Page 68 of A Soul’s Awakening

Eleanor had heard her mother talk about this many times in her sixteen years. For no one in the family to go through what she had gone through, Helena espoused ‘The Circle’ philosophy to all of them. She reiterated time and time again how important it was for them to look after each other and look after themselves. They may not all be blood, but they were all family, and nothing was more important.

Eleanor repeated this mantra back to her mother: “You draw a Circle around the ones you love, and keep them safe, no matter what.” She knew this was why her mother worked so hard, to keep them all safe, fed, and sheltered.

“You got it.” Helena sniffed through her tears. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, a practical look returned to her face, her brow slightly furrowed. She drained her coffee and turned to her daughter. “There’s hot water, El. Finish your breakfast, have a wash and get ready for the ride” Helena rose, the wooden chair scraped over the terracotta tiles. Eleanor winced at the noise. Her mother stepped towards her and kissed the top of her daughter’s wavy hair.

“Can I say bye to Aunty Rose and the boys first?” Eleanor asked.

“Of course. Quickly, though,” she replied.

Eleanor watched as her mother stepped into her riding boots by the back door and made her way outside to where the ponies were kept. She scooped a bowl of hot water from the pot her mother had been boiling on the stove. She took it back to her bedroom to wash and dress. Eleanor had to admit, she looked forward to returning to her school where running water was present, as unfortunately many homes on the Clusters depended on wells to supply their homes with.

After she was ready, sensibly clad in leather riding leggings, a thick jacket, buttoned snugly over the top of a cotton shirt and a knitted red scarf wrapped around her neck, Eleanor padded up the hallway in her thick socks. She gently knocked on Rose’s bedroom door before peeking inside. An oil-lamp light from the hallway cast a gentle glow over the three sleeping faces. They were crammed awkwardly in the bed. Eleanor rolled her eyes at the common sight.

Rose’s twin eleven-year-old boys, Max and Zac, had huddled into their mother’s bed, instead of sleeping in their own, yet again. Eleanor swooped down and kissed each boy on their matching fluffy heads. Their blonde hair was long and curling, reaching down to their shoulders, and covered their ears and faces. Eleanor then circled the bed and kissed Rose’s pale white cheek.

The woman’s startling green eyes fluttered open. “Oh… El… what time is it?” she slurred, still half asleep.

“Really early. Mum and I are heading to Portson now,” Eleanor whispered. “I just wanted to say goodbye to you and the boys.”

“Love you, El.” Rose sat up, pushing her wild, red hair from her forehead. She kissed the teenager on the cheek. “It’s a long trip, look after your Mum.”

Eleanor grinned. “Always. Love you too. Tell the boys as well, yeah?”

“’Course,” Rose replied, slumping back down, her heavy eyelids closing.

Eleanor pushed herself up as she rose from the edge of the sagging bed. She moved silently to the door and eased it shut behind her with a muted click. In the hallway, Eleanor’s hands found the straps of the canvas bags she had packed earlier. She hefted them, moving towards the back door before pausing to pull on her riding boots. She stepped outside, the chill of the early, still-dark morning wrapping around her.

Eleanor spotted her mother waiting in the crisp, early spring air. Her breath rising in soft swirling clouds around her like a fire-breathing dragon, reminding Eleanor of the magnificent creatures illustrated in her school history books. Helena stood beside a pair of sturdy ponies, their thick winter coats gleaming faintly under the muted light of the dawn. The first glow of sunrise stretched over the ocean’s horizon, casting a warm gentle glow over her mother. Eleanor approached with her saddlebags in tow.

“It’s amazing how the ponies are a lot fatter after winter, isn’t it, El?” she mused, raising an eyebrow at her. “It’s almost as though someone has been giving them extra treats.” She roughly patted the barrel belly of the bay-coloured pony, Bun.

Eleanor leant forward and stroked the mane of the grey, Ash. The three children of the household had argued for a solid week about what to call the ponies when Helena had first brought them home. The name Bun had finally been chosen because Rose had baked sticky buns in the wood-burning stove the same day, and Zac had insisted that the colours of the pony and the sweet treat had almost matched. Ash, meanwhile, had been picked as a name because Max had cleaned out the stove and fireplace of the villa the day after the ponies arrived. He had claimed that the ashes and the grey pony’s colour exactly matched.

“Well… winter is a bit boring. We may have been sneaking them extra treats for fun, the boys and I,” Eleanor admitted.

“Why am I not surprised?” Helena sighed.

Her mother strapped Eleanor’s bags between the two hardy ponies while the teenager mounted Ash, the slightly smaller of the two. Bun was mounted shortly afterwards by her mother. Eleanor noticed that Helena pulled a painful grimace as she found her seat in the rustic leather saddle.

“Are you okay, Mum?” asked Eleanor, her sky-blue eyes ever observant, her forehead knitted in concern.

“Yeah, all good,” Helena replied sheepishly. “I went a little hard at our training last week, if I am being honest.”

“Why are you only just telling me this now?” she chided.

“Alright, alright.” Her mother waved a hand dismissively. “I will be fine.”

Three years ago, Helena, with her daughter in tow, had found out a retired faerie soldier had moved into the closest village. Eleanor had been mortified as she watched her mother argue with the goat-horned faerie, a Satyr, to teach the whole family how to defend themselves. The grizzled soldier had baulked at the thought of teaching human peasants, women and children at that, to fight. He soon changed his tune when Helena pressed several gold Seels into his hand. The entire family soon attended the sessions on a weekly basis. Eleanor also did so when she was home from school. She quickly learnt how hard it was to train like the soldiers of the Seelie army. The whole family, Eleanor included, moaned at the beginning, but her mother was insistent.

As she settled further in her saddle, the teenager rubbed absentmindedly at the yellowing bruise on her outer thigh, received at the previous week’s training. Eleanor had fumbled her feet in her fighting stance and slipped in the mud, ending up on her rear.

The mounted pony pair, accompanied by the resident villa mutt, set off down the track that took them to the closest village. From there, they would take their path down a bigger pressed earth road to the ancient causeway, all the way to Portson.

Eleanor watched as Helena gazed down, smile soft, at the scruffy creature by Ash’s side. “You’re coming too, then?”

Eleanor smiled at her mother’s interaction with the dog. There was a soft heart underneath her hardened exterior. Helena had the frequent habit of bringing home waifs and strays, like Biscuit.

On the road they heard the Siren’s song again. His voice sounded joyful and laced with excitement. Eleanor watched for Helena’s reaction. Her mother’s spine straightened, and she half turned her head back towards the sea.