Cries of a Wounded Soul

Chapter 13

We continued our journey northward. The closer we came to the craggy mountains, the more impenetrable they seemed. Illuminated by the sun, sharp points of hard rock and snow speared the clouds above, standing side-by-side like an armored phalanx. Chilled winds made me shiver. The mountains seemed impassable, but Obeus dismissed my spoken concerns with a grunt. Typical.

We came to a serene farmstead standing alone between in the grassy hills. A cold, clear stream flowed nearby, and lazy wafts of smoke curled up from the cottage chimney. Dozens of sheep wandered aimlessly around a weathered wood barn, bleating in soft tones, already covered with thick wool in preparation for the upcoming winter. A black and white shepherd dog barked a warning as we came near.

The young family—a man, woman, and two small children—were more than delighted to host us for the night in exchange for coin. We welcomed the delicious lamb stew, tall tales at fireside, and a soft bed, as relief from the long trail.

To avert suspicion, we posed as father and son on a trip to visit relatives. I suppressed the urge to call Obeus 'daddy pooky'. Teasing him was like dancing near a cliff, and that might have taken me over the edge.

We departed the next morning. Obeus purchased two thick wool blankets from the family, paying far more than they were worth. He impressed me with his generosity towards the obviously impoverished family. Perhaps he did have a warm and fuzzy heart under that gruff shell, as Aria said.

The fading trail led us through a canyon cut into the rising hills. High walls of colorful rock guided the winding creek as it tumbled among boulders and stacked rocks. Twisted saplings and brush clung to what footing they could find. The gorge narrowed and soon we were only able to ride single file. Smoothed scoured rock above our heads warned that, occasionally, this stream became a deadly monster.

The horses struggled through a series of tight switchbacks at the canyon end, depositing us on a long rocky ridge. I wrapped a wool blanket around me against the icy winds. Walls of gray granite and house-sized boulders blocked our way across the mountains.

My jaw dropped as I stared nearly straight up at the rugged, snow-capped peaks. "Must we cross that?"

"By the Creator God, no," Obeus huffed. "We turn west and follow the ridge into the Wastelands. Did you think me daft?"

"I had wondered about that." I traced the westward path with my eyes. Short grasses, evergreens gnarled by the persistent winds, and small bright wildflowers carpeted the rocky ridge top. The only sounds came from the chilled wind, a few buzzing insects, and a furry rodent who didn't seem to want us around, chirping with indignation from atop a rock pile. It seemed passable enough, but unprotected from the elements. "We have only a few hours of daylight left. Where shall we camp? I would not relish sleeping on that exposed ridge."

"A cave lies not far ahead that will give us shelter," Obeus replied without looking my way. "I have traveled this way many times."

"Hmm, you actually did think this through."

He turned and cast a smug grin. "Tomas, did you just give me a compliment?"

If he would use my words against me, then I shall use his. "It shall unlikely be a common occurrence."

True to his word, we reached a shallow cave tucked under a gray granite overhang. Jagged rocks lined the maw like teeth of a mountainous monster. The fire we built near the mouth warmed the space nicely, while a pair of unfortunate game birds that crossed our path roasted over the flames.

That night, tucked within the cave's protection and wrapped in a thick blanket, sleep came quickly.

Then the dream came, but not my own. Unknown anguish rolled over me like storm gales, buffeting my soul with dark winds. Each gust brought cold, paralyzing panic, and my mind spun as if caught in a whirlwind.