Ironwood

Out of The Woods

Jacob woke with the light again, then turned over to hide from it. It was somebody else's turn to make the breakfast. Jacob had been awake far too late wondering whether he would have another set of tracks to follow in the morning, when Ceann and Athena had nonchalantly entered the campfire's circle of light. Jacob had asked sourly how such a skilled tracker had failed to find firewood in the middle of the forest, when he had kept the flames going through half the night all by himself. Ceann had had the grace to look embarrassed. Athena had simply patted him on the shoulder and replied that, you know, it was really dark out there, but thanks for the help. She then had helpfully added that he was welcome to let the fire go out now, though, and then stretched out contentedly under the edge of the tent.

Now it was Jacob's turn to sleep in, and he'd let someone else take care of the food, dammit. When he had told himself that a dozen times and no one else moved, he gritted his teeth and slowly got to his feet. His stiff legs responded slowly. Older folks tended to complain about how getting sore only came with age, but Jacob was sure that was an exaggeration. He did know that he would feel like a new man by the time he had checked the snares, picked a few of the berries Daniel had marked the evening before, and stoked the fire to a full roar. Someone had to make sure they made the most of daylight with so much at stake, and Jacob supposed that he was up for it. Maybe that was the advantage of youth. If so, Jacob had no doubt he would miss it when it was gone.

But, enough stalling: it was time to cook. Jacob usually liked menial tasks, because they set his mind free to think. Unfortunately, they also had a tendency to set him to stoke his anxiety. Jacob tried to resist worrying about the trail they were following, or how many hours it had been since they passed the clansmen's campsite. There was nothing he could do about it, nothing at all. If the clansmen had traveled through the night, if Daniel or Athena had missed a horse leaving the road, they would travel a full day in the wrong direction and likely never catch up. That was out of Jacob's control: it was best not to think of it. But the enigma that was Francis: maybe he could make headway there? He knew almost nothing about the monk, so what made him rely on the man so soon?

Jacob had always been an idealist, quick to forgive, and eager to trust. Yet, despite his words otherwise, letting Brother Francis take a spot in his party had been a leap of faith. It had felt right, but feelings were untrustworthy. Francis, by his speech, must have been a Travanian noble, which would explain his training. But the man not only had amazing skill with a sword, he seemed to have practice teaching it. Almost certainly, he had been an officer in some form of Travanian service, but which? Was he, like Jacob, a younger son employed by his family? Had he been part of Travan's standing army? Afterward, how had Francis become a monk? Was it that leg injury that showed when he was tired? Maddeningly, Jacob could not ask directly, not yet. He was fascinated by the stranger, and he didn't want to risk ruining his relationship with the man. Strangely, Jacob trusted him more now that he knew Francis could have slaughtered them all given only the element of surprise: which he had given up willingly. God did indeed work in strange ways. Including, seemingly, coercing him into cooking a breakfast of greasy spiced meat, berries, and crusty flatbread.

By the look of and smell of it, the mix was almost done. And like the day before, the aroma woke most of the sleepers and started the day. Jacob flattered himself that it was the food and not the smoke.

Brother Francis was the first to take his share, followed by Daniel. "That smells absolutely wonderful," the monk assured him.

"This is actually pretty good," Thaddeus agreed, after a few moments. "I'm rather impressed that you noticed the berries. One would think you'd been camping for years."

"You can thank Daniel." He nodded to the young tracker, who was busy chewing hungrily. "If you'll remember, he pointed them out yesterday."

"Ah, yes. I had forgotten," Thaddeus added. "I hope you weren't up too late last night."