Thoughts

Thunderstorms: Three

Edga is Mila's child and the only good thing the woman saw she did in this life that did not involve slaying someone. The child had been the fruit of Mila's love to an Oak and a Knight by the same name. When he had gone to battle, she had asked Azra to go with him so that he would bring him back to her.

That was one of the things Azra could never forgive himself for. He had promised Mila that he would return her lover to him. Instead, he brought back grief and a body to bury. For an entire winter, Mila did not speak to him, and he was sure that that would be the end of their friendship, until one day she came by his dwellings and asked him to relay the events of how he died to her.

Mila's love had fought as brave against the beasts of the Dead Forest as all the twenty thousand soldiers who were in the same squad. That was the day Azra had earned the name 'Sky Mover'. When he saw Mila's love slain, there was the loudest and longest thunderstorm ever seen by anyone. He was ashamed. How was he to face his best friend now that he had failed in the one thing she had tasked him with? It was also the day he became a curse to the Yorite people. Of the twenty thousand, he was the only one to return home live.

Since then, Azra had never stepped on a battlefield without Mila by his side.

"I am sorry."

"You should be," she responded, still avoiding his gaze.

There was a moment of silence before Sila spoke of her departure for home. Mimo and Siza were close behind her and from the looks of it, both were going to pass out as soon as they reach their beds.

"I must be on my way as well," Mila spoke and Azra offered to walk her home. She considered if her irritation for him was enough to deny him that right for a while. In the end, she and he were strolling in the night's air towards Mila's house.

"The sky is beautiful tonight," Mila spoke as they both walked. Azra could see the appeal, but was more concerned that Mila was under the influence now.

"Most people prefer the beauty of a sunrise."

"That's because they do not understand the lure of the moonlight. The same way they do not understand you."

Azra was now very sure that Mila was drunk. She was only philosophical when she was feeling loose and free. That generally happened when she was assisted by rum.

"The Royal girl seems to have a liking towards you."

He almost fell face first on the ground after that comment. What in all blazes brought about all of this from Mila?

"It is irrelevant. She can never understand this life of mine."

"Is that why you refuse to love, Azra? Because you believe that no woman would understand you as you are?"

He was quiet now. She had never asked him about his love life, drunk or sober. Why had he brought about Edga in their conversation earlier?

"Or is it because I am not good enough?"

Azra was now growing quickly uncomfortable with this conversation. Mila was an attractive woman. Ok, if Azra was being sincere, she was more than just attractive, she was a beautiful woman. She was strong and independent, a quality any man would revere in a woman. She was also opinionated and would never take anyone's word as true until she investigated it more for herself.

So why didn't he have her as his beloved? Was it the notions of having known her for too long that she had become something like a sibling to him? Or was it the reminder on Mila's face about the promise he had failed to honor?

"Oh there you are!"

Azra jumped at the sound. He had been so grasped in Mila's words that he did not notice they had already reached her home. The plump woman at the doorway was shorter than Mila but still had the same slick black hair as the drunk woman in Azra's arms. Were it not for the creases on her face, Azra thought she would have passed as Mila's twin anyday.

"I'll take her here, my boy." The woman spoke as Azra carefully placed Mila in her arms, a soft snore emanating from her, "must have been a good party if she is this passed out."

"Victories must be celebrated according to their magnitude, ma'am."

"Oh, enough with that 'ma'am' nonsense. How long have I told you to call me Ella?"

"I believe since I was sixteen winters. But Miral would never allow it and so it is a habit that has stuck with me."

"Cheeky as always," the woman spoke as she half walked, half dragged Mila upstairs, no doubt to her room. Azra walked in and closed the door behind him. The house was warm with the blazing fire in the fireplace. The surfaces gleamed and it was a testament as to how Ella did not believe in dust of any sort in her house, which got Azra thinking just how dirty his house must be being almost a fortnight since he was in it.

"Would you care for a cup of coffee?" Ella's voice came from the stairway as she descended it.

"No, thank you. I must be off myself."

The older woman sighed to herself. She however, told him to take some bread with him since she was sure there was no food in his house. Azra didn't argue with her on this. She did make the best bread in all of Oak, anyway.

Mila's words stuck with him all the time he was walking to his dwelling place. He had never committed to loving any individual in a romantic way. He would say that he did not have any time for it, but that would be a lie. He knew that since Miral had died, he had lost any affinity to look for love in a woman. Mila had been there before even Miral left him. That was not the same as finding a total stranger now to love now.

Why was he even thinking about love? Didn't he have more pressing matters to worry about? The Black Mother had given him much to ponder on. He would occupy his brain more with useful things than fantasies of the fairer gender.

But now, as he switched on the lights, he needed to concentrate on how he would have to clean a house while still having six mugs of rum in him.