Page 61 of Stars in Aura

Even a few feet away from her, she sensed him awake, alert, coiled over his sleeping pallet like a predator lying in wait.

Issa exhaled, shifting onto her side, prepared to let exhaustion take her too.

Then, a soft tug at the edge of her quilt.

Her body tensed. Eyes flickering open, she stared into Zera’s broad, golden gaze.

The young woman knelt beside her barefoot, her face glowing in the dim firelight filtering through the cracks of the banda walls.

‘Come with me,’ Zera muttered.

Issa rubbed a hand over her face, pushing away sleep.

She should have saidnada.

However, the expression in the girl’s eyes told her the need was desperate.

She sighed and knifed up with care.

She pulled on her boots and uniform jacket, then rose, tip-toeing over her crew’s sleeping forms, mindful not to wake them.

Ignoring the searing heat of Ki’Remi’s eyes as he tracked her exit.

Fokk him, she thought, shaking off his imagined disdain as she followed Zera into the moonlit village.

‘Where are we going?’ she whispered.

The girl just placed a finger over her lips.

Resigning herself to silence, Issa pressed on with her slight companion.

The jungle rustled beyond the huts, alive with nocturnal creatures. The occasional chirp of insects blended with the distant hoot of an Allorian owl.

Firelight flickered from the hamlet center, where embers still smoldered from the night’s feast.

Zera led her to a small banda on the village’s north side. On its veranda, candles arranged in simple clay holders lit the place.

A young couple sat on the steps outside, their faces lined with worry, their hands clasped together as they murmured soft prayers.

They glanced up with tears as Issa and Zera stepped past them.

On the small terrace, a woman, likely a grandmother, rocked a child in her arms, her voice soothing and rhythmic, a lullaby so ancient it had been sung for generations.

The toddler in her grasp stirred and gave a frail cry, its stomach swollen and distended, its skin stretched tight, and its slight frame weakened by illness.

Zera turned to Issa. ‘I heard about what you did,’ she whispered. ‘At the feast. You healed the warrior who had the arrow wound. You did it with light.’

Issa inhaled.

She should have guessed someone would see.

She’d slipped away at the start of the evening meal, noticing the limping young man.

Minutes later, she’d worked her so-called voodoo magic, leaving behind one overjoyed customer.

She should have known he’d share.

Now, she glanced at the child’s face, pale, drawn, his breath shallow.

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