>>6068802Even the stone is different here. You press your hand against the outside walls of your house as the afternoon win caresses your skin. The walls of your old house used to be rough and covered in tiny holes, these are full bricks, renewed and solid.
They feel warm beneath your skin.
“I want my family to live well like everyone else here,” you whisper to yourself. Unbidden, someone wraps her arm around your neck, pushing you to turn.
“They will. And if something goes wrong I will be there to give you a hand. Maybe both hands when I can,” Salicera chuckles, making you turn towards the open street. “But tonight is our night, a night of celebration! And I say the townspeople can’t wait to meet me again! And you of course!”
She pulls you forward, linking arms — like you and Rubida did in the well. But no, you push that memory away. Now it’s not the time for anything like that.
As the four of you proceed downtown, you start to take in the view and feel of a true Maduan town, more than you did that morning. Some of the houses here have taller roofs, covered in large grey slabs rather than shingles, which give them a rougher look. The cobblestone street swings in lazy curves, the surface so smooth it makes you worry you may even slip and fall.
Wonder how many centuries of peoples walked these roads — the town had been here at least since the times of Kishirra, which means, at least… fourteen centuries? Your mind reels with the depth of time in the Holy Land.
The planetary ring shines silver in the darkening sky while you keep walking, though not many people are there, for some reason.
“Maybe they are all gathered for the festival?” Soralisa asks, trying to crane her neck, which is not an easy feat considered she’s by far the shortest of you four.
“I was told we were supposed to find the communal orchards,” Rubida explains. “It’s on the opposite side to the Temple, so that way.”
[cont.]
