Chapter 11
On Bonfire Feast day, the sky above the borderland blazes with molten gold and crimson.
I don the borderland costume that Jason has prepared for me.
I whirl once before the bronze mirror, letting my fingers touch the tiger-tooth hairpin which he has fastened in my hair.
“Leah, the general is outside waiting,” says Talia, with a grin.
I draw a deep breath and step out. In the courtyard, Jason is standing, tall as a pine. His glance lightens on me and lingers a moment.
“General,” I say softly.
He grunts, his voice for some reason lower than usual.
“You wear it well.”
We make our way to the festival, the streets alive with the energy of the festival. I have never seen anything like it, my eyes shining with wonder.
“It is not as elaborate as Belmor Town,”says Jason, as we walk on together, “but it has spirit.”
I shake my head, smiling.
“I love it.”
He looks at me, taking in gladly my relaxed expression. His lips twitch upward, a rare softness in his eyes.
The town square is at hand now and a great bonfire blazes there, flames licking the sky. The natives are circling it in twos and threes. Their songs mingle with their laughter and go off into the night.
“General! Lady!”
The soldiers see us and wave frantically.
Jason nods, leads me forward.
“General, you are here!” says one.
“The while is stronger than it was last year; careful!”
Jason raises the jug, swallows a long gobble of it. Liquor spills from the corner of his mouth and trickles down into his throat.
He wipes it away hastily.
“Not so bad,” he mutters, tilting the bottle to me.
“Want to taste?”
I hesitate, then take a small sip.
The fiery liquid burns, and I cough, cheeks flushing. Jason chuckles, patting my back gently. "Easy."
The soldiers roar with laughter.
"Lady, our borderland brew's got more kick than Belmor Town's! You'll get the hang of it!"
I wipe a tear from my eye, grinning. "Guess I need practice."
The air crackles with energy. Soldiers haul Jason away to an archery contest while a knot of local she-wolves tug me into the spinning dance. Firelight strokes my cheeks; the tiger-tooth hairpin sways with each step, and I feel vividly alive, as though I have just walked out of a painting.
From a distance, Jason watches.
A bearded soldier shoves him.
"General," he says, "what's the matter with you, why don't you join the dance?"
He turns away.
"It ain't on my program."
"Come on," says the soldier, "Your girl is having the time of her life. Go over and talk to her!"
Jason is silent, reflective.
He is a wolf designed for battle, not for flitting about in the glow of a festival.
The night grows darker, the fire smaller, and the people fewer.
I am breathlessly happy, sweat-drops standing out on my forehead, but blissful.
"Tired?" Jason asks, drawing near, leaning down.
"No," I say, shaking my head. "Not tired, happy."
He looks down into the depths of my bright eyes and a faint smile curls his lips.
"Let's go back," he urges.
On the way home the cool of the night is soothing to the heat of the day.
I gaze into the star-studded sky.
"The stars in the border country are brighter than those of Belmor Town," I inform him.
He follows my eye.
They are beautiful. After a little he says, "Like Bonfire Feast?" I turn to him, smiling down on him until my face is nearly devoid of its beauty, I am so happy.
"I loved it!"
His eyes soften, as though he wants to say more, but he merely nods.
"They will have another next year." I beam into his face.
"Next year you will dance with me." I say, "all right?"
He stops and looks at me, the glow of the fire falls full on the clearness of my eyes and the hopefulness of my smile.
After a little he says, "All right."
He escorts me to the door of my room.
"Get rested," he says.
"So must you, General," I say.
"Good-night."
I am about to close the door when he still lingers there, his deep steady eyes gazing at me. "General?" I question, looking up in wonder.
He pauses, then says, "In private… just call me Jason."
I blink, a smile spreading. "Okay, Jason."
His eyes darken. He nods, turns, and walks away.
I shut the door, leaning against it. My fingers brush the tiger-tooth hairpin.
