His Silent Luna (Verity and Felicity) novel Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY: ONE, TWO, THREE…

Verity’s perspective

It felt odd—how numbers had always been just shapes to me, meaningless scribbles without significance.

I observed Caleb as he crouched down beside me, a stick in hand, tracing lines and curves into the soft dirt beneath us. The stick had been broken off from a fallen branch nearby. Sitting cross-legged on the cool grass, my eyes followed his every movement intently, as if the secret to the universe was hidden in those simple marks. Maybe it was.

“This is one,” he said, indicating a straight line. “And this is two.” He added a gentle curve next to it.

“Three. Four. Five,” he continued, drawing each shape carefully.

I nodded slowly, my gaze sharpening with concentration. He encouraged me to copy the shapes in the dirt using my own stick. It felt like drawing, but with meaning—a purpose behind each figure.

The simplicity of it all captivated me.

Caleb glanced up at me, then pointed toward the row of numbers I’d just made. They were crooked and uneven, but unmistakably there: one through five. I looked up at him, silently seeking his approval.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good job. We’ll do more tomorrow. Now, let’s move on to colors.”

Colors? Like the shade of my eyes, or Felicity’s?

I only knew the name emerald because Felicity had mocked me with it once, and Theron had mentioned the color of my eyes that night in the garden.

Caleb pulled out a small leather-bound notebook and flipped it open to a page filled with hand-painted swatches. The brushstrokes were delicate and light, and the colors vibrant and alive. “This,” he said, pointing to a deep blue, “is navy. And this one here is turquoise.” He turned the page. “Here’s maroon. Next to it, gold. And that—” he tapped the green patch in the corner, “—that’s the color of your sister’s eyes, isn’t it?”

My breath caught in my throat. I nodded hesitantly.

His voice softened. “And your eyes…” He paused, his gaze lingering on mine. “Violet. Like a storm blending into twilight.”

I blinked rapidly and turned my attention back to the page.

He didn’t comment on my silence or offer pity. That quiet understanding meant more to me than words could express.

“Let’s practice,” he said, handing me the notebook. “Point to a color, and I’ll say its name. Try to remember it.”

I nodded eagerly.

And so we went on, again and again. I committed gold, scarlet, emerald, ash, crimson, lavender to memory. The names felt strange on my tongue—if I had a voice—but I treasured them nonetheless.

—

Next, Caleb pulled a bundle of fruits and food wrapped carefully in cloth from his satchel. “Let’s learn some names,” he said, setting the items gently on the grass between us.

An apple. A piece of bread. A boiled egg. Dried meat. And a nut I didn’t recognize.

He pointed to each. “Apple. Bread. Egg. Jerky. Walnut.”

I raised an eyebrow at the last word.

He grinned faintly. “Yeah, it’s a weird name.”

One by one, he lifted the items again and quizzed me. I pointed correctly almost every time. When I didn’t, he simply repeated the right word and moved on—no sighs, no scolding. Just patience.

I never imagined someone could be this patient.

Caleb was a kind person.

“Now,” he said after a while, “we’ll match colors to things.”

He pointed to the apple. “What color is this?”

I tapped the red swatch in the notebook.

He nodded approvingly. “Good. The bread?”

I pointed to beige.

“The egg?”

White.

“The walnut?”

Brown.

We continued like this. My mind felt overwhelmed, absorbing so much new information. I’d never been allowed to learn—not in the tower, not in the woods. It was exhilarating.

—

I didn’t realize how much time had passed until I shifted and felt hunger gnawing at my stomach. Caleb’s eyes flicked to me, amused.

“Wolf.”

That last word made my hand freeze mid-reach. I stared at it.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked gently.

I nodded.

“Sorry to ask, but from what I’ve seen… do you have one?”

I hesitated, then shook my head.

He was silent for a long moment. Then he quietly set the card aside and moved on.

No judgment. No questions.

I wondered how someone like him could exist.

When we finally paused, I lay back on the grass, watching the clouds swirl above me. I traced letters in the air, mouthing the words I’d learned. My heart felt lighter than it ever had before.

Caleb stayed seated, leaning against the tree trunk, notebook resting in his lap. Watching—not intrusively, just quietly present.

Eventually, he said, “You’re a quick learner.”

I grinned.

He chuckled softly. “You’ll be reading novels before you know it.”

Novels.

I didn’t know the word, but I was eager to discover what it meant.

And I would. Because for the first time in my life, someone wanted to teach me. Someone who didn’t see me as a burden or a curse.

Someone who believed I could learn.

And I would.

I would learn everything. Numbers. Words. Colors. History.