The Realms of Thrice (Lesbian Fiction)

Chapter V - The Return to Black

Chapter V - The Return to Black

The journey did not go as smoothly as Emri had hoped. At least not for Ryker. She was use to such travel, but her friend lacked the stomach and legs. It was an odd sensation, free transcendence. Emri related it to the feeling of falling from a tall tree. The way one’s stomach lifted and slammed into their throat on descent. The landings were always much gentler, though. No broken bones, just effortless like stepping onto the sidewalk from a moving horse and buggy. Her ears would pop occasionally, and ring afterwards, but nothing ever worrisome. But she knew all too well the missteps of a neophyte traveler. She had found herself all too many times face first or ungracefully falling to her rear. It was rather embarrassing, and she always took notes, learning in the “ins and outs” of travel so she would not make the same mistake twice.

Ryker, on the other hand, had an annoying habit of not following directions, which probably resulted to him lying face down on the ground spluttering and flailing like a drowning cat in a shallow puddle. He was as dramatic as one that was for certain. She was just thankful the mouthful of foliage muffled his curses. The last thing they needed was unwanted attention at this time. 

“OW! I think I landed on a stick!” Ryker gasped as he coughed and spat. He obviously hadn’t listened to Emri’s advice about keeping his mouth shut, either. Now, he certainly had a mouthful of dead leaves, dirt, and probably a few bugs mixed in there. “Where are we anyway?” he asked as he continued to spit brown matter from his mouth. His hands worked at dusting off his clothes and rubbing at his sore chest.

Emri, oblivious to his state, looked around them with a keen eye. Her features were as tense as a drawn bow as she surveyed the area for trouble. The atmosphere and scenery brought back vivid memories. Many memories that Emri long wished to be rid of.

She recognized the surrounding woods immediately. A few yards ahead of them were a series of old tree stumps where Emri would field dress her kills before returning home. She swore she even saw the remnants of snare trap partially concealed with dead leaves.

Without looking at Ryker, she crouched down next to him and whispered quickly. “Hurry! Get up. You didn’t think I was stupid enough to transport us directly into the city did you?” she asked hastily, her voice laden with uneasiness. “We would be killed on the spot, you especially. The stench of your untainted blood is unrelenting. These people are like boarhounds; strong and insistent, with a powerful sense of the weak. Make no mistake; we are far from our element here. It’s like drawing moths to a flame, and we, my dear Ryker, are the brightly burning fire,” she stated with an edge to her voice. She glanced around one more time before directing her attention to a spot in the east. “Come on, there’s a small home right up the way. If I remember, it should have what we need inside.”

They began walking the short distance. There was a small dirt path about a hundred yards from them, but Emri remembered the path could be traveled by a few people a day, and for now, she wanted to avoid all attention. The surrounding woods were just as she had remembered them, eerie and dismal as ever. The air was thin and smelled of damp, decomposing wood and moldy leaves. All of the trees were bare and thin. The snap of a limb echoed through the dead woods as it fell against other lifeless branches, finally coming to a rest at the forest floor with a hollow thump. The scurrying of dead twigs and foliage attested to the notion that the noise must have startled some wildlife.

Finally, they came up on a low ledge and looked down the couple of feet at an old, dilapidated house. Windows were shattered, holes were forming in the roof, and brush was invading the decayed wooden structure.

Emri looked on with indifference, but her eyes couldn’t help but wander over to the open side-doorway that had led to their once diminutive, yet quaint kitchen. She recalled all the mornings and afternoons when her mother was at work in the garden whilst waiting for Emri and Danny to come home with fresh game or wood for the fire. Often Helen would stand in the doorway, wiping her hands on her frayed apron with the proudest of smiles upon her haggard face. She had been proud of them. Emri had always known that, and she knew her mother had given both herself and Danny the best she possibly could have.