Risk

Chapter XVI

Jasta wasn't aware that she had even fallen asleep until she woke up. It took her a moment, but she discovered that the strange pattering sound filling her senses was rain. It was pouring pretty badly, from the sound of it.

She opened the tent, wincing as an icy droplet of water slid onto her neck. She wasn't looking forward to traveling, but she didn't have much of a choice. She had to get back home before much more time passed. The thought had been replaying in her mind over and over since she'd been taken. A whole month had already come and gone. That was too long... too long...

She shook her head. She just had to focus on getting home right now. She could worry later.

Rowan wasn't sitting by a fire like she was so used to seeing when she woke up. In fact, there wasn't a fire at all, and there was no breakfast ready for her to eat.

She shrugged off the brief shock of worry that entered her mind. Criminals like him could handle themselves. She was more worried about herself. What would she do if something attacked the little clearing-camp? She could hardly defend herself, much less actually defeat a foe.

She decided after a second of thought that, as long as she was awake, she might as well pack up the tent. She had watched Rowan do it so many times. She was sure she could do it, too.

She tried to do it exactly like she had observed it being done, taking out the pegs and winding up the ropes, but by the time she was finished, she was soaked to the bone and shivering, and the tent was a floppy, awkward bundle—nothing like the neat little package that Rowan was so skilled at making.

She was hardly even able to squash the thing back into its bag, and she had to use her whole body, shoving with all her strength, just to do even that.

Even though in the end, it fit, it was still way bigger than it normally was. She sighed heavily—a sound that vibrated with the force of her shivering—and forcefully jammed the awkwardly-folded bundle into the pack.

Nothing else had been unpacked the night before, at least nothing that she knew of, so now the only thing left to do was load it onto the horse.

There was an odd bulge in the place where she'd stuffed the tent, but she figured it didn't matter, as long as the top was closed. She heaved the pack up, gasping at the weight. She hadn't expected it to be so heavy, but she could manage. With her leg like it was, taking so much extra mass wasn't so easy, but she had it on the horse's backside before long, and then she strapped it on, taking an embarrassingly long time trying to figure out how exactly she was going to fasten it with any degree of security.

She retrieved the saddle from where it had been hanging on a nearby tree, but she was more careful as she put it on, hoping she was doing things correctly. It looked right, at least.

She would hate for an accident to be her fault.

She stood near the horse, shivering under the onslaught from above. The raindrops that fell from the tree leaves were big and seemed to be wetter than normal rain.

She tried to look on the bright side. At least she was getting a bath.

She waited impatiently for Rowan, sighing in relief when he finally appeared on the road. He had a small bag slung over his shoulder. If possible, he looked even wetter than Jasta felt. His shoulders were sagging as if whatever was in his bag was very heavy, and his eyes were fixed on the road in front of his feet. His hair was plastered onto his head, just like hers.

As he approached, she swung herself awkwardly onto the horse, waiting with crossed arms as Rowan stuffed his mysterious bag deep into the pack on the horse's back.