Free The Amber Legacy by Tony Shillitoe

rest on the fragment of amber crystal on the fine gold chain around her neck. ‘I didn’t see that the other day. Were you wearing it?’
    ‘No,’ she said, her hand rising to touch the object, and tuck it away. ‘It’s a—family heirloom. I don’t wear it very often.’
    ‘Which way?’ he asked, gesturing in random directions.
    ‘This way,’ she decided, choosing to head along the riverbank, away from the eyes of Summerbrook’s gossips.
    They walked along the winding path, Sunfire wandering behind like a chaperone. Meg wasn’t sure how to begin a conversation, but Button rescued the silence. ‘I saw your brothers fishing by the bridge.’
    ‘They should have been stacking firewood at home. Mother will be annoyed.’
    ‘I can drop by tomorrow to help stack the wood,’ he offered.
    ‘I’ll get them to do it,’ she said. ‘It’s their job.’
    ‘Do they listen to you?’
    ‘What’s that meant to mean?’
    Button laughed. ‘No offence meant. I just mean I know that boys don’t like being bossed by their sisters, especially older sisters.’
    ‘And how do you know that?’ she asked.
    ‘I have two older sisters, remember? Lucy and Jen.’
    She laughed. ‘Now I feel sorry for you.’
    ‘But I don’t feel sorry for your brothers. They should be respecting a sister as clever and as beautiful as you.’
    She blushed, and looked at her feet to hide her embarrassment. No young man had ever told her she was beautiful—at least, not in the manner Button used. It sounded strange, but it was very flattering.
    ‘Do you watch the sunset?’ he asked.
    She looked up to the west. ‘Most evenings,’ she said. ‘The colours always make me relaxed and happy.’
    Button stopped to stare at the sinking sun, and Meg paused beside him. ‘I used to think the sun was going to set the trees on the hills alight when I was little. Sometimes it looked like it had.’ He turned to her, and said, ‘It’s as if your hair is on fire, and your skin is amber.’ He raised his right hand and his fingers brushed gently against her cheek to push aside a loose lock of her glowing red hair.
    She shifted uncomfortably, and stepped away fromhis reach, saying, ‘I forgot to brush Nightwind. We’d better start back.’
    Button smiled, lowering his hand. ‘So you have called him Nightwind.’
    ‘I liked the sound. You were right. It suits him.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    Meg turned to where he was pointing. Through the trees at the outer edge of the village a dozen horses were walking steadily, their riders masked by the lengthening twilight shadows. ‘Soldiers, I think,’ she said, her voice dropping to a wary whisper as her mind raced through the possibilities. One made her skin crawl with fear. What if Samuel’s killers were returning?
    ‘I have to go,’ Button announced.
    ‘Why? What’s wrong?’ She recognised the men as Queen’s soldiers and her fear weakened.
    ‘Nothing. I just have to go.’ And instead of heading towards his home, Button jogged along the riverbank path, into the bush, leaving Meg wondering why he was running from the Queen’s soldiers.
    In the dream, she was disembodied and in darkness. She thought at first that she’d woken up but hadn’t opened her eyes, yet when she concentrated on opening them nothing changed—she was awake in the dream and there was nothing to see. But she felt something—a presence—no, something more, something immense.
    I am in you and all of you, a deep voice said.
    Who are you? she asked.
    I am everything.
    But what is your name?
    I have many names. I am all names. Call me what you choose. I am still who I am.
    I don’t understand, she said, but her voice seemed to melt into the darkness.
    When she woke, she was clutching the amber crystal in her left hand. It was already sunrise and the kookaburras were warbling jubilantly in the gum trees. The dream—full of darkness and the voice—stayed solid like the crystal. She would decipher its meaning somehow.

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