Page 32 of A Winter Courtship

“Come in! Come in! I’ve prepared food for us,” his father said, leading the way into the cave. “And I’ve also got food for Ethel too. Lutoth told me all about her. She will feel right at home.”

“Thank you,” Ulrich said following him in.

“It is much simpler than a human home, but it provides us with what we need.”

A fire burned in the centre of the cave. Smoke rose into the crevices and crannies of the cave ceiling before being guided out into the open air.

“Please take a seat,” Lutoth’s father said, gesturing to the woven mat.

Ulrich and Lutoth did, although Ethel stood in the entryway, seemingly uncertain if she wanted to come in or not.

Lutoth’s father brought them many dishes of food, different types of dried and smoked fish, nuts, and dried berries and fruit. He brought out some dried greenery for Ethel. Seeing it, Ethel decided she did want to enter the cave. She stepped inside and began to eat.

“What is that?” Ulrich asked.

Lutoth tensed. Ulrich pointed to part of the cave wall. Whites, silvers, and blues swirled and mixed against the dark rock wall.

“It’s beautiful,” Ulrich said. “Did you paint that?”

Fifior shook his head. “My Aulea painted it.” He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “Aulea painted it. Lutoth’s mother. Years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Ulrich sounded embarrassed.

Lutoth’s father sighed. “Aulea would go out every day and collect ingredients to make the paint. Then she’d mix them here, and she’d paint for hours and hours.” He smiled at the memory. “I could watch her paint all day. And every day, her belly grew bigger and bigger with Lutoth. Happy times.” He looked away from the painting. “And then she was gone. No warning. No goodbye. She just left.”

Ulrich stared at Fifior.

“She just left?” Ulrich asked.

His father nodded. “Surprised me completely. We were so in love.” His father’s hurt hung palpably in the smoky cave air.

Lutoth’s stomach sank deeper and deeper into his body.

I shouldn’t have brought Ulrich here.

Not to this place where his father’s heartbreak was literally painted on the cave wall.

He should have brought his father to the village. To Ulrich’s house or Auntie Mila’s. His father could have met Ulrich there. Then Ulrich would not have seen this, and they wouldn’t have spoken of his mother’s abrupt departure.

He stared at Ulrich, trying to decipher what he was thinking, terrified that Ulrich might decide trusting Lutoth had been a mistake.

ChapterTwenty

Ulrich woke from his afternoon nap to a strange sensation. A tickling of his chin and cheeks. He opened his eyes. Darkness lay outside the windows, but several candles cast a dim golden light in the cabin.

Lutoth leaned over him, gaze on his beard.

“What are you doing?” Ulrich asked.

“Shhh. Keep sleeping,” Lutoth whispered. “I’m almost finished.” Lutoth picked up a small white flower and then placed it in Ulrich’s beard. It was hard to tell from this angle exactly what Lutoth was doing.

Lutoth’s brows furrowed in concentration. His tongue stuck out from the corner of his dark-grey lips.

“But what are you doing?” Ulrich asked. “It’s ticklish.”

“Shhh. Stop asking questions. I’m busy,” Lutoth said. “And stop moving.”

“I’m not moving.”