The Redo of a Novel's Villain: Moira

24 - little habits

Huey woke up to a particular large bump, racking the carriage up and jostling him awake. At some point in the ride he had nodded off, and from the looks of the forest around him he was nearly there. The little sunlight that managed to streak its way through the foliage left patterned shadows in its wake. It discoloured Huey's hand and sleeves in patches as he placed it by the small carriage window, feeling the thrumming of the wheels and the subtle chill permeating from the glass' temperature.

It was calmingly quiet, but with that quiet came the realisation he was close to "home." Close to him. A bit of unease picked up again and he forcibly shoved it down with a deep inhale. The caravan baking in calm comforting him enough to think rationally.

First, he asked himself, why is he nervous?
Because he has to meet his uncle (alongside his cousins) alone.

Why must he do that?
To report back to the Duke their study progress.

What is he feeling?
Nervous, worried, irritated, restless.

Not scared?

Abruptly a harsh neigh cut through the air like a knife followed by the jarring stop of the carriage wheels. He steadied himself and pulled himself upright, alarmed. The silence that stretched on in those seconds were tense, making the hair at the back of his neck stick up. The air pulled taught, and slowly, he moved. Straightening his knees he leaned forwards to the wall separating him and the coachman. There was a small horizontal window there with a slidable door. Its purpose was for the person inside to be able to freely communicate with the coachman without shouting through the walls or poking their heads out and vice versa. He rarely ever used it, but now? He needed to discern what happened.

Apprehensively Huey placed his fingers against the ridge of the small opening, unsure if he wanted to know what was outside or not. He cracked it open, just a bit, small enough he could barely fit his pinkie through the gap. Even so he could sense the presence of the coachman. More specifically, the man's quickened breaths.

Huey furrowed his brows. He pushed the door open a bit more, enough so he could even see his cousins' carriage in front frozen in the same way they were. He whispered through the opening.

"What happened?" There was no if something happened, it did. He just needed to know what.

He heard the man's breath hitch as he rasped out an answer, so meek and quiet it was unbefitting from someone hired for the Astaseul Duchy.

"...Young Master, please—"

"Well well, what do we have here?" An unfamiliar voice jutted out with malice lacing the words. The noise was like a crack of a whip against strained silence and it made the coachman cower as small whimpers came out of the man far too old for that. Huey scowled as a foreboding feeling encompassed him. Multiple hypotheses raced though his mind but one stood out crystal clear like the smudge of an ink against white.

'Bandits.'

They must have seen two fancy carriages devoid of guards and foolishly took the chance for a quick raid, not stopping to think or even identify which noble family it was. Suddenly everything was no longer hung high strung by uncertainty, and Huey released a breath. Although he still felt a thin thrum of nervousness through the tip of his fingers and the light squeeze of emotions, he also felt relief.

Huey pushed himself off the wall, his eyes now trained to the woodland surrounding him. Emerging from behind the trees and flashing their weapons, a multiple of other voices rose up following the first to speak. He could hear loud mocks and jeers as the group made their presence known like the ripples of a calm pond.