"What did you teach her on the road?" she asked. "She usually squawks every time I do that."
"I don't squawk," Ashyn said.
"Yes, you do." Moria raised her voice to a falsetto. "Moria! That's rude!"
Ronan laughed and Moria grinned, and Ashyn didn't care if they were laughing at her, only that her sister was smiling again.
Moria leaned over to Ronan and mock-whispered, "Just don't tell her what it means."
Ashyn shot her fist again before motioning her away from Daigo. "Ronan wants to learn to throw a blade. Go teach him so he'll stop pestering me about it. Tova and I will look after Daigo."
A throat clearing behind them. They looked over to see Gavril returning from his patrol.
"Given how you just pantomimed throwing a blade, Ashyn, I would suggest you join the lesson. At the very least, your sister ought to teach you how to handle it better. You draw it as if you're preparing to slice an apple."
Ashyn's cheeks heated.
"Martial arts aren't a Seeker's focus, Kitsune," Moria said. "You don't use your dagger for much more than slicing apples."
"Because I have my sword. While fighting may not be her strength, I'd like to see her better able to defend herself."
Ronan got to his feet. "Ashyn is--"
Ashyn rose. "Gavril's right, even if he could use a few lessons himself--in diplomacy." She gave him a pointed look, which he chose to ignore. "I'll spar with Moria later. For now, she can go with Ronan while I tend to Daigo."
Gavril shook his head. "I'll stay with the cat. I need no lessons on holding my blade."
"No," Moria said. "You just need lessons on how to release it. Preferably before you fall from a thunder hawk and dash out your brains on the rocks." She paused. "Though that might not be an overly debilitating injury."
He turned a cool look on her, but Ashyn swore she saw a flicker of warmth in it before he knelt beside Daigo.
"Go, Keeper. I'll tend to your cat."
Now Ashyn was sure a look did pass between them. She was almost as sure Moria mouthed thank you, but that seemed too great a stretch of the imagination.
"Come, then," Moria said. "Time for class."
The lesson did not last long. The sun had almost dropped before they even began. They continued by the light of the moon and the campfire, but when Tova nearly got his tail lopped off, it became clear that throwing daggers in the dark was not, perhaps, a wise idea. They should have settled in for sleep then. Yet no one was tired.
They sat around the campfire, talking. Or Ronan and Moria talked. She had brought out sharp quills from her bag to show them, which necessitated the tale of where the quills came from. Then Moria and Ronan discussed the ways they could be used as weapons, poisoned or not. Ashyn had tried to slip away and give Ronan time with her sister, but he'd kept her there, pulling her into discussion.
It would have done little good to give them privacy anyway. Gavril sat across the fire, as silent and still as the rock he'd settled on. But he was listening to the conversation. When Moria stretched out her arm, explaining something to Ronan, and her cloak swung a little too close to the fire, it was Gavril who noticed first, scrambling up with, "Watch it!" and sweeping it away from the flames.
"You don't want to damage that," he said as they both moved back a step.
Moria murmured, "I know," her gaze dropping slightly.
Gavril hesitated. He glanced at Ashyn, then he bent and whispered something to her sister. Moria shook her head. Gavril said something else. She hesitated and then nodded.
"Ashyn?" she said. "I need to stretch my legs. Will you come with me?"
Tova was on his feet even before Ashyn. Moria made a stop at her pack and pulled something from it, then they began to walk.
Forty-three
They headed toward the horses. At night, Ashyn could look out at the landscape and think she was still in the Wastes. It was flat land, with distant, irregular shapes that could be heaps of stone and rubble. But the ground here was soft underfoot. Earth, not lava rock. As they walked, their steps swished through new grass, and those shapes were trees and distant mountains.
This was what the Wastes had looked like before the Age of Fire. It was so different. Normal for other people, she supposed--the rich smell of grass and soil, the chirp of crickets and night birds, the unseen creatures that scampered out of Tova's path. There were spirits here, too, quiet ones whispering past. She ought to revel in her surroundings, in the sense of life swirling all about them, so unlike the Wastes, so unlike her home.