Finding Home

Ronon has to decide where his home truly lies - with a blue-eyed doctor or a village claiming to be his people.


15. 15

Ronon remained standing underneath the shade tree as the young Vi'denus disappeared through the open doorway of the cottage. He had stared at her through narrowed eyes as her hips swayed seductively under the form fitting dress. She never once turned to see if he followed her; for the young seductress knew he would, and that annoyed him tremendously.

So much so, that it took him a few minutes to become conscious of the fact that he was still staring at the entrance way; his breathing heavy. Casting his gaze to the ground, he breathed deeply – in and out – trying to get control over his mind and body. Both were equally traitorous at the moment.

Ronon realized that the Vi'denusi were notorious for enticing men to their beds. If his brief encounter with this woman was any indication, he now understood how easily the art of seduction was for them. A hesitant glance. A flirtatious smile. The slight teasing sway of their hips. A male could quickly become ensnared by a witch's subtle charms and beauty; just to be used, then set free by the morning's dawn to deal with the ramifications of a single night's folly.

Both, man and the inner beast, were alert to any dangers of enticement. Ronon would follow the witch to solve the riddle of his dream; to find answers to his questions. He would not, however, allow this woman to tarnish what he held most dear to his heart. He would never do anything that would jeopardize his relationship with Jennifer. Ronon silently vowed not to fall prey to the witch's charms. Her seduction. He would hold fast to his unspoken devotion to Jennifer. His cor'amare. His heart's love.

He made a lone pact between himself and whatever Fates existed. If he felt that at any time he was falling under her spell as to where he could not return, he would leave without getting the answers he so desperately sought. He would leave before the witch had him completely wrapped up in her web.

Or, he thought, he could just shoot the bitch. Either way, Ronon would stay true to Jennifer - his woman.

Meanwhile, in addition to the captivating siren, another threat was apparent. The Vi'denus called him by name and knew his reason for being here without him telling her. Ronon stood racking his brain as to how the witch possibly knew that.

Holding a tight rein on his thoughts and urges, he wondered if it was possible that they had met before on Sateda. Before the Wraith attacked? Seven plus years ago was a long time, but it could be possible that their paths had crossed, he grudgingly thought. But he did not know how.

Thinking hard upon the idea, Ronon was positive that he had never met this woman before in his life until now. He certainly would have remembered a creature with such beauty as she possessed. She could not have easily been forgotten - not even in passing. He could not remember, yet she acted as if they were old acquaintances.

He squeezed shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and took a deep breath. He had to concentrate. To think.

The Vi'denusi were not telepathic, he knew that. They could not read thoughts; just predict snippets of future events. There actually were a select few, he remembered, that also had the capability of contacting and communicating with souls living in the afterlife. These Vi'denusi were a rarity.

Was it possible that she was a different type of Vi'denus; one he had not heard of – one with special talents? He softly snorted. Special talents indeed. He was sure reading minds was not one of her many gifts; however, she was greatly endowed with others.

Opening his eyes, Ronon growled his frustration. He clenched his fist and clutched tightly to his gun with the other. He glared up at those damn clanging wind chimes. They swayed like her hips and rang through his head like a hypnotic cadence. He shook his head trying to clear his mind of her and the noise. It was becoming more difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. All he had to do was decipher the dream, return to the village, say his good-byes and gate back to Jennifer. He loosened the chain on the dark beast – his anger – which helped him get some control over himself.

Letting out a low rumbling growl from deep within, he pushed all reasoning aside, and against his better judgement followed her. Curiosity propelled him – curiosity and a need. A need to know, if she could help rid him of his dream – help him to make a choice. Who should he choose? Ronon was sure that the witch would give him the answer. One way or another he would get an answer.

Making his way towards the dwelling, his warrior instincts were on edge. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Ronon turned and scanned the area making sure that she did not have an accomplice or two hiding somewhere ready to ambush him. What were the odds that this was a trap of some sorts? Extremely high, he warned himself. Ronon stood just outside the doorway for a few moments more, then having decided that everything seemed safe enough; he holstered his gun, and entered the cottage.

Ronon had to duck his head as he passed through the doorway. His hulking frame dominated the rustic one room cottage and his towering height nearly had the top of his head skimming the crossbeams of the ceiling. Standing just inside the dwelling, his eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness of the interior. He looked around – taking in the quiet solace of her quarters.

Herbs and long stemmed flowers were in various stages of drying as they hung from the rafters overhead. The fragrance of the bundles permeated the room giving off a rather pleasant woodsy floral scent. To his right he noticed several wooden shelves that held numerous books which seemed to be well read by the looks of their tattered and faded covers. Next to the book shelves a small cupboard with stain glass doors held neatly organized jars, of what he assumed to be medicines – tonics, powders and elixirs.

A stone fireplace occupied the opposite wall. A small blackened cast-iron pot sat off to one side of the hearth with the smell of stew simmering. The fire's smoldering embers kept the meal warm, while several logs burned slowly off to the other side of the fireplace warding off the soon to come night chill. Upon the mantle, more jars of dried herbs and powders along with two box lanterns which sat on opposite ends of each other finished off the meager decor.

A wooden table, with two mismatched chairs, was situated near an open window across from him. A slight breeze ruffled a vase of wild flowers that sat upon the table – their fragrance pleasing. Peaceful.

A narrow bed occupied the corner closest to the fireplace. A multicolored quilt covered the bed along with too many pillows for one person to sleep upon.

It seemed that there were various bleached skulls of small animals everywhere - on the beams, the window sills and shelves. Smaller chimes resembling the one's outside hung from the beams. These were made from bone, shells and sticks but equally as annoying as he bumped into them with his great height.

The entire place was well suited for a solitary soul, Ronon concluded. This place was perfect for a Vi'denus. A witch. A seductress.

At that thought, Ronon caught her looking at him with those honey-colored eyes as she stood next to the table.

The beast strained to be set free. Ronon struggled to keep control.

Grinding out through clenched teeth, Ronon demanded, "Who are you!" His voice gruff.

The witch just smiled sweetly and replied, "Come. Sit."

She motioned to one of the chairs at the table, and then continued, "We have a lot to talk about."

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