A Path Toward Home (The Annals of Avonea) by Heather Lorenz Page B

him?” Drinian asked, putting her down.
    Rosella nodded her head, and rushed ahead of them.
    “You know her?”
    “Yes, Woodphere and I come here often trying to help them. Not all of them trust us, though.”
    “Because of the Molters?”
    “Yes, although we have been able to establish relationships with a few different families, which is a start.”
    They stopped talking and followed Rosella to a tiny wooden hut, resembling one you might see in an African village. A red haired woman greeted them at the door as they came in.
    “Your Majesty, I am so grateful you are here. Razelle has been waiting for you for over a month!” the women exclaimed.
    “I am sorry we did not come sooner,” Drinian replied.
    When they walked inside the small hut Drinian immediately went over to the corner of the room. A small child lying in bed appeared to be nearly eight years old.
    “Drinian, you have come!” Razelle beamed, as he sat up in his bed.
    “Hello, Razelle. How are you feeling?” Drinian asked, sitting down on the little boy’s bed.
    “I feel much better now that you have come!”
    Constance leaned over and whispered into Woodphere's ear.
    “What is the matter with him?”
    “He's crippled in both legs,” Woodphere whispered back.
    “Was he born that way, or was he in an accident?”
    “He was in an accident two years ago. He was playing outside when his ball rolled under a wagon. He ran to get it, but the horse spooked and the wagon wheels rolled over his legs, breaking both of them. He was fortunate that he did not have to have them amputated.”
    “How terrible,” Constance whispered.
    “Here, I have a present for you,” Drinian said, pulling out of his satchel a gingerbread cookie.
    “Thank you, Drinian!” Razelle replied, his eyes wide with excitement, as he reached for the treat.
    “Rosella, do you want one too?” Drinian asked, seeing that Rosella was standing in the corner licking her lips.
    Rosella wrinkled up her nose with delight as she took the cookie from Drinian.
    “Where is Warrick, Mrs. Monroe?” Drinian asked, as he stood up.
    “Oh, he has finally found work Your Majesty, working in the fields,” Mrs. Monroe replied.
    “I am glad to hear that. Oh, and where are my manners, Mrs. Monroe? This is Constance,” Drinian announced.
    “Constance, what a beautiful name! Your Majesty did not tell me that you were betrothed.”
    “Oh, no...,” Drinian said, trying to interrupt her.
    “We must have a feast to celebrate!”
    “Oh no, you are mistaken. We are not engaged at all,” Constance said hastily.
    “You’re not?”
    “No, I am simply helping her return to her world,” Drinian added.
    “Oh my, what a pickle I've gotten myself into this time,” Mrs. Monroe exclaimed. “Well at least Reagan will be …., I mean you should really go visit Reagan while your here, she would enjoy that.”
    Drinian hesitated but finally answered, “I will have to do that.”
    “And I do hope you will stay the night Your Majesty.”
    “Will that be alright?” Drinian asked Woodphere, who was standing in the doorway.
    “Indeed, thank you, we will accept your offer,” Woodphere replied.
    At that moment a petite young woman swept into the room. She was beautiful with long black hair which flowed to her waist, and had dark eyes, with extremely long eye-lashes.
    “Drinian, you have come!” She exclaimed with a coy smile.
    “Reagan …. I haven’t seen you in ages,” Drinian replied without enthusiasm.
    “Yes, it has been at least four months. How long will you be staying?”
    “Only tonight and tomorrow night.”
    Reagan was so absorbed with Drinian that Constance didn't think Reagan even noticed her or Woodphere.
    “Reagan, this is Constance, and you already know Woodphere,” Drinian said, breaking the silence.
    “Oh … It is a pleasure to meet you, Constance,” Reagan stammered, with disappointment in her voice.
    “Drinian is taking Constance back to her world,” Mrs. Monroe craftily