Chapter 38: Orabelle

Arwyn grinned, stepping fully inside. "Thanks. Didn't mean to barge in."

Santina muttered something under her breath, but she followed, kicking mud off her boots. Nathaniel tipped his head politely. "Appreciate it. Name's Nathaniel. This is Arwyn and Santina."

Orabelle nodded, her expression warming. "Orabelle. You've already met my girl, I see." She glanced at Cassandra, who beamed back, then gestured to the table. "Sit. You look half-drowned. I've got coffee on, so I'll fix something warm if you're staying."

"That'd be great," Arwyn said, sliding into a chair. The wood creaked under him, but it felt good to sit somewhere dry. Santina took the spot beside him, her whipsword propped against the table, while Nathaniel stayed standing, leaning near the hearth.

Orabelle moved quickly, grabbing mugs from the shelf. Her hands were rough, calloused from work, but her movements had a gentle rhythm. She poured coffee, and the steam curled up in lazy swirls, sliding the mugs across the table. "Rain's been heavy today. Worse than usual. You picked a rough time to wander out here."

"Tell me about it," Santina said, wrapping her hands around the mug. "Thought we'd get a break after four days of walking."

"Terra Incognita doesn't give breaks," Orabelle replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "But you're safe here. This house has stood through worse."

Cassandra swung her legs, sipping from a tiny cup of her own. "Told 'em you're the best, Mama. They liked my poem too!"

"Did they now?" Orabelle's smile grew, and she leaned against the counter, looking at them with new curiosity. "You know, she's got a head full of sonnets and poems, that one. Really keeps us going when the days get long."

"Well, she recited one… something about water gods," Arwyn said, sipping the coffee. It was bitter, strong, but warmed him straight through. "Something about blessing stuff with rain. It's pretty cool."

Orabelle chuckled softly, but she coughed faintly. "Those are old words. It's been around longer than me. Out here, the rain's everything. It grows the crops, feeds the water meat, and keeps us alive. We say thanks however we can."

Nathaniel glanced out the window, where the storm still raged. "Smart way to live. Most folks would've given up in a place like this."

"There isn't really much choice. Rain is everlasting here. It never stops, literally." Orabelle said, her tone matter-of-fact. "We make do, and we always have." She paused, then called over her shoulder. "Odrick! Come say hello to our guests!"

A shuffle came from the back room, and a boy poked his head out. He was small, though around two inches taller than Cassandra. He had the same age as her, and Arwyn had to guess seven. His hair was a lighter brown, cropped short, and his eyes were bright, sharp, and green.

Odrick stepped forward, wiping his hands on a rag of his own. He'd been tinkering with something, maybe a tool or a toy, judging by the smudge of grease on his cheek.

"Hi." Odrick's voice was unusually steady for a kid so young and so small. "So you're the ones Cassandra found?"

"Yeah," Arwyn replied, grinning. "I'm Arwyn. That's Santina and Nathaniel."

Odrick nodded, sizing them up with a seriousness that didn't quite fit his size. "You look pretty tired. Do you guys need help with anything?"

Santina raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. You're… seven and offering to fix us up?"

"Yes, I'm seven, and yes, I'm good at stuff," Odrick said, puffing out his chest a little. "I help Mama all the time. She doesn't need to go to the market to sell water meat. I can do more here and there."

Orabelle laughed, ruffling his hair as she passed him. "He's brave, my boy. Always has been. Thinks he's big enough to run the farm and sell our products himself."

"You don't need to think it," Odrick muttered, crossing his arms. "Because I can."

Nathaniel smirked, clearly amused. "You've got spirit, kid. Reminds me of someone I used to know."

Arwyn leaned forward, curious. "So… you two run this place alone with your mom?"

"Yep!" Cassandra chirped, hopping off her stool to stand by Odrick. "We're a team. I find stuff, he fixes stuff, and Mama makes it all work."

Orabelle set a pot of steaming broth on the table, ladling it into bowls. It smelled rich, meaty, with a hint of those weird fruits from outside. "They're my hands and heart," she said, her voice soft but proud. "We don't have much, but we've got each other. That's enough."

Santina took a bowl, sniffing it cautiously. "This the water meat?"

"Part of it," Orabelle said, sitting across from them. "Mixed with some root bulbs. It keeps you strong in the wet."

Arwyn tried a spoonful. It was strange, slick but hearty, with a taste he couldn't pin down. "Not bad. Different, but not bad."

"Well, it's definitely better than slimy," Santina muttered, though she kept eating.

Nathaniel sipped his, nodding approval. "You've got a good life here, Orabelle. Hard, but good."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes fully. "It's what we know. The rural place is quieter than the city hubs. Less trouble, less noise. Folks out there trade for water meat sometimes, but they don't come this far often, so we have to bring our stuff to the public market to sell. But well, it suits us fine."

Odrick climbed onto a chair, grabbing a bowl for himself. "I could go sell it right now, Ma. I'd be fast. Brave too."

"You're brave right here," Orabelle said, tapping his nose. "The market's no place for you yet. Too many hands grabbing what's not theirs."

He scowled, but it was clear he listened to her. Arwyn watched them, feeling a pang he couldn't name. Orabelle's care wrapped around her kids like a blanket, firm but gentle. He pushed the thought down, focusing on the broth.

"So," Orabelle said, resting her chin on her hand. "What brings you three out here? Terra Incognita's no picnic."

Nathaniel met her gaze, his smirk fading. "Looking for something. Something big."

"The Phoenix Quill," Arwyn blurted, then winced when Santina elbowed him.

Orabelle's eyebrows lifted. "I've heard of it. Old stories. Folks say it's real, but no one's seen it. You think it's out here?"

"Maybe," Nathaniel said, keeping it vague. "The rain's loudest where the big stuff hides, right?"

Cassandra giggled, kicking her legs. "I told you!"

Orabelle studied them, then nodded slowly. "Well, you're welcome to stay till the storm eases. So rest up. You'll need it if you're chasing legends."

The rain drummed on, steady and fierce, but inside, the warmth held strong. Arwyn leaned back, listening to Odrick chatter about fixing a water pump and Cassandra hum her poem again. Orabelle's kindness felt like a lifeline, and for the first time in days, he let himself relax.

But the Quill lingered in his mind, and the storm outside whispered that their rest wouldn't last.

"Hey. Arwyn's your name, right?" Odrick's voice cut through his thoughts like a blade. "You guys plan to travel through here and to the Sketcher's Rest, am I right? You mentioned that Quill where it could bring back someone."

Arwyn smirked. "Oh, you know something?"

"No, not necessarily," he said, tittering, but his face came back steady and serious. "I just wanna warn you about them guys in the urban city when you travel through. They're so big, tall, and they never hesitate to hurt people in public using their samurai swords and guns. Oh, and they're powerful as well, in the high ranks of the hierarchy."

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, nodding with an expressionless face. "We'll take care of them, and you guys take care of your mother when she gets older."

Cassandra faced Nathaniel, raised her right hand to her forehead and stood straight like a girl scout. "Yes sir!"

Orabelle laughed in such purity. It was clear that these two little soldiers were her only faith and hope. Her eyes seemed to shine whenever Cassandra smiled, or whenever Odrick wanted to yap about his experiences with his mother.

But—

Cough! Cough!

She was sick, not because of the rain, since her body was used to the downpour of Terra Incognita. Both Cassandra and Odrick sat beside her as she coughed, their small hands reaching out like they could hold her steady.

It'd been weeks now since she had this sickness. She'd been taking 

"Ma, you okay?" Odrick asked, eyes narrowing with genuine concern. "Ma, I'll sell the water meat for you tomorrow, and Cassandra can take care of feeding the pen. You just go and rest for today—"

"No, no. It's alright," she interjected with a softer voice. She let out a laugh, though it was obvious that she wasn't fine at all. "I'm alright, you two. I can handle it. You lot go have fun playing."

Arwyn's chest tightened. That laugh. That forced smile. It was too familiar, like the way Marco used to brush off his own pain, telling him to dream on and be free. He looked away, staring into the fire, but the memory clawed at him. 

Orabelle wasn't fine, and her kids knew it too.

Cassandra's face crumpled, her usual brightness fading. "Mama, you're coughing bad. You never cough like that."

"It's just a tickle," Orabelle said, patting her daughter's head. But her hand trembled, and another cough racked her. It was deeper this time, wet and heavy. She pressed a rag to her mouth, and when she pulled it away, Arwyn caught a glimpse of red speckling the cloth before she tucked it into her sleeve.

Odrick stood, his small frame rigid with purpose. "I'm getting the tea. The one you make for us when we're sick. You need it now."

"Boy, sit down," Orabelle said, her voice firm despite the damn strain. "I'm not some fragile thing. Been through worse than a cough."

But Odrick didn't budge. "You always say that. And then you work 'til you can't. I'm not a baby, Ma. I can help."

Santina set her bowl down, her usual sharpness softening. "Kid's right. You sound rough. Let him do something."

Orabelle sighed, her shoulders sagging. "You're all ganging up on me now, huh?"

Nathaniel crossed his arms, his gaze steady. "I have seen too many folks push past what they can take. Rest ain't weakness, aunt."

She met his eyes, then looked at her kids, their faces tight with worry. Finally, she nodded, a small surrender. "Fine. Tea'd be nice, Odrick. Thank you."

He darted off to the kitchen, his steps quick and sure, like he'd been waiting for this chance. Cassandra stayed glued to her mother's side, clutching her arm. "You gotta get better, Mama. We need you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Cassie," Orabelle said, pulling her close. But her voice wavered, and the words felt more like a wish than a promise.

Arwyn swallowed hard, his throat burning. He couldn't sit still. He pushed up from the table, pacing to the window. The rain blurred the world outside, but he could still see the pens, the water meat rolling in the muck, oblivious to the storm. 

This family had built something here, something real, and now it felt like it could slip away. 

Just like his had.

"You alright, kid?" Nathaniel's voice came low, close behind him.

"Yeah," Arwyn lied, not turning around. "Just… reminds me of stuff."

Nathaniel didn't push. He just stood there like a quiet anchor. Santina joined them as her boots scuffled the floor. "She's tough, but that cough's no joke. Seen it before. Starts small, ends big."

"Don't say that," Arwyn snapped, sharper than he meant. "She's got them. They'll be fine."

Santina raised her hands, backing off. "Didn't mean it like that. Just… hope she listens."

Odrick returned, balancing a steaming mug with both hands. "Here, Ma. Made it strong, like you do."

Orabelle took it, her smile weak but real. "You're too good to me, Oddie." She sipped, and for a moment, the room settled, the fire's crackle mixing with the rain's steady beat.

But then she coughed again, harder, doubling over. The mug slipped, shattering on the floor. Cassandra yelped, and Odrick lunged to steady her, his small arms wrapping around her shoulders. "Ma! Ma, breathe!"

"I'm… alright," Orabelle gasped, but her face was pale, and her breath was rattling. She gripped Odrick's hand and squeezed it tight. "I just… need a minute."

Arwyn's hands clenched into fists. He couldn't watch this. Couldn't see another mother fade while her kids begged her to stay. He turned to Nathaniel, voice low and urgent. "We've got to do something. The Quill. If we find it…"

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "It's a long shot, Arwyn. And we don't even know where it is."

"But if it works..."

Santina stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "You're not wrong to hope. But she needs help now, not later."

Orabelle caught her breath, sitting up with effort. "What's this about a Quill?"

"Nothing," Nathaniel said quickly, shooting Arwyn a look. "Just talk."

She studied them, her eyes sharp despite the sickness. "You're not just wanderers, are you? There's more to you three."

Cassandra looked up, her voice small. "They're looking for something big, Mama. I told 'em where the rain's loudest."

Orabelle nodded slowly, then coughed again, weaker this time. "Well, whatever it is, you're welcome here. But don't go chasing dreams that leave you empty."

The words hit Arwyn like a punch. He wanted to argue, to say the Quill wasn't a dream, that it could bring back what he'd lost, what she might lose. But her tired eyes stopped him. She wasn't fighting for herself. She was fighting for them.

Odrick wiped at his face, hiding tears. "I'll clean the mug. You rest, Ma."

Cassandra curled against her, humming her poem again, softer now, like a plea. The rain roared on, and the warmth of the house felt fragile, like a thin shield against the storm and the shadows creeping closer.