Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

8

When Ulric suggested they stop for a few hours rest, Esmund's eyes were blurry with fatigue, and his head was pounding. The pale light of dawn crept across the sky with painstaking slowness as if someone up in the heavens were drawing back the curtains in a darkened room.

They maneuvered their little group off the trail to a sufficiently secure, wooded area with access to a trickling creek twenty feet away. The air was thick with the sound of owls hooting but soon fell silent when Esmund and the others dismounted and began setting up camp.

After thoroughly scouting the area to ensure there weren't mushrooms nearby, Ulric left Esmund and the women to their own devices and set out to find sufficient food for the four of them.

Esmund unloaded the corpses downwind, but it was soon evident it would provide little relief from their growing stench. On a positive note, the smell had kept the women quiet just as Ulric had hoped, so their noxious presence wasn't all bad.

"Oh goodness," Elsie groaned as she rubbed her bottom. "I've never been so sore and tired in my life, not even after one of The Matron's punishments—why, she could learn a thing or two about inflicting pain if she were to ride Chester here."

"Elsie," Piper hissed when she looked over her shoulder and found Esmund watching them. She gave a bland smile and pretended to yawn as she nudged Elsie with her elbow, "What a night we've had. Do you think we can remove the stick, or does it need to stay for a few more hours?"

"It's a bit hard to tell if I'm honest, but I would so enjoy getting rid of it, although I must say it's greatly improved my posture." She placed a hand on either side of her head and faced Piper, who began unwinding the strip of cloth around her throat. "It's a wonder Aunt Bernadette didn't attempt it years ago to correct my tendency to slou-Ouch! What was that for? Why'd you pinch me?" She rubbed her forearm but forced a smile when she saw Esmund watching them.

Esmund pursed his lips as he stared at her. His gut told him something was up between the two women, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of a satisfactory excuse as to what it was.

Piper stepped away and rolled the strip of material in her hand as Elsie bent her head down and lifted it with only minimal difficulty. She beamed a smile at Piper and began removing the bindings from around her chest.

Elsie and Piper gave a small wave and smile before turning away to remove the saddle and gear from their mount. He scratched his head and grimaced when his fingers got stuck in a thick gob of what could only be dried blood and dirt from earlier.

First, he was going to take a bath; afterward, he'd ruminate on the strange conversations he'd overheard between Elsie and Piper. Whistling a tune, he knelt by his gear on the ground and searched his saddlebags for clean clothes and plain soap, but all he found was the remnant of soap his mother had made him a few months ago.

Unable to stop himself, he briefly closed his eyes and brought the soap to his nose, inhaling the soft scent of pine. He didn't want to use it and had only kept it in his gear for the sentimental value it held and the memories of mother it brought to mind—knowing once he used it up, there would be no more to replace it.

For a moment, he considered waiting to take a bath until they returned home and he'd be able to use his usual plain soap, but the idea of sleeping in filth made his skin crawl, so he made a silent promise he would use just enough to get the job done and no more. He left camp and headed for the creek without saying a word to either woman.

At most, it was six feet wide and appeared only deep enough to reach his knees. But, after picking up a weighty stone and throwing it into the middle, he smiled in pleasure when it took longer than anticipated for the watered-down 'click' of the rock hitting the bottom of the creek to reach his ears.