“A trail,” I said.
Joran frowned at me for a long moment before understanding dawned on his face. “You found a Djarn trail?”
Sophie sucked in a sharp breath, looking from Joran to me. “They don’t have a trail. Do they?”
Tara shook her head. “Don’t go putting ideas in her head,” she said to me. “She’s likely to go running off into the rain, thinking that she can find the Djarn.”
“With a rain like this, it probably got washed away,” Joran said. “Too bad, really.” He looked over to me, putting his back to the window. Still, he stiffened every time thunder rumbled, which wasn’t nearly as often as it had been. It seemed as if the storm was finally starting to pass.
As soon as it did I would have to get back. I could only imagine what my sister and mother were thinking right now.
“Are you sure that it was a Djarn trail?”
“I don’t know what it was,” I said. “There were footprints leading into the forest, and when I got far enough in, I saw what looked to be a trail.”
Joran whistled softly. “We’ve always believed they had a trail system throughout the forest.”
“We have?” Tara asked. “We don’t know much about the Djarn. Even Dad doesn’t, and he’s the one who can claim to know them the best.”
Joran shrugged. “Pops and I figured they had a trail system. We never found any evidence of it. No one has, as far as I know. No one has even seen footprints.”
“Which is why it’s probably not one of the Djarn,” Joran’s father, Bernt, said as he stepped out of the kitchen. He was a burly man with a thick, reddish-brown beard. He had pale blue eyes that practically sparkled, almost as if he was constantly amused. His shaggy, brown hair stretched to his shoulders. He was every bit the wild plainsman.
“You know it’s not one of the Djarn, Papa?” Sophie asked.
Bernt took a seat on the bench on the far side of the room. Sophie ran over to him, jumping and landing in his lap, looking up at him with adoring eyes. “I’ve lived out here on the plains for nearly forty years. In all that time, I’ve seen the Djarn a few times, more than most, and that was when they wanted to come out and trade. Never seen their footsteps.”
“They like to leave a token at the edge of our lands when they want to trade,” Sophie said, turning to me. She clasped her hands in front of her, rocking in place as she sat on her father’s lap. “Carvings, usually. Papa has a few of them.”
Bernt nodded slowly, picking up a book resting on the ground next to him and thumbing through it. “That I do. I probably have more Djarn carvings than anyone out here. Mostly because we live so close to the forest, but also because I’m willing to trade items from Berestal with them. Not all are, you know.”
“Because they think the Djarn might take their children,” Sophie said, giggling. “Like that would happen.”
“It’s more likely to be the Vard who kidnap you,” Joran said. “They like younger girls.”
“Joran!” his father said, his voice sharp. “You need to be careful with the kind of things you say.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Would the Vard really do that?” Sophie asked, resting her head back on her father’s shoulder. “Would they take girls like me?”
“It’s possible,” Bernt said carefully. “These days, maybe. Not in the old days.” He shook his head. “These days, the Vard have been known to kidnap those from the kingdom.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” Tara said. She took a seat not far from her father, as she looked over to me, smiling slightly.
“The Vard have been at war with the kingdom for the better part of twenty years, at least according to them. They believe all of this land should be theirs.”
“The king claimed it,” Sophie said.
“Aye, the king claimed it. And most think we’re better off for it. We have the protection of the dragons, which helps keep us safe.”
“The Vard haven’t attacked in years.” Tara shook her head, turning to look at the fire. “They aren’t going to attack.”
“You don’t know that,” Sophie said. “Think of how many sympathizers there are in Berestal,” she added.
“Where did you learn that word?” Bernt asked, shaking his head.
“Momma said it. I heard her talking the other day. She was saying how because there are so many Vard sympathizers in Berestal,we’re going to have an uprising.” She looked over to Joran, glaring at him before turning her attention to me, her expression softening only a little.
I laughed to myself seeing that bit of rebellion in Sophie.
Finally, she looked back at her father. “You think we’re going to have an uprising?”
Bernt shook his head. “I doubt it. The people in Berestal know there is no point in doing so. Not that we would have much of a chance if they did.”
“The dragons haven’t been sent to this part of the kingdom in a long time,” Tara said. “Might be better to have the Vard than the dragons.” When her father looked at her, she held his gaze for a moment before looking away.
Silence fell , leaving me strangely uncomfortable. “I saw a dragon.”
Joran looked over to me. “You what?”
“When I was leaving the forest. I saw a dragon. Thought I saw one the other day, but didn’t know for sure. This time…”
“How certain are you?” he asked.
“A dragon is pretty easy to spot,” I said. “Especially when it’s breathing fire and swooping in circles over the forest.”
Sophie’s eyes grew wide.“I always love seeing the dragons, but they’re usually too far from us for me to see. Do you think it was hunting?”
“The only thing he could hunt from above would be trees,” Joran said.
Sophie glared at him. “Papa tells me not
