Darin turned back to the pile of wood Ridahne had collected to actually start the fire, “You already know everything there is to know about me. I’m a farmer’s daughter whose mother wishes would act more like a girl. The village elders wish I wasn’t so defiant. I taught myself how to farm, and just when I was starting to get the hang of it, I got sent off on a near impossible journey.”

There wasn’t much more to tell that Ridahne didn’t know. Darin’s life was boring compared to the Elf’s. The most exciting thing that had happened to her before the Gardener came to her home was the day her father left. Exciting was the wrong word. That was more depressing than anything else. Darin looked at her carefully constructed pile of small twigs. She then pulled her flint and striker out of her pocket. She struck the flint to the metal in order to get the spark necessary. As soon as she had a small twig barely lit, she bent down to carefully blow on the flame, so it danced across the rest of the kindling. The fire stuck so Darin sat back up. She had done such an action countless times. Patience was key. That was true for most of farming. Rushin did not make the crops grow any faster. Darin looked back out at the rain. The world sent at its own pace.

Darin turned to look at Reidahne, “What more is there to tell you?”

The human was genuinely curious as to what else the Elf could want to know. Darin didn’t really have any secrets to keep from her. She didn’t think. There were things Darin wasn’t going to tell anyone, but those all related to The Seed. Personally, Darin didn’t see any reasons to keep secrets from Ridahne. The human knew that the Elf didn’t feel the same way. Darin knew that she didn’t want to talk about why she had been exiled. She also didn’t seem inclined to talk about her home. Darin didn’t want to press. She was curious, but they had just meet yesterday. It wasn’t her place.

Darin looked down at the Elf’s leg. There was another tattoo there. It was all blues and whites and blacks. Darin was smart enough to know that the tattoos on her companion’s face meant something. It was highly probable that the one Ridahne was working on, on her leg, meant something as well. Darin knew that the Elf was joking when she offered the tattoo. Besides, the human didn’t really want one. It looked like Ridahne was piercing her own skin over and over again with the needles. That level of pain was not something that was appealing to the human. Though Darin did have to wonder: would Ridahne one day bare a mark that told the world she had helped The Seed-Bearer? That tattoo couldn’t be blue or white or black. The Seed was an apple seed. If Ridahne were to ever carry such a mark it would have to be red or green or yellow. It would have to be Apple colored. Darin didn’t know how, but she just knew that much. Some apples were even pink. What would Ridahne look like; with a pink tattoo.

Darin found herself asking another question, “Can tattoos be other colors beside the colors or yours or those red ones? Can they be pink or green?”