Gift- Book 1

Chapter 26

Leiea flinches at the noise of Odenne's heavy footfalls and frowns at Sheyric. She's been sitting for another long while, crying harder over the old locket Craith crushed. Nearly the last thing remaining of something she recognized in the wreck. Something she'll never let go of in honor of little Fleya.

Sheyric swings down from the horse stands for a moment, as if hesitant to approach the girl.

"I found something you might want to see. Get on the horse," He nods to Craith and gets back on Odenne, turning around and leaving Leiea behind in the ash. More than likely the kash of her home.

She sighs and urges the horse over, wincing as her stiff legs refuse to get over the saddle. Craith prances and immediately runs off for the others with Leiea barely hanging on, disliking the distance between the group. They catch up to him, finding that the far area is thick with old smoke, hiding the horizon. Meaning that either the wind has been exceptionally slow lately or the fire was very recent. She shields the sides of her face and eyes with hair and puts the fabric piece back over her face, barely making a difference in the smoke as thick as autumn mist.

They kept riding for a confusingly long time; the smoke was getting to them and the horses and making them dazed and slow. Their chests, throat, and eyes pained but Sheyric solely focused on going wherever he's leading, pushing to move briskly.

Leiea is nearly ready to fall off the horse when he Sheyric, being very far ahead, speeding up quickly and making some sort of motion to her that's impossible to see in the haze. She takes her time to not pass out, but keeps her eyes set ahead, knowing that the wall of smoke ends where he is.

Soon she makes it through, the majority of the smoke behind her, with tendrils still reaching out and fading away. Sheyric's still on Odenne, resting on her neck. He perks up and nods to the right of him, moving again. Her eyes are still almost unworking, but the blue sky, bluer than it was over in the ruins, cuts through. The sun here confusingly bright and cloudless like nothing happened beyond the smoke wall. Plus, most of the grass and dirt is unscathed besides some dark patches that were ignited by embers. Sheyric's silhouette, and even the silhouette of Craith's head right in front of her, is completely blanked out with light.

Leiea unclenches her hand and finds the locket still there, digging into her palm painfully. She picks the tiny pieces from her hand and drops them into the fabric mask she had, tying it securely and putting it in one the saddle bags. She looks up to find Sheyric and Odenne standing still, only a ways in front of them. Her eyes adjust again and she gaps.

It's small and compact, but unmistakable. An encampment, gray and faded canvas and tarp tents covered in burns and held down by rubble. Little is outside of the tents beside mangled metal figures of ploughs and flimsy containers with things like tool heads and silverware inside. There's no signs of movement, not even horses or cattle, but it's enough for hope. Really, if there were only two or three tents, her happiness would be immeasurable. But here, there's dozens. Plenty of survivors of the fires. Some dug holes along the outskirts mean they were digging for wells, as that was how water was gotten in the village.

Leiea feels her eyes spilling with tears again and she looks at Sheyric, asking how with her eyes. How anyone could have escaped such a disaster, and been well enough to set up a camp like this. How, even after such a horrible and tiresome event, survivors gathered around and set up a base.

He gives her a small smile and shakes his head. "We have fighters," he says. "It's not like they can go on their own. We're here, and we can't just stand around. Go on." He waits for her to go forward first before following behind.

Although jumpy and hesitant, even with her excitement, Leiea approaches the first few tents, the most intact and large. She tries to keep Craith's hooves moving to alert everyone around instead of calling out herself. Sheyric catches on and does the same for a moment, being much more effective with such a weighty horse. A shuffling noise from inside the closest tent makes her jump and stop the horse's movement.