Westward

Chapter 2

      ////Hey, the fact that you have returned means that you are mildly intrigued. Dunno what to think of that cause it either means that you are really smart for finding meaning in the keyboard smash that I preformed, or you are simply bored. Or dumb for continuing through this shit deposit although that is hopefully not true.   :)   ////

A sense of almost calm washed through Aowyn's self when she remembered how strong these soldiers were. Sarason stood no chance. Right now, Aowyn was determined to try and focus on the things that she could change. For example: remembering the guard's name to find his parents, locating the two other messengers, and not bursting Doon's heart from exhaustion.

She was reminded her of the hearth in her home. The layers of imbedded chill pried away by the intense heat. The crumbling of her mother's notoriously over-cooked rolls. The crackly, mesmerizing noise of her father scratching his beard. She suddenly missed the sound of her younger brother's annoying but very persistent whining. Even his newfound favorite thing: lip smacking.
Aowyn rose from her pitiful reminiscing. Dreaming is for those not thankful enough. She would see them soon enough.
Next: remembering that name.
"Jay Ciff. Jay Cliff. Jay Cliff." She muttered, sure that nobody could hear her. Easy enough.
Next: finding those messengers. Mulligan and Chester. The possibilities were practically endless knowing those two. They were chosen for their speed on horses, not focus, control, or determination. Not them. She almost laughed from desperately needed adrenaline break. Then she began to watch for the unnaturally red coat that Chester had slipped on. After a couple of minutes, Aowyn realized that her eyes were expecting the red smear of blood or dust of cinders not the coat. She adjusted her mind to not focus on such petty imaginings. Nothing serious had happened. They were smart. Fairly.
Aowyn could no longer hear the crunch of rocks from Narcian mounts. This was good, but, she wanted to catch up.
"Doon, just a trot." She whispered in his twitching ear before thumping her heels against his side. Starting at a fast walk and encouraging faster they finally grew into a pattern.
The long spindly branches of trees stretched out to the sky and held each feather cloud in its grasp. Like the snowy down at the base of a chickadee's neck, the clouds blew fiercely though they were exposed and transparent. So dramatic in the morning light, like sea at dawn. Near the ground, no wind blew but high above, it was the race of rain. A tint of red glittered behind the shielding mountains, the only clue of stormy weather approaching. The idea of bad weather with red skies in the morning came from two intoxicated sailors that stupidly wandered onto Thinourian land.
The elliptical sailors that had traveled so far to Thinour traded food for knowledge of weather. It was not a good trade for several reasons, 1: the sailors seemed very at the time and their thoughts did not match with speech, therefore she had coined their words unreliable. 2: the food they had asked for was high quality and expensive and not equal to the limited amount of knowledge. 3: Thinourians had no need for such knowledge because the was for sea skies and nobody mingled with the drunken, thieving sailors. This one trick though seemed to mysteriously work on land as well as sea, once tested a few times.
Aowyn gazed into the scarlet glow until it unfocused and faded into a fuzzy orange. Doon knew the way and she trusted him. Everything looked so serene and beautifully laid out. The smells filled her up with a dizzy drowsiness, melting snow, decaying grasses, the sweetness of winter mornings, then suddenly the sharp yet thin tang of blood.
Aowyn panicked. The whole world came back into view so sudden that she nearly fell. Her heart raced as all the air left her body. All her surroundings leapt up into sharp images contrasting from the former curvy fuzz. Another whiff of iron touched her nostrils. She siezed up, hands shaking, lungs aching.
"No. No. No...." She whispered, eyes closed to ward off the bout of dizziness. The troops up ahead could no longer be heard. This was the last bit of trail till Thinour gate. If it was still there. She turned Doon around. He was catching her anxiety like plague. Though Aowyn faced the opposite direction she did not go. She couldn't. Muttering "no" for what felt like hours, her mind came up with strange thoughts that motivated her enervated and faint mind. She had to turn back. To find out. It couldn't be good.
The turn back felt so insanely short yet apocalyptically long. Doon was steady but, did not recognize the blood smell, he was definitely sensing her nervousness. Aowyn listened for the clopping of hoofs but heard nothing until a shout.
"Winn!" Then sombody grabbed her red hood. It was a flurry of fear, excitement, and pain as she realized that it was only Chester, the other messenger. Doon whinnied and bolted. Aowyn slipped off the back of him and saw a curl of caramel hair.
Then the pain came. It was sharp at first but dulled from all the other things crowding her brain but still made her cry out. The sharp rocks bit her back. But it was momentary. Because Chester was here.
"Terri!" That was one of those nicknames that was short for nothing, but, it was signature Chester. Aowyn screamed it over and over as they hugged. Not a lovers embrace but, a family hug. They were like brother and sister. It was a tangle of arms, hair, and hood. Finally she broke apart with a gasp.
"You're alive!" Aowyn lifted herself to her feet, rubbing her back and straightening the hood. Chester grabbed a handful of white hair and yanked her back down again, though it was brief pain she did not mind.
Nicks were being carved into her knees, leaving impressions from the rocks in her palms. Doon was nowhere to be seen. Adrenaline pumped through her body, heart beating wildly though her instincts told her it was safe.
"Did you have to get ahead as always?" He panted. He had a face that was easily forgettable yet interesting all the same. She always thought that it lacked somthing important but she couldn't quite place. Freckles belonged all along his nose and cheeks but, they weren't there. Maybe his red/auburn hair was too much contrast from his white, lean face. Or lashes needed to be thicker to balance the look. He was a sight for Aowyn's sore, watery eyes.
"Where's Milligan?" She asked holding back a thousand other questions and ignoring his rhetorical. But, she knew the answer before Chester's face even paled. The excitement emitting from his every breath was extinguished all too suddenly. The flurry of energy was quick to dissipate. He put his hands on her shoulders red with blisters and licked his lips serious too soon, focusing his gaze on the top of her head.
"It's not good. And never will be but, this is war Winn." Aowyn did not even flinch. Did not cry. Those responses were to outwardly show your feeling to others. Chester already knew her feelings. So what was the use of proving him right?
"But, Thinour won, right?" Voice small, sounding frail. She hated it. Chester's chin lowered but, his big amber eyes still locked on hers.
"We weren't prepared. None of the soldiers were expecting anything other that another cold, quiet night. Of all year, this winter solstice is when we are weakest." Aowyn tried to comprehend this. Thinour had lost. Her parents were dead? Chester's eyes searched her face, looking for a sign that she was understanding him. His hands tightened on her shoulders and Aowyn felt herself fall into his chest. But how? How?
"Winn." That was all he said. She couldn't even cry. The whole world must have ended. So why does she still feel Chester's breath on her cheek? Why does she smell the sweet morning? How is it that her body aches from recent rides? Aowyn curled up as Chester stroked her hair, mindlessly picking out small knots at the ends.
Flashes of imagery forged in her imagination years before infringed her brain. Nightmares of somthing like this all came back in a swoop, sending her mentally tumbling into nothingness. Dreams that had come to life now.
"How?" She whimpered, unable to restrain the question. "How did they die?" A shudder coursed through her, the question burning through her skin like hot oil. On Aowyn's tongue it felt like a confession.
"It doesn't matter now. But, they were brave. I promise." That should have made it better. But it didn't, she was too numb to change. Then it occurred to her.
"Narcia is a Thinour ally, right?" She sniffed, lifting her head to Chester.
"That, we will never know." Aowyn's thoughts leapt back to that guard, Jay.
"Do you know the Cliffs?" She asked, climbing her knees again. Chester raised an eyebrow, leaning on his arm.
"Why, Mrs. inquisitor? " he drawled. Aowyn scowled, turning her gaze to the path leading to Thinour. She did not answer that question. He gave in, after a long staring session.
"Yes," he admitted with a roll of his eyes at her stubbornness. "They dissapeared last night. It's been a question passed around by some of the surviving farmers. They know something about the attacks. " He stated that as bluntly as if he knew. "You know somthing. Don't you?" Chester listed his head, eying her suspiciously. Lips puckering at the corners he repeated, "Don't you?" Aowyn whipped her head back in forth too enthusiastically though it was not a lie, it was not truth either. A sudden memory was revived al of the sudden. Of Chester showing her how to use a gun to shoot a jackrabbit.
"No I don't know a thing but, doesn't Sarason use guns?" Her voice sounded how it felt. Strangled and forced. This was more of a subject change though she was curious. Chester bent his knees under him and rose to his feet without a sound. An almost amused suspicion showed on his face. He was taller than her though only by an inch or so, but now, he seemed to tower. He cupped her head in his hands.
"Aowyn...?" He whispered as a warning, bright eyes boring into hers. "I will tell my secret if you tell yours." Aowyn glared back up, many things bothering her about this.
"Get away from me." A breeze chilled her bones, as hurt flashed back in his eyes. Chester did not even twitch. "Get away from me. Now." She stepped away instead, water heavy dress slopping at her knees. Eyes narrowed and head bent, his arm dropped limply to his side, this was another sign that she was right. "Just because I am a woman, does not mean that I am stupid. It was you who shot Mulligan, the soldiers were a fourth of a mile away and could never have hit such a target. " His eyes widened childishly and glanced to the side, this infuriated Aowyn. But he did not deny it. She started up again. "You have one of those newfangled guns. I've seen you shoot it. " She leaned closer and whispered. "Who supplies the ammunition?" This time he opened his mouth, then clamped it shut just as soon. " Since when did the 'fair hair Thinourians' have red hair" Aowyn drawled, studying every movement. From the teeth sucking to the hand that twitched near his belt "I've never heard of your parents, where were they from?" Inside, Aowyn's heart broke to say this next word. But, she spat it fiercely, as it it could hurt him. "Sarason?"
His hand was unpracticed; almost slow to draw his gun, but Aowyn expected it. Just as the handle was touched, she kicked him in the chest with the heel of her boot. Dried dirt flew to the ground, unleashed by the force of the hit. Chester tumbled onto his back hitting rocks with a thump that seemed to echo through the woods. As she did. He silently screamed and held tight to the gun, trying to aim. She whacked his side with the other boot while simultaneously reaching for the fingers that held so unwaveringly. As her fingers grabbed a hold, he fired.
A crack, louder than seemingly possible reverberated through the trees, missing her but, hitting the pine squarely center in the trunk. So. Close. Hot air still lingered for those deafeningly silent three seconds, as both of their eyes widened at each other. An eruption of birds from the trees was delayed, chirps and whistles of warning could not tear her game away. Her boot had somehow landed on his stomach, her hands holding the gun backwards. He had half released the gun from the force of kickback. Aowyn watched his steamy quavery breath thinking, that this was the person that she had recently been hugging. It had changed so suddenly.
Chester moved next, kicking her in the side like what she had done. The pain did not register, it only made her stumble for a half a second before lunging and prying the gun from his hold. Gripping it with both hands as tight as her long fingers were possible of. Breathing through her teeth, she swiveled back to the surprised Chester, still on the ground, eyes wide.
"So it is true!" She half yelled half panted, still shocked from the blast of the gunshot. He did not move a single muscle. Aowyn had already decided to not shoot him the second her hand had snatched the handle. He was Chester. She nibbled her lip, blood rushing in her ears. Chester lay there, breathing heavily eyes not even on her. They were looking upon the trail. Where hoof beats reverberated in the icy air. Not now.
"Go." She whispered. "Before they catch you." His eyes widened in confusion then understanding. Without a second glance, he leapt to his feet silently and took off into the brambles.
South.
Towards Sarason.