MARICAYANA: The Beginning [ONC 2021]

13: FRIEND & FOE

Wening secretly noticed that Kelana Klawu had been staring at her for some time now. Non stop. Unflinching. It was unnerving as hell. Still, she held herself back from voicing it all out. What with the way she was in fact still pretending not to notice 'the stare' in the first place.

Resolve, unfortunately, was such a fickle thing.

"I'm sorry, okay? But there was no other choice and you know it," Wening bursted out, absolutely unapologetic, "Gundhul Pacul can fetch his persimmon wine later, for all I care. We can't be far from his dwelling anyway. But can't seriously expect the poor girl to walk back to the village, can you? It's going to get dark soon. So, quit staring at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like that!"

Other than a slight arch of his brow, Kelana Klawu didn't say a single word in reply. The man didn't stop his intense staring either.

For some reason, his reaction—or lack thereof—flustered Wening even more.

"You know, we actually did a great service to the poor old horse, relieving it from the hard labor and returning it to its master," Wening tried to reason, "now, we can move even faster with body lightening jurus to meet Gundhul Pacul, then report the small delivery incident so he can fetch his persimmon wine himself. Though, I'm sure you'd need to slow down a bit so I can keep up—"

"It is not the horse," Kelana Klawu calmly cut off.

Wening blinked in confusion. Then,

"Aaah, this?" Wening gestured at the blood-splotched gray fabric she had haphazardly thrown on herself like a makeshift clothing. "I told you I'll return it later, once I have my hands on spare clothing. I've even washed it some more. See? The blood stains are much fainter now..."

"Why would you want to wash away the blood you never shed?" Kelana Klawu replied.

"Why would you have to keep the stain of the blood long shed?" Wening countered.

They locked eyes for what it felt like a lifetime, waging a mental battle of will and stubbornness. Unexpectedly, Kelana Klawu had been the first one to break.

"It is still wet," he said as a-matter-of-factly.

"Yours too, soon," Wening deadpanned, index finger pointing at the rapidly darkening sky above. As if on cue, thunder came rumbling from a distance.

Again, instead of responding with words like normal people did, Kelana Klawu went straight to action. Reaching for the sash around his waist, the pendekar untied the knot to set it loose. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and, much to Wening's abject horror, started pulling it upwards, slowly revealing a well-toned stomach with criss-crossing scars all over it.

"W-what do you think you're doing?" Wening shrieked as the pull reached at the man's pectorals. Thankfully, or perhaps not, she managed to put the movement into a halt.

"Give me the fabric. You can wear my shirt instead," Kelana Klawu finally elaborated. He sounded somewhat resigned.

"It's really fine! You don't have to—"

There was a subtle, bone-chilling shift in the air. A tiny frown made its way on Kelana Klawu's forehead. Only by a knee-jerk reaction did Wening manage to propel herself in time, very narrowly missing several daggers thrown her way. Well, their way, seeing that Kelana Klawu had also moved from the daggers' initial trajectory.

More whirring noises came, but this time, Wening was prepared. Pulling Father's keris out of its sheath, Wening wielded the wavy dagger to deflect the barraging attack. Within an unexpected brief pause, she looked up and found a blurred, purplish shadow moving her way in remarkable speed.