These Old Bones

2-2

He stopped, dropping his bag to the muddy ground. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees, drawing in quick, heavy breaths. He straightened up and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, the sweat starting to drip into his eyes. The girl carried on for another twenty feet, or so, and stopped, waiting. She didn't turn around, or even turn her head to look at him, only stood there, staring in the direction they aimed for.

"Of course," Brorzjav hacked up a wad of phlegm, spitting it to the side. "Of course, that's all reckoning that we walk in straight lines and there's nowt to say that'll even be possible, what with Driadin Ground Shakers twisting the ground up with their damned magics. Best hope we don't meet any of them, even though they're friendly enough. A bit cold, like. Wicked tempers on them, though."

"Do you ever shut up?" That shook the girl from her silence. She turned and glared at Brorzjav. "Or do you intend making comment every step of the way?"

"I don't mean no harm by it. Just making conversation, is all." Now that she had stopped and turned to him, Brorzjav could see the tiredness in her face. She hid it well. "What I'm trying to say is, it's a long journey, however you slice it. Running the whole way'll just knacker you out. You need to pace yourself, lass."

"I must reach the Temple as soon as possible. I'm not paying you to decide how fast we get there." Viriili glanced at a rock that must, right now, look as comfortable as a cushion packed chair.

"Aye, that's as may be, but have you reckoned on the two or three days you'll need to take to recover after you exhaust yourself? And me?" Brorzjav squinted, trying to see her face more clear over the slight distance. "I'll not lie to you girl, I've seen grown-up, strong warriors, men and women, collapse trying to keep up a pace like this. How's about we take a short rest, eh? Take on water, have a bite if you have any?"

Viriili appeared to bite her lip, considering her options. After a while, she moved to the rock and sat down, taking the bags from her shoulder. Brorzjav almost sighed in relief and found himself a rock, a couple of feet from hers, to sit upon. He brushed his ragged hair from his face and dug into his bag, pulling out a water skin and a parcel of salted beef wrapped in greased paper.

The girl watched him take a drink and chew on a scrap of meat before rummaging inside her own bag. Her hand emerged with a leather wrapped bottle and a handkerchief wrapped around a slab of bread. Pulling off a nub of bread, she began nibbling at it, watching him.

"Why do you carry such a big bag?" She jerked her chin at Brorzjav's bag.

"Because it can hold all my things." He had to admit, the bag was big. Almost reaching his shoulders when full, that bag had been a constant companion for years. Stood on its end, the bag would be taller than the girl, herself.

"You should get rid of most of it. A backpack is better and easier to carry." Viriili took a drink from her bottle and then nibbled her bread again.

"Nay, lass. When I say it can hold all my things, I mean all my things." He held the top of the bag and looked at. This scruffy, dilapidated old bag. "Everything I own is in this bag. Not bad for my years, eh?"

"Everything?" For the first time, Brorzjav saw an expression other than annoyance or determination. The girl seemed surprised.

"Everything. All my weapons, my buckler, a change of clothes. Some mementos from the rare good times." He realised he had begun to sound wistful and cleared his throat. "Everything."

Viriili lapsed into silence again, taking another tiny bite from the tiny piece of bread. Brorzjav couldn't see how that little amount of food could keep the girl going. She'd taken several bites from the bread and it looked no smaller that it had when she took it from the handkerchief. Brorzjav scratched his beard, wondering if now would be a good time to broach a sensitive subject.