Chapter Nine

The Storm

"Never lose hope. Storms make people stronger and never last forever."

~ Roy T. Bennett; The Light In The Heart

The Black Prince led his men along one of the many paths through the Wayless Wood, taking all precautions to stay well away from the soldiers the queen positioned in the forest to keep people from poaching the castle's game. There would be more of them now, on the search for the Fire-Dancer and his daughter. The queen had most likely put a decent price on their heads too, luring mercenaries and other soldiers alike into the depths of the woods in hope of delivering the fugitives to the castle and reaping the bountiful rewards. No one escaped the Castle of Night and got away with it if the queen had anything to say about the ordeal. It only made it more urgent to get them across the border to the safety of Lombrica.

At least under the shade of the trees, the weather was cooler and a slight breeze managed to make its way through the foliage, rustling the leaves above them. It made the long, strenuous walk a little easier.

Dustfinger walked close to the Prince, carrying Rosanna securely in his arms as they made their way along the path. The little girl had one arm wrapped around his neck, a small hand occasionally wandering to play with his hair or hold on to his shirt. She kept the other on his shoulder as she turned to look at things she had not seen in a long time; the fairies that fluttered by the wildflowers, the fire elves buzzing in their nests, the birds singing from their stages in the canopy of leaves above them. But fear had settled in her heart now, taking from her some of the wonder of the forest. Every time an animal rustled in the underbrush, every time the wind blew suddenly through the trees above, filling the silence with noise, the child would startle, fear of the soldiers returning to her mind.

Every so often, Dustfinger would look down at her, wanting to make sure she was alright. Her head was still hurting her, he knew, though she had stopped complaining when she finally realized there was nothing anyone could do to help her. Even so, she could not help the quiet whines that escaped her when she tried to lay her head against his shoulder or the tears that occasionally welled up in her eyes when the pain got too bad.

Dustfinger tried to distract her from the pain; stroking her hair and whispering to her, pointing out details in the landscape as they walked. He wished for nothing more than to take the pain from her completely, but this was all he could do.

Rosanna tried to lay her head down once more. He could tell she was tired. They hadn't been able to stop and let the child nap and she couldn't do so in his arms without jostling her head and bringing the pain back stronger. She gave a loud whine in protest, quickly picking her head back up as it bumped against his shoulder with the movements of his steps.

"Shh. I know, little one," Dustfinger sighed quietly as he gently stroked her hair back. He too couldn't help but give in to the exhaustion that was beginning to come over him. They had been walking since sunrise and the sun was already disappearing over the horizon now.

"We'll be there soon," said the Prince, looking back towards them with a look of pity at the little girl's whine. "The camp shouldn't be too far away now."

Rosanna only looked at the Prince for a moment, giving no response to his words before turning her gaze back to her father again. Dustfinger, however, gave a nod as he walked along. Even though he had been able to eat and rest in peace the night before, the days in the dungeon with no food and barely any water mixed with restless nights were slowing him down. Normally, he wouldn't have even shown how tired he was, but today he did not have the energy to fight it.

"We're close now," said the Prince as the sound of running water reached their ears. "It should be right up here."

Dustfinger straightened up a bit at the sound, some energy flowing back into him. Glancing over at Rosanna, he noticed once again the dried blood that still stained her skin and matted in her hair. He hadn't been able to clean her off properly with the limited supply of water and her insistence not to be touched, but perhaps here with the river, he could finally get her washed off. It would be a shame if she had to travel all the way like that and it certainly wouldn't be a good idea to return the child to her mother covered in blood as she was.

Rosanna pressed her hands against his shoulders, pushing herself up a little more to look for the source of the sound. As some of the foliage began to give way to the bank of the river, a small smile began to form on her face but it was quickly whisked away with a sharp intake of breath by the pain it brought on.

Dustfinger cast his daughter a sympathetic glance, lightly brushing her hair away from her face as he made his way over to the edge of the water. He sat down, placing her in his lap so she faced him and tapping her nose playfully as they settled. Another small smile tried to appear but she quickly caught herself this time. Guilt rose up in him for what seemed like the hundredth time as he watched her.

"Does anyone have another spare piece of cloth I could use?" he asked, glancing over at the players. One of the men produced a small piece of cloth from his pocket and handed it to him. Dustfinger gave a quick nod in thanks before turning his attention back towards his daughter.

Before he soaked the cloth, he reached for the bandage around Rosanna's head, carefully undoing it and pulling it away. "Alright, little one," he said softly. "Let's get you washed up a bit more."

Rosanna cast a nervous glance at the cloth as she leaned forward to pull herself close to him, lower lip trembling with just the anticipation of the pain. "It's gonna hurt," she mumbled under her breath, careful not to move too much.

The cut on her cheek stood out even more now that the bleeding had stopped, leaving trails of red across her face and back into her hair. It was more obvious now just how deep and long it was and Basta hadn't even been finished yet. And everyone knew Basta had taken his time slicing that cut into her face.

"I'll try not to hurt you," he told her. "I promise."

He rubbed his thumb across her uninjured cheek before dunking the bandage in the water, running his hands along the thin strip of fabric to try and remove as much blood and dirt as he could. When he was sure it was clean enough, he wrung it out and laid it on the rock next to him to dry. He took the cloth and dipped it into the water, squeezing it slightly to remove the excess water.

Choosing to start with the older wound, knowing this one wouldn't hurt her, he gently wiped away the blood from her neck and shoulders. She seemed to relax when she realized the water wasn't hurting her as she had expected. Once he had gotten all the blood off her neck, he worked his way up along her cheek.

He paused for a moment as he looked at the cut, trying to conceal the pain he felt at the thought of his child going through that and how much worse it still could have been. He had to force away the images that played in his mind; images detailing what would have happened if the Prince hadn't shown up. Taking a deep breath, he gently touched the skin around the cut, not wanting to hurt her if he could help it.

As soon as the water touched the open wound, Rosanna flinched back, giving a shrill whine that soon turned to a pitiful whimper. Dustfinger sighed as he lowered the cloth, giving her a moment to calm down.

"I have to clean it, little one," he said softly. "I don't want you to get sick because we didn't." He ran his hand over her curls, kissing her nose before dipping the cloth in the water one last time. "I promise I'll do it as fast as I can. Then you can eat and get some sleep."

"It hurts." Her voice was only a whisper, trembling with her own fear of the pain to come. Scooting herself forward, she pressed herself close to him as if hiding, the uninjured side of her face against his chest as little hands moved to wrap themselves in the fabric of his shirt.

"I know," he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "But I don't want you to get sick if I don't do it. You can still hold on to me, okay?"

Rosanna's eyes slowly moved up to meet his, though she did not answer him for a long moment. For a second, her expression slipped into a look of displeasure. He could hear the sharp intake of breath as it passed her lips, expression slackening to try and relieve the pain of the movement. Another moment passed, and finally, she gave a feeble nod but she did not move.

"Okay, Daddy," she said under her breath, fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt.

Dustfinger gave her another small smile before gently touching the damp rag to the side of her face. He cleaned the area carefully, making sure it didn't start bleeding again, before putting the rag down.

"There," he said with another small smile. "All done."

"All done," came the little girl's voice, echoing his own as if she had to reassure herself of this too. Her eyes met his, revealing the tears the pain brought to them, before laying her head against his chest again. He could tell she was trying her best not to cry, having learned after the pain of her injury brought tears on twice earlier in the day that her cries only made the pain worse.

"That's right, little one," he told her, letting her lay there for a moment before retrieving the bandage. The fabric had dried quickly with the sunlight beating down on it and the gentle breeze. Careful not to hurt her, he wrapped the fabric back around her head, letting her curls fall back over it after it was tied.

As soon as he was done, she returned once again to where she sat pressed against him, moving this time to wrap her arms around him. Dustfinger ran a hand across her hair, letting her rest for another moment. She looked so exhausted, having been unable to sleep while they traveled.

"Come on, little one," he said after a moment. "Let's go eat."

Dustfinger walked slowly to where the others had set up camp a short distance away and sat down against one of the trees, setting his daughter down in his lap. Rosanna lay back against him, watching the strolling players mill about the makeshift camp, preparing the night's meal, through heavy blinks. One tiny hand moved to slip into her father's, the other moving a feather-light touch across the bandage around her head.

Soon, the Prince approached the two with their food, decent portions of the rabbits they had caught on their way and some bread they had been traveling with. Dustfinger gave a grateful nod as he took the food, handing Rosanna a little of the meat before tearing off a portion of the bread for himself.

As if acting on instinct alone, Rosanna's hand shot out to quickly claim her portion of the food, shoveling what she was given into her mouth. After one or two painful bites and a quiet whine, she slowed her chewing to a more cautious rate, careful not to move too fast or open her mouth too wide. Dustfinger ran a comforting hand over her hair before splitting the rest of the food between them. After only days in those dungeons, he had almost forgotten what good food actually tasted like. He couldn't imagine what his daughter had gone through.

"Slowly, little one," Dustfinger instructed, giving a short chuckle, though the way she filled her tiny fists full of food, as if someone would take it from her if she didn't claim it right then, filled him with a mixture of anger and pity. "The food will still be there when you've finished that bite, I promise."

The corners of Rosanna's lips turned up into a ghost of a smile as her dark eyes moved to meet his and Dustfinger couldn't help smiling back as she returned to her food, still eating no less fervently as before.

It didn't take her long to finish, she ate so little. "All done," she announced, looking up at him once more.

He brushed a few stray breadcrumbs from the corners of her mouth, smiling down at her. "Was it good?" he asked, tone almost teasing.

"Mm-hmm," she replied, giving a slow nod of her head. "Really good."

"I think so too," Dustfinger said as he leaned back against the tree again, holding Rosanna so that she lay against him.


Night had fallen long ago but dark clouds made the night darker, blotting out the silver streams of moonlight that fell through the leaves. Thunder began to rumble in the distance as rain moved closer to the small group of motley men sleeping among the trees. Most of the players were sleeping now save for the two men who waited up by the fire, talking in hushed voices as they kept watch for soldiers and creatures of the night. The storm stayed distant, luring the two men to believe it would pass but the rain soon began to fall, at first a few drops but it slowly grew until droplets of water poured from the sky. The transition took only moments, catching the camp off guard.

Dustfinger jolted upright as the sounds of the downpour surrounded him, water falling through the leaves above until it came to land cool against his skin. His eyes darted around wildly until he realized the source of his fear was only a storm. Cries soon filled the air, the sound rising above the rain. He looked down towards the sound and met the tear-filled eyes of the child in his arms.

Realizing how he and the rain must have startled her, he wrapped his arms tightly around Rosanna's small frame. "You're okay, Rosie," he said soothingly. "It's just a little rain. I didn't mean to scare you."

One small hand moved to rest on the side of her face, fingers cupping the injury there. Teardrops mingled with the tears on her cheeks, hair flattening against her face and neck as the water weighed it down. Dustfinger pushed the soaking curls back behind her ears and pulled her with him as he moved further under the shelter of the trees. It had smothered the fire the strolling players had made, coating the camp in darkness so thick it was hard to see even the child in his lap.

Lightning flashed overhead and a short, shrill scream accompanied the thunder that followed. Rosanna ducked down, her hands flying up to press against her ears as her gaze shifted up towards the sky. Dustfinger held her close, one hand held protectively against the bandage around her head in case the water loosened it. Leaning slightly forward, he whispered comforting words into her ear, voice just loud enough to be heard over the rain and her hands and as his words reached her ears, she let one hand fall.

A thunderstorm was most definitely not what she needed. It wasn't what anyone needed, not out here with no shelter but the trees. Rosanna was finally getting some rest but now who knew how long they would be kept awake by the storm. The thunder kept the girl's cries from quieting and he could already feel the warm blood beginning to pool under the soaking bandage as her movements irritated the injury.

Dustfinger leaned his head down to rest against Rosanna's, continuing his quiet reassurances as he watched the storm continue on. It didn't seem like it would calm anytime soon and his heart ached as he felt his baby's shoulders shaking with her cries. Rosanna had always been such a happy baby and he had heard her cry too often over the past few days alone.

Lightning flashed overhead again, briefly illuminating the woods below it and revealing the location of the other players huddled under their own trees. At the sight of it, Rosanna quickly returned her hand to her uncovered ear, trying to drown out the sounds of the thunder, but after a moment, she dropped it again, seeking her father's voice for comfort.

"Daddy," she whimpered as her eyes turned to him.

"I know, Rosie." Dustfinger gave a quick, reassuring nod. He took his hands and wiped both raindrops and tears from her cheeks, though they were too quickly replaced with more. "It'll be over soon. I'll be right here the whole time."

Rosanna nodded, though her expression never lost the notes of fear and desperation. Dustfinger pressed a quick kiss to her nose in an attempt to cheer her up but even that seemed to have little effect. By now, he was soaked through, his own hair clinging to his face and neck but he paid it little mind, all too used to the rain after so many years of traveling in both his world and Silvertongue's. Rosanna shivered in his arms as she lay her head against him. She seemed to make herself as small as possible, sniffling as she attempted to use the sleeve of her free hand to wipe her face, but it did little, the fabric being just as wet as the rest of her.

He couldn't help but think of how uncomfortable tomorrow would be. They still had a lot of ground to cover and they were losing a lot of sleep waiting out this storm. Especially Rosanna, who still took naps at least once a day, even in the Castle of Night. And it would take hours for their clothes to dry once the rain died out. If it ever dies out, he added in his mind, eyes moving towards the sky though he saw nothing but darkness and the faint outline of the leaves that whipped around in the wind.

Another loud clap of thunder rippled through the air, making his daughter jump and her cries worsen once more. It was a vicious cycle. Every time he calmed the girl, the flash of lightning or the roar of thunder only made her fear worse again.

"Shh," he whispered as he rocked her back and forth. If he closed his eyes, he could remember a time when this same little girl was so much smaller, not even a year old, crying at even the slightest rumble of thunder no matter how distant, even if it was so far off you could hardly see the lightning. He or Roxane had had to rock her like this then, their whispered words or Roxane's quiet lullabies drowning out the sound and luring her to sleep at last. Sometimes it would even wake Brianna, and the older child would sleepily crawl out of bed to pat the baby's tiny arm and press kisses to her face. The infant was only satisfied then when she was sleeping between them both, both their hands on her, promising to keep her safe while she slept.

Rosanna glanced back at him and in the next flash of light, he could see the red in her cheeks brought on by her sobbing. She took the hand she dared to let free and curled in it close to her, her cries turning from something frantic to something more pitiful at the motion. Dustfinger noticed the way she watched him, eyes never leaving his face, and made a face himself, wrinkling his nose as he smiled.

A small giggle cut through the quiet cries, the pain of her expressions almost forgotten under the effects of the adrenaline the thunder sent coursing through her veins. Dustfinger couldn't help the smile that grew on his face as he poked the child in the stomach even if he wanted to.

The child's giggle turned to a laugh, both hands moving down to shield the place in which he'd poked her. His smile only brightened. That was a sound he had not heard since he had gotten her back. The child had had to muffle her laughter before for fear of angering the soldiers.

Dustfinger put a hand on either side of her face and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. He loved seeing that smile, so like her mother's. He'd always thought the sight of it could light up the world if it wanted to.

Rosanna's little hands moved to rest against his. All of a sudden, the toddler moved to kiss him on the nose. Dustfinger smiled as he leaned his forehead against hers. His Rosie was beginning to act like herself again for the first time since Basta took his knife to her face. And in the middle of a thunderstorm no less.

Rosanna looked up at him without moving her head, her hands reaching out to run lightly across his face. Dustfinger let his eyes close, suddenly so very thankful that Death had returned the child to them. Even in Silvertongue's world, not a day went by when she and her mother and sister had not crossed his mind, whether he wanted the memories to or not and when he came home only to discover he would never see his youngest baby again, that she had died long ago while he was helpless to get to her, the pain and the longing for that small face only increased. But now, he was holding her in his arms. He finally had his little one back and he could never be more grateful.

Rosanna opened her mouth to say something but before she could another jolt of lightning connected the clouds to the ground, the roar of thunder quickly following. A small squeak of fear replaced her words, whatever they had been, and Dustfinger pulled her close once again.

"You're okay, little one," he said again. "It's just the storm, nothing to worry about. I've got you." Her dark eyes, wide and filling with yet more tears, met his again and he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "It'll be gone soon."

"Soon?" she asked, expression revealing her desperation for this storm to finally pass. Dustfinger gave a nod and pulled her into a tight hug, her little fingers clutching at his shirt again.

"I want to go home now, Daddy," she added, voice so soft he scarcely heard it over the falling of the rain. She looked up at him almost pleadingly, as if he held the power to instantly take them home.

Dustfinger looked at his daughter helplessly. They were still so far from home and there was not a thing he could do to speed their journey. "We'll be there soon, Rosie," he told her. "Only another day or two. And the storm is going away now."

"It's going away?" Rosanna looked up at the sky though she could hardly see it, eyes squinted against the falling raindrops.

"Mm-hmm," he nodded. "When the thunder takes a long time to make noise after the lightning, that means it's going away."

Another smile appeared on the child's lips though this one was smaller than the first. Rosanna rested her head against him again and he kissed her soaked curls before laying his head against hers to wait out the rest of the rain. Just as he had said, the rain soon began to fade and the moonlight began to peer through the gaps of the lingering storm clouds. The thunder, which had come every few minutes before, now came rarely and only from far off.

Rosanna visibly relaxed now that it was over. Her crying had finally stopped, though even the distant thunder made her cower away from the sound in his embrace.

"See that, Rosie?" Dustfinger smiled and hugged the little girl. "All gone."

"All gone," Rosanna repeated, her gaze tipping upwards to look at the steadily clearing sky as though she never thought she would see it again, her bright smile illuminated by the moon.