a mirror to admire herself. When satisfied, she picked up a knife and began sharpening it. The stone whirred making a distinct grating noise as she expertly honed the blade.
“Nelyn?” Jarown entered with a tray of food. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Put it there,” she said, not looking up from her work.
Disheartened, Jarown set the tray down and headed for the opening. All of his efforts to earn Nelyn’s forgiveness had failed. He missed his daughter and wished she would speak to him again like she used to. “Nelyn, you need to eat.”
Annoyed, Nelyn faced her father. “I’ll eat when I’m finished.”
Frowning, Jarown walked away.
Nelyn focused on the whetstone as it whirled around against the steel blade of the knife. A soft thump caught her attention. She jerked her head in the direction of the sound. Jarown lay in the mud facedown.
Nelyn released her grip on the knife allowing it to clink on the ground as she ran for him. “Father!” Worried, she gently rolled Jarown onto his back. His hot skin burned her. Knowing what she would find, Nelyn pulled back the collar of his shirt. Three red welts dotted his neck.
“Help me!”
Rushed footsteps hurried towards her.
“What’s wrong?” asked Nedis.
“He has it,” replied Nelyn.
Nedis didn’t need Nelyn to clarify her meaning. He bent down and heaved Jarown onto his shoulders carrying him to where the other sick patients were with Nelyn close behind.