Free Arianna Rose: The Arrival (Part 4) by Jennifer Martucci, Christopher Martucci

comeback, movement in her peripheral vision demanded her attention.  Wide leaves shivered to her left, almost undetectably, but she sensed someone there, someone like them. 
    “We’re not alone,” she said as a form slid from the concealment of the trees. 
    A man with mocha-colored skin, trim and lean, materialized from the shadows looking like a mythical warrior.  Each step he took was deliberate, his stride lithe and graceful. 
    “Ramiel, good to see you,” Jason said.
    “Jason,” Ramiel’s voice was rich and smooth.  He wore camouflage cargo pants, thick military boots and a fitted, long-sleeve T-shirt.  His frame was fit, his appearance neat.  “It is her,” Ramiel said, his voice a raspy whisper.  “It is the Sola.”
    His words raised the fine hairs of Arianna’s body, as did the emergence of roughly a dozen people from the surrounding woodland.  Each of them moved toward her, stopping just a few feet from her, then knelt. 
    “Uh, Desmond?” Arianna whispered, but he did not respond.  His eyes were fixed on the man approaching.  His gait was slower and less fluid that that of the others who now bowed before her. 
    The sun had begun its majestic ascent from the horizon, rising regally, pushing back sapphire sky with breadths of lavender and gold.  Gilded rods pierced the leaf-covered awning of the forest and haloed the man who approached.  His hair was long and snow-white and draped around his shoulders.  Pale-blue eyes, almost translucent in their clarity and paler than any Arianna had ever seen, stared straight at her. 
    “Sola,” the man’s warm voice flowed from his lips like heated honey.  He nodded deferentially and turned his palm upward, extending his hand to her.
    Arianna wasn’t sure what to do.  Did he want her to slap his hand and “give him five?”  Did he want to shake her hand?  Was there some cool, secret greeting that involved hand gestures she was unaware of?  She simply did not know.  Sweat began to bead her forehead and her palms slickened.  She brought her right arm up over her chest and debated for a moment.  She glanced at Desmond.  He nodded at her encouragingly.  What he was encouraging her to do, exactly, remained a mystery to her.  But she raised her wrist and stuck out her hand.  Little by little, one awkward inch at a time, she poked it forward toward the man with the long white hair. 
    Once her hand was in front of her, the man clasped it.  She felt long fingers encircle her own, felt a pulse of pure warmth surge from them.  He then touched his forehead to the top of her hand and spoke.
    “Sola, we are honored by your presence.  I am Briathos, one of the oldest defenders of our kind, member of the original seven of the High Council, thwarter of evil and keeper of the great omerta.”
    Arianna bit her lower lip.  Heat crept up from the collar of her shirt and licked at her cheeks.  She wanted to shout “What’s going on here!  Please tell me what is happening!” but knew instinctively that would be inappropriate.  More than a dozen people were genuflecting, treating her as if she were royalty.  But she wasn’t.  She was just Arianna Rose.
    “Uh, hello everyone,” she stammered.  “How are you today?”
    Shining eyes the color of ice over ocean water beamed up at her.  Briathos smiled. 
    “Hey there, Briathos.  I’m Arianna.  Arianna Rose of Shady Pines trailer park, daughter of Cathy Rose and, uh, some guy she met nineteen years ago,” she mumbled and felt her cheeks blaze.  “Yeah, that about sums it up.  Oh, and I am the Sola, too.”  She nodded uncomfortably.  “Please, you don’t need to bow,” she begged.
    A hearty chuckle rattled from deep in Briathos’ chest.  He rose to his feet.  “Welcome to our camp, Sola,” he boomed and everyone stood.  He looked to Beth and her twin brothers.  “Your friends have assured us of your allegiance to our cause, that you are not the Sola of the false