The Fates (Book I) - 2014 Watty Award Winner!

4.4 - No End on Earth

Dear Readers: Back to B.C. we go, to see Cloe and Rider a long time ago, when he wasn't married to someone else.... yet  o_o

The ancient times may feature twists and turns for #Cloder too, though... let's find out what fate has in store...

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Scene 4: No End on Earth

2020 B.C.

“You’ve changed.”

She blinked. “I’ve changed?”

Chrysaor nodded. “Since you’ve been among us.”

Cloe was not sure what to make of this. “How so?”

He shrugged. “You seem less high and mighty. More… human.”

She scowled. Her mission here was to change others, not herself.

“You’ve stopped looking down at us, somewhat,” he continued. “You clearly came from wealth, that house upon the hill, with great contempt for how we live. But now you’re nearly one of us.”

She paused, pensive a moment. “It’s only been a few days…”

“Feels like much longer, eh?” Chrysaor reckoned. “The way you are with Rider. Like you’ve belonged beside him all your life.”

Blood was rushing to her cheeks, further betraying her humanity. “I’m just… myself. With anyone. How else would I be, with him?”

“Usually, a pair like you two wouldn’t waste so much time talking, or else silently staring at each other,” he asserted. “Would’ve fucked by now, for sure. And then been done with it, and both move on.”

“Move on to what?”

“To whatever. Whomever. That’s just animal nature, unless and until overpowered by the human heart.”

Cloe processed this, acutely conscious of her own pounding pulse.

“And who knows—” Chrysaor whispered, leaning in a little closer with a twinkle in his impish eyes, “—if your heart weren’t binding you to Rider… mayhap you could move on to me.”

“All right,” the bandit leader’s voice broke in from behind them. “Enough rest for today. Better reach the next town before dusk.”

Cloe looked up from her crust of bread to watch as Rider rose to ready the horses. He’d been far enough away that he could not have heard her quiet conversation with Chrysaor. And yet somehow his interruption seemed intended directly toward the green-eyed friend.

Since breaking camp, the band of bandits had set off across a broad, barren expanse of land, hoping to find another town or city soon enough to replenish their stores and get on with their lives. Such was life’s rhythm, led by Rider. Travel was on foot, as the horses were too few to seat the lot of them; the steeds trotted beside them, bearing the burden of bedrolls and folded tents. The company stopped to rest and to break bread along the way, from time to time. But not for long.

And as they walked, Cloe and Rider did indeed talk… at great length, just as Chrysaor had observed. They spoke of everything and nothing. She came to learn a thing or two about the man—though more so from the moments spent in silence than from anything he said. His eyes, she felt, always spoke far more loudly than his words.

“Look!” one of the men at the forefront of the group exclaimed as they crested a rocky hill, a sprawling view of land and sea spread far below. “A city! Quite a prosperous city, it appears.”