《A strangers impact》 A strangers impact A Strangers Impact Markets were often grandiose. With people, carts, and stalls packed tightly in a space not large enough for the people or product they amassed. Shiny obols and giant fruits of every shape and size being offered as far as the eyes can see. This market, however... To put it politely, it was quaint. Or if he were honest, a travesty in his position. He couldn¡¯t tell you the last time he''d seen the contrary. The lavish offerings and warm hospitality of the markets of Hayeton. The soft well-kept beds of the inn. Here there was none of that. There were only a few sickly stalls in front of him lost in the dry evening heat. He could see all they had to offer with a quick glance left to right as he walked towards them. Some wood and a woven basket in the stall furthest to the left. Some bread and old fruits in the stall to the right, and he¡¯s not quite sure what the others were offering. Some religious trinkets maybe? Those wouldn¡¯t help him any. To have grown accustomed to bare pickings and absent hospitality says something about himself. He''s just lost to what it says exactly. Brooke reaches out a rough hand, grasping a pitiful apple. Its color was muted with multiple soft spots covering a large portion of the fruit. "How much for the fruit?" The stall owner had been staring him down since he had walked passed the decrepit archway of the town. His arms crossed and speaking in a tone somewhere between rude and downright hostile. ¡°Two for five coppers, if you¡¯re buying less than that turn around.¡± Brooke puts the apple back in its place. He points to a half loaf of bread behind the man. "I don¡¯t have five to spend on just fruit. How about two for this one, and four on some of the bread you have over there." The man thinks for a long moment. ¡°Three and five.¡± Brooke smiles. ¡°Thank you for making an exception.¡± His food bag had almost been empty, a few strips of meat left from the last village. Adding the hardening half loaf of bread to the bag didn¡¯t ease his mind much. It seems there would be no meat to buy. Even if there was he couldn¡¯t afford it. He looks at the four remaining coins in his hand. One silver and Three Coppers left. Might get him something to eat and a few nights at the inn in the next town. From there he¡¯d be back to work until winter broke. Hopefully that village will be a little more hospitable than the village he found last year. Those people wouldn¡¯t even let him stay at the inn. Working the farm gave him a place to sleep, even if it was in the barn. He smiled to himself as he stared off into the distance. Poor Neda¡¯s mane is probably matted again with shoes that need replaced. She didn¡¯t like sharing the barn at first, but after a week of being properly pampered she was fine with the arrangements. He shakes his head. Hopefully the ole girl is still doing fine. Not that he could do anything about it. He was a whole spring and summers worth of walking away. Once out of his daydream he noticed a large stone structure peeking overtop the small shacks and building in front of him. Moss and lichen overtaking the parts of the wall he could see. Two rectangular holes for windows allowed him to see the inside he passed. The roof had caved in at one point and he could see the doors were slightly ajar. The frame was much older than the doors themselves rotting to the point the doors couldn¡¯t close correctly. They creaked as he peered inside. It was one large room where everything faced away from him. The crudely hacked at vines hung limp from the hole in the roof. Moss and lichen warred for space over the scratched stone just inside the windows. The meticulous placement of new and old furniture was upended by a missing row beneath the hole. On the far side of the room was a polished white altar with candle holders on either side of it. Spots of rust discolored the metal contrasting how well the altar had been kept. It was an odd collage of new and old. As if it were trying to be preserved by someone who wasn¡¯t sure how to preserve it. ¡°Ahem.¡± An annoyed voice came from a stall behind him. ¡°Just like the rest of them.¡± He turns around to see a girl of about fifteen glaring at him. ¡°The rest of who?¡± Bright eyes of gold staring daggers so fiercely; he could feel them pierce. ¡°Outsiders.¡± He blinked, squinting at her. Her eyes are gold. Clearly staring too long they turned into a fiery scowl. ¡°Yes, they¡¯re gold.¡± Her tone was short and blunt like a rudimentary club. ¡°Is there a problem with it?¡± He attempts to turn his gaze from her to anywhere, but it was all dust, shack, and the building. ¡°Nothing wrong with it. I¡¯ve just seen a lot. But never eyes of pure gold.¡± She turns from him in silence returning to the stall he had completely missed on his way to investigate the building. They teach hostility early here. He steps up to the stall scanning for anything of use. More odd bobs and religious trinkets. ¡°Why is your stall here and not with the others?¡± She glares at him. ¡°Father.¡± He spots a box on the ground next to her; lid opened with dull colored rocks inside. He points to them. ¡°Firestones?¡± She looks to where he¡¯s pointing. ¡°And you¡¯re going to make me lift the heavy box.¡± ¡°I could come around and lift it for you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not doing anything.¡± She readies herself, her small frame bracing for the weight of the box. Brooke juts his thumb behind him. ¡°What was that building?¡± A grunt is forced from her mouth as she wills herself to lift the box. Struggling to get it on the counter, it slips from her hand and Brooke catches the lid, its rusted hinges giving way under the weight of the rocks. Sounds of tearing wood are heard just before the thuds of rocks and box hitting the dirt. He grimaces still holding the lid in one hand staring down at the mess. ¡°Four for the box.¡± She picks up a newly fragmented piece of stone. It was about the size and shape of her middle finger. One side is shiny black, the other a dull grey. One end blunt and the other sharp as a fresh blade. ¡°And seven for this.¡± Brooke blinks, setting the lid down on the counter. ¡°Five for the shard and you can keep the box.¡± She begins stacking rocks into the now broken base of the bin not looking up to him. Her voice slightly muffled as she talks at the ground. ¡°Seven. Father isn¡¯t going to be happy about a duster breaking his box.¡± ¡°You can tell him I¡¯m sorry. It looks as if it was time for a new one anyway.¡± She puts the last rock in the bin before scooping the lid off the counter and putting it awkwardly on top of the mound. ¡°He can make a new one. He just didn¡¯t want this one to go to waste.¡± ¡°If he can make a new one then four for the firestone.¡± She mouthed something to herself looking the angriest she¡¯d been with him. ¡°Fine. Just go away.¡± ¡°Do you have change for a silver?¡± She scowls, the lines deep around her face and eyes like they have been chiseled into stone. He can feel the daggers in his back as he waves a thank you. Charming that one. Taught to hate from birth. He shakes his head. I wasn¡¯t much different at that age. Although to some that was a lifetime ago. Before I started searching. He blinks. Let¡¯s not start on that now. He pulls his knife from its sheath on his belt. The ornate white handle trimmed with silver, a bulbous pommel with an abused jewel socket; missing what he had been told was once a sapphire. The blade was long and made of a stronger steel than most blades. More than one fight started because of this knife. He scrutinizes it heavily, testing the edge against his finger and then against the apple he had purchased. The bottom is still sharp, but the tip and middle need some work. I wonder if they have a smith. He feels his coin purse. I hope he¡¯s cheap. The village wasn¡¯t very big. Wandering around aimlessly he eventually found a clearing with all the tools of the trade he was after. It was all in the open, a rough square of fired brick its corners missing, and its edges chipped away with time. On it were all the necessities for a smith, a single forge and anvil with a locked wooden shed not far from them. Several barrels were stuck in place next to the anvil filled with familiar smelling liquids. ¡°Salt water and fat.¡± There was a clearing to the back of it, an open field with dry grasses swaying when there was a gust of wind. When he turned from it, he noticed a man watching him from the window across the dirt path. He was bald with an unkempt grey beard; his body was toned for his age and he stared at Brooke with dark brown eyes that to his surprise weren¡¯t full of vitriol. As Brooke noticed him, he leaned on the windowsill. ¡°What would you be needing of the smith?¡± Brooke placed his hand on the hilt of his knife. ¡°I need my knife sharpened.¡± The man nods. ¡°A traveler who can¡¯t tend his own knife?¡± ¡°I can sharpen it myself. But I prefer to have it done by a smith before I put my boots up for the year.¡± ¡°Bit early to have your boots up aint it?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid this¡¯ll be the last of my coin.¡± The man nods. ¡°I see. No robbing or criminal hunts?¡± A dry chuckle escapes Brooke¡¯s nose. ¡°I¡¯m not strong enough to catch a criminal, let alone be one. Plus, where around here would I take a criminal if I found one.¡± ¡°The river works well enough for me. At least for the ones roaming around here. Been stealing women and children.¡± Brooke spits on the ground. ¡°Damn knappers should all end up in the river. Do you know where the smith is?¡± ¡°Aye, it¡¯s me.¡± ¡°You seem to be more courteous of me than the rest of the town.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve done a lot of traveling in my day. Set out for the city of Hayeton in my youth, I¡¯m not cut out for city life.¡± Brooke smiled at that. Hayeton, the most advanced city in the world. Running water, cobble roads, people from all over gathered there. Before he had ended up there, he never believed any of it to be anything but children¡¯s stories. ¡°I do miss the running water.¡± Brooke attested. The man lets out a heartfelt laugh. ¡°Haven¡¯t had a proper scrub like that since I left.¡± He puts his hand on his chest regaining his composure. ¡°How much coin do you have lad?¡± ¡°Eight coppers.¡± ¡°When are you wanting to leave?¡± ¡°Morning if I can.¡± The man grimaced. ¡°I¡¯ve got a few things that need done in the morning. Farmer needs his tools done, cobbler has been waiting on me to fix his vice for weeks now, this year¡¯s coming of age celebration is coming in the next month or so. So, the seamstress needs all new.¡± He rubs his chin. ¡°I can¡¯t do morning. But early afternoon I¡¯ll bring it to the marketplace.¡± Brooke smiles broadly reaching for his coin purse. ¡°How much do I owe you?¡± The man waves his hand. ¡°I¡¯ll charge you five when I get it back to ya.¡± Brooke undoes his belt taking the knife¡¯s sheath from it. He pauses, looking down at it before hesitantly handing it over. The smith notices the hesitation. ¡°I¡¯ll lend you a knife so you¡¯re not alone.¡± He disappears from the window for a few minutes before returning, a rough looking leather sheath in hand with a boring although polished wooden handle sticking out from it. They trade sheaths. Brooke pulls the knife from the leather to reveal a polished iron knife sharp enough to cut wood. He always forgets how different his knife is from the average. The shape and weight of the pommel alone made it feel like something was wrong as he held the knife. He already missed it. ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll treat her as well as my own.¡± ¡°No need for that. I¡¯ve got a dozen more in the back, should do ya for the day.¡± Brooke nods to him as he departs. Some extra time to prepare. Maybe even some time to rest, isn¡¯t that a pleasant thought. He hasn¡¯t properly rested in weeks. Every day is a new road, each with its own problems and stories to tell of them. These past ones seemed generous, with plenty of berries everywhere but they turned what he knew on its head. The red ones with shiny leaves he knew were okay to eat. Just a few handfuls a day as to not dry oneself out. A bit tart and the seeds in the center would pop and crunch as you chewed. These red ones were soft, almost melted in your mouth causing your tongue to swell until you couldn¡¯t talk, and it would last for days. The small blue ones, that grew on vines that would cause unbelievable diarrhea and vomiting. Now were as big around as a silver, grew on shrubs and were the faintest sweet. The purple stain on the collar of his extra shirt proved they were juicy enough to make a mockery of you if you weren¡¯t prepared. Anything small enough for him to catch by hand was too nimble. The traps he made turned into nothing more than disturbed earth. Every time tufts of fur and ominous paths of blood trailing into the woods would be found at daybreak. Unless that is, it was another extraordinarily unlucky morning where he would find himself groggily trudging his way to his trap to the sounds of death squeaks. When he pushed the leaves aside, he was left staring into the fierce yellow brown eyes of a beast. It¡¯s set of long sharp fangs entirely encased within the flesh of a rabbit¡¯s back. It cried out and kicked trying to free itself from the jaws of the beast. Its wild energy clearly lacking presumably from the hoop still tied around its leg. Every movement it made caused more blood to pool around the merciless teeth gripping it. The blood dripped in a rhythmic patter as it splashed onto the ground. One time was enough. If he ever came across a beast like that again, it would be far too soon. Just as the sun began setting, he had managed to get everything prepared for the next day. He prepared himself an extra roll of kindling, collected wood, filled his water jug, managed to get most of the purple out of his shirt, and even if it took much longer than it should have, he managed to spear himself a fish. He decided that camping just outside of the town was the best call. Close enough to keep roaming thugs away but far enough he wouldn¡¯t disturb the peace. He pulled the piece of firestone from his pouch and set the knife to it. Striking it against the rock, nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing. He tried until he broke into a sweat and started breathing heavily. No sparks. He took a deep breath after the realization set in. It¡¯s not a hard knife. He forgot to mention that his was. Each time he was without it he was reminded how much that knife spoiled him. Hopefully it will only cost him his remaining three coppers for the extra work and any damage it might do to the grindstone. Sweat dripped down his back as the sun threatened to raise every ounce of moisture from the earth. He focused on the fibers between his fingers, twisting them together for the third time. Finally wrapped tight enough he tied it off there. You could always use more rope. There was never enough time to make it, but it was about as useful as anything. He hadn¡¯t even noticed the sun reaching its peak in the sky or that it had started to drift back down. But he had noticed his water jug becoming lighter than he would have liked. He brings his head up from the bundles of fibers on his lap. His eyes weary from the immense focus he had on the fiber. Across the market he made out a figure walking directly towards him. Blinking it into focus he saw a familiar grey beard and white handle at its hip. He looked up at the sun. ¡°It is about time, isn¡¯t it?¡± He wrapped up the rope he had worked on and stuffed them into his pack. Climbing to his feet he brushed the dirt and stray fibers from his pants before slinging the pack over his shoulders. ¡°Ya could have warned me.¡± ¡°Warned you?¡± ¡°About the knife being a hard knife. Nearly cut up my grindstone on it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, having a pleasant conversation caused it to slip my mind. I only remembered when I had to make a fire the hard way.¡± ¡°The hard way?¡± The man rose an eyebrow. ¡°Didn¡¯t think to try the spine?¡± Brooke¡¯s jaw dropped slightly. Why didn¡¯t he think to try that? The man smiled. ¡°Working in Hayeton taught this old man some tricks. Not that anyone around here notices.¡± He points to Brookes pack. ¡°I saw you packing away some cordage. I¡¯d be willing to take that instead of the coinage. It¡¯s getting harder for me to spin it myself and the youngins are charging madness for it.¡± Brooke shrugs the pack off his back. ¡°I¡¯d like to keep some of it. But I can spare some if you¡¯d still be willing to take coin.¡± His eyes snapped open to the sound of a shrill scream in the distance. Before he knew it, he was on his feet. His head felt full of clay and eyes made of sand. Another scream. ¡°Sarah!¡± He was on the dirt path running towards the noise as fast as his legs would carry him. His eyes were still foggy as he stepped on rock and twig alike in his haste. Is she here? Did I find her? There! A small unlit campfire ring. A pack beside it and a lump of a blanket on the edge of the road. As he thudded toward another squeal. ¡°LET GO OF ME!¡± His eyes darted to the blanket. Dark blonde hair can be seen from one end and a mess of tanglebrush wrapped all around it. There was struggling within the thick blanket as more of the long thorns dug into the helpless fabric winding itself tighter around the figure. Unceremoniously dropping to his knees beside the figure he began yanking at the vines with his bare hands. Tearing vines and blanket alike before there was a hole large enough to drag the person within from their brush bound prison. ¡°Sarah! I cant believe i-¡° A set of golden eyes stared straight into his, a hard scowl forming across them. She gets herself off the ground. Brooke¡¯s mind finally registered what was happening. As his body started to remind him that he was indeed human. It started with his throat; it burned as if he¡¯d just downed hard liquor straight from the bottle. Then his lungs felt as if they had been full of blades. Next his hands torn to ribbons from the thorns of the vines, blood dripped from them to the dirt in a light unrhythmic patter. Then his feet, he didn¡¯t even think of his boots. He was now. Every stone, branch, thorned plant had left its impression on his feet. Then lastly his groin. His groin? He took a sharp breath clenching his teeth as he rolled onto his side. He hadn¡¯t noticed her even move towards him. While he was on the ground, she had hurriedly grabbed her shoes and pack. Now she was wrestling with the blanket trying to free it from the brush. ¡°What.. Was that for..¡± ¡°For trying to seize an opportunity!¡± He was in pain. He laid there listening to her struggle with the blanket. She was clearly losing to the bush. He took a few breaths trying to calm the pain. She had begun walking in haste away from him. He looked over. The blanket had remained where it was. ¡°If.¡± His voice cracked. He coughed, forcing himself to steady his voice. ¡°If you give me a moment. I¡¯ll free it.¡± He steadied his breathing as he forced himself into a sitting position. The throbbing in his loins anything but pleasant. She hesitated only momentarily. He shook his head. He raised his voice just enough so she would hear him. ¡°Your screams would have alerted every thug in the area. Be mindful. Stay off the road until daybreak.¡± His legs were still shaky. He was too old for that. Sarah? She had been gone for over a decade. She was dead, he knew that. The blanket was full of thorns and small holes, but he had cleared the vines off it. Then he slowly made his way to his things. Each step was as agonizing as the last. That¡¯d teach him to take his boots off to sleep. Not until he reached the next town. Only took one bad town to teach him to keep his knife on him when he slept. Even with his decreased pace he caught back up with her by mid-day. ¡°Your parents send you to the next town over often?¡± He¡¯s met with silence. ¡°What¡¯s its name?¡± He¡¯s met with more silence as she continues ahead of him. He slows down as he takes the blanket from his pack. ¡°I brought your blanket that you left behind.¡± Her walking stops as she looks at him over her shoulder. He stops a short distance from her. ¡°I¡¯d be careful with it, still plenty of thorns left in it.¡± He extends the blanket to her. ¡°If you would rather me leave it here on the ground and take a few steps back I can.¡± She turns to him eyeing him up and down. ¡°No tricks I can lay it out flat if you¡¯d like.¡± She nods her head for him to lay it on the ground. He does so, taking a half dozen steps back. She snatches it off the ground without a word carrying it in front of her. ¡°And what was your town¡¯s name? I didn¡¯t catch it when I was there.¡± ¡°¡­ Hirath.¡± ¡°Speaking of names. Mines Brooke.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t ask.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true. But now you have it. I expect I won¡¯t get yours?¡± He was met with silence again. This walk was going to be interesting. Looking at the bag she carried it was small. with a few rounded and dense items at the bottom causing the straps to dig into her shoulders. Every few steps she would stumble on something or walk into a stray branch. She wasn¡¯t drinking nearly enough for the heat of the day. He looked to the sun. The hottest part of the day had started. ¡°What about taking a break. It¡¯s the hottest part of the day. We¡¯ll run out of water walking in this heat.¡± She stopped momentarily a few paces ahead of him. Before continuing. She didn¡¯t walk much further before nearly passing out, just managing to catch herself before unceremoniously sitting beneath the shade of the nearest tree. As he approached, Brooke could see her face was bright red with sweat pouring from her. Her bag laying beneath her, her water jug propped up oddly against her. ¡°Do you need some water?¡± Her voice was horse. ¡°No.¡± He crouches down beside her uncapping his jug and offering it to her. There wasn¡¯t much left, but she needed what was there more than him right now. She took one taste with a pause before the rest was gone in two large gulps. ¡°We can make a trip to the stream. It should be running parallel to the road. A few hundred feet in that direction.¡± He gestures to one side of the road. She holds the jug up for him without a word. He takes the hint that shes not going anywhere so he takes a seat beside her. The bread he bought was past stale; nearly impossible to get down with his parched throat. She stares at him as he struggles. Amongst a slew of coughing and attempts to swallow he manages to get out. ¡°If you¡¯ve got food now would be a good time for it. I¡¯d offer some of this but it¡¯s probably best for the birds.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not hungry.¡± He grimaces at those words. It¡¯s been half a day, and she looks on the verge of collapse already. Her face and shoulders sunburned so badly it might blister. Her breathing is labored, and her hands are starting to shake. He puts his food away and gestures to her. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go see if we can spear a fish or two.¡± He heads off into the woods, beaconing for her to follow. He could feel the glare pierce into his back as she slowly got herself back to a standing position. She didn¡¯t have the energy to keep walking in the sun. He set his bag down by the edge of the stream. With his boots off he takes a step into the shallows of the water. It¡¯s cold. Refreshing compared to the heat of the day; and it soothed the pain in his feet. Walking on them all day hadn¡¯t let them recover from the ordeal of the morning. He unscrewed the top to his water jug, pushing it into the water then pressing his lips to the top. The water was cool as it slid down his dry throat. She had done the same, drawing huge gulps from her jug. ¡°You¡¯ll hurt your stomach if you drink too much too fast.¡± He was met with another scowl as she took another huge gulp. He smiled back as she filled it one last time and put the top back on it. He knelt to splash the sweat and dirt from his face. As his hands hit the water a few small fish darted away. Round two it is. After a few short minutes he had a workable spear. He rolled his pants up as he waded into the water. She watched on as he failed time and time again to spear anything but rocks and muck. Eventually he heard a light splash as she waded out to him. She gestured for the spear. ¡°It may take some time but ill get one sooner or later.¡± She stared at him blankly gesturing for the spear one more time. He watched as the spear shook unsteadily just above the water. Even if she could manage to spear something normally, I doubt she can manage it right now. ¡°If you¡¯re unable to don¡¯t feel that you have to.¡± With one quick stroke there was blood in the water. Brooke¡¯s head snapped down to see a fish struggling against the wood pierced straight through its side pinning it to the muck. ¡°I take it back. We would have been here much longer if it were me.¡± ¡°Father always cuts them up.¡± ¡°I can fillet it. Let¡¯s gather some wood. Can you start the fire?¡± She nods slowly. He sets the fish on a flat rock wrapped in his other shirt. After enough wood is gathered to make a small cooking fire, he turns to where he left the fish. Yellow Brown eyes stare back at him from the other side of the fish. He draws his knife. It¡¯s too soon. His legs refused to move. No matter how much will put into them they were nothing but pillars of rock. Was he afraid? Of course he was afraid. Only the mad wouldn¡¯t be in this situation. The eyes didn¡¯t leave him as it strode towards the fish. The nails of his free hand dug into his palms whitening as his knuckles made audible clicks. Move damnit! He screamed in his own skull. Just then something bounced off the beasts snout with a thunk. ¡°Get out of here! You aint nothing but a big mutt.¡± Another rock bounced off its head. His legs seemed to unroot themselves from the ground. ¡°Get away from the fish!¡± He roared. Picking up the nearest branch sending it hurling at the large canine. It shrunk back as the wood smacked square into its chest. It looked left and then right before taking off into the woods. The girl spoke up. ¡°They¡¯re big cowards unless there¡¯s more of them. Just throw things at them and yell.¡± Brooke¡¯s hand was on his chest. His heart attempting to pound itself free from his chest. He took a few deep breaths. ¡°That¡¯s good to know.¡± This place is strange, he thought. He turns his attention to her as she struggles with a dull grey rock and a small knife. He kneels beside her. He spins the knife around in her hand. ¡°Try the other side. Your blacksmith puts the hard steel in the spine.¡± She pauses a moment biting her tongue. She strikes the back of the knife against the rock. Sparks fly off in all directions. ¡°When you get the fire going, I¡¯ll show you how to cut the fish.¡± By the time they were back on the road the sun had begun its descent from the sky. As tight as she was gripping the straps on her bag again he could see she was no longer thinking about food or water. ¡°Copper for your thoughts?¡± Her hands released her bag. The straps digging into her shoulders as a flicker of pain ran across her face. Nothing. She clearly heard him. ¡°I¡¯ve traveled angry my fair share. Learned the hours are more enjoyable if you¡¯ve got a way to get it out of you.¡± She stopped and turned to glare into his eyes. Half screaming, she says. ¡°Why would I care if its enjoyable!?¡± The angst in those words was palpable. He spoke soft and steady. ¡°Well, getting somewhere is only half the trip. Anywhere you walk to, you¡¯re going to have to walk back from. If you¡¯re miserable the whole time, it¡¯s going to be hell.¡± She opened her mouth for a moment, a scowl formed across her face before she turned from him. He shook his head. She¡¯s definitely a complicated one. With the sun on the last legs of its decent occasional rumbling could be heard in the sky. Rain. More than likely in the morning. A cool day and should give her skin a break from the sun. He calls out. ¡°It should be about time to get off the path and set up the bedrolls.¡± ¡°Why..? would we get off the path?¡± ¡°Drunkards and bandits roam the roads at all hours of the night. Drunkards will just fall over you, but the bandits could do much worse.¡± She crosses her arms. ¡°There are no bandits around here. And if someone trips on me, they¡¯ll get a mouthful they¡¯d never forget.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard both of those plenty, and I¡¯ll gladly be wrong. But I¡¯d still rather safe than sorry.¡± She glares at him. ¡°You¡¯re just trying some funny business again.¡± His face doesn¡¯t hide the shock of that statement. ¡°I¡¯m not planning anything funny. I¡¯ve just been mugged more times sleeping on the path than sleeping amongst the trees. Only way to ask for it more is to have a fire going.¡± ¡°So, you want me to sleep in the trees with you with no fire?!¡± He puts his hand on his forehead taking a deep breath before speaking. ¡°Not, with me. Close enough that I can help if the need arises.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°What do you mean no?¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°I¡¯ll be sleeping on the path. With a fire.¡± ¡°Are you mad?¡± ¡°No. You are.¡± Pinching the bridge of his nose he takes a deep breath letting it out slowly. ¡°I guess we should find some wood then.¡± Every part of his mind and soul rejected the idea of staying on the path. Not once or twice did he learn those lessons but half a dozen or more. Sometimes on his own and other times with bands of people. It always happened eventually, muggings, kidnapping, or even sometimes murder if someone tried to be a hero. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to sleep on the path, but he couldn¡¯t stand to move too far from her either. Eventually he begrudgingly slept behind a bush maybe fifteen strides from the road. The girl awakes to the shining sun bright overhead. She stretches her arms and cuts off a whimper before it can leave her mouth. She looks over to see Brooke sitting on a rock in the shade facing the dead remains of last night¡¯s fire. He was fiddling with some thin strands of fiber. She rubs her eyes as she looks to him. ¡°You are mad.¡± He reaches down beside him and tosses her canteen beside her with a hollow ping as it hits the ground. ¡°This time.¡± He flicks his eyes to the sky. ¡°Dark clouds will be rolling in. We might not have to stop today on account of the heat.¡± She looks at the sky seeing the same shade of blue as there was yesterday. ¡°Don¡¯t touch my stuff.¡± He looks up from the fibers. ¡°I was going to go down and fill it but couldn¡¯t bring myself to.¡± He ties off the end he was working on before placing it into his pack. ¡°I¡¯ve seen grey clouds in between the trees every now and again. You¡¯ll smell the rain soon.¡± He gestures to the canteen. ¡°We should head down and fill them before the rain muddies the water. Maybe look for something to forage.¡± There were no signs his words reached her. She continued to gather her blanket. She picks up her canteen clipping it to her bag strap before walking forward not concerning herself with him or his warnings. He sighs, weighing his own canteen in his hand. It¡¯s about a quarter full. He¡¯ll be wishing he had stopped at the river by the end of the morning. He squints at her as she walks on. He would catch up to her again later today but that¡¯s hours she would be on her own. At the very least he could have water for her, Shell be dehydrated even if the hottest part of the day has rain. He grits his teeth. No, there¡¯s too much chance doing that. Sipping sparingly won¡¯t be enough either, but it will have to make due. Hopefully he can convince her to get water, or the rain comes quickly. He heard the rain before he smelled it, it came fast and heavy; engulfing everything in wet in seconds. He slipped under a large tree that offered some dry as the curtain of water swallowed everything in front of him. He removed his shirt and shook off his jacket before folding them into his bag. Something dry, well kind of dry would be nice after a while of cold wet. She hadn¡¯t made it far but even so he could barely make her out through the constant sheets of water. She refused to stop. Every step her foot getting stuck in the ankle-deep muck or splashing in the deceptively deep running water. ¡°You know we could stop until the heaviest part of the rain dies down.¡± He shouts. Unsure if he was unheard or ignored, he shook his head and trudged after her. The strap of his hat being the only thing keeping it attached to his person. Gods bless the strap. He didn¡¯t fare much better than her; him being heavier he sunk deeper in the mud; the only good thing is he didn¡¯t have to worry about losing a boot. Learned to tie them tight after losing one in the mountain snow, he still doesn¡¯t know how they managed to keep most of his foot intact after that one. Or that there was a place that could replace toes, costly to do so but the year of back breaking forge work was more than worth it in the long run. He places a hand on her shoulder as another pile of caked mud falls from her foot. She had lost both her sandals. She was absolutely soaked through and shivering at this point. Hair a mess to the point she stopped trying to keep it out of her face. ¡°We can wait this part out. Find a tree to hide under.¡± She seemed to ignore him, taking another step forward until her foot plunged into shin deep water twisting her ankle and she ended up sprawled out on the muddied path. Brooke knelt into the mud extending is hand. She stared at his hand laying in the mud for a long moment before heaving a heavy breath and forcing herself off the ground. Covered from the neck down in mud she took steps towards the trees. She stood shivering silently. Brooke looked her over and she turned from him, clearly still not wanting anything to do with him. ¡°At this point you might as well get what mud you can off while the rains still heavy, that way it doesn¡¯t dry to you and make you itch.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± He nods before looking out from the leaves, seeing the clouds still looking as bitter as she does. ¡°Looks like it¡¯ll be a while yet before it slows down.¡± Just the sound of the rain falling. ¡°I wonder why it was named Hirath? Do you know?¡± ¡°Do you always talk so much?¡± ¡°It helps pass the time. Makes it slightly less miserable.¡± ¡°Why be a wanderer if its miserable.¡± ¡°Home turned into my own personal hell.¡± He digs in his bag for a moment before producing his food pouch. He takes a strip of dried meat and cuts it in two. He gestures half of it to her. ¡°I¡¯ve also got stale bread, but good luck getting it down.¡± She gives it a stare of contempt. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it?¡± He shrugs. ¡°Nothing, I hope. I got it from the village before yours. Should I be worried somethings wrong with it?¡± She shakes her head annoyed. ¡°No.¡± She snatches the offered piece from his hand. She stares at it. It¡¯s a mostly dry lump of meat, same as any she¡¯d ever seen. Nothing seemed off about it, it looks fine, smells bad but not unlike normal, she places her tongue on it. It tastes normal. Brooke watched silently as he cut pieces off his part and savored the taste as much as he could. ¡°Never eaten dried meat before?¡± She scowls at him. ¡°I have! Why would a drifter share what little he has with someone?¡± Brooke pauses. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I? You¡¯re hungry, aren¡¯t you?¡± She looks him over. He doesn¡¯t seem to be lying, his concerned face looking slightly more puzzled with every passing moment. She opens her mouth to speak but he lifts his jug to her. ¡°There''s a mouthful or two left if you want them.¡± She reaches for it, her face silent confusion. ¡°Listen, I¡¯ve been without food before. I¡¯ve been parched to the point my throat closed. I wouldn¡¯t wish that on anybody. If I can help it, I won¡¯t let someone go through that. If I can¡¯t help it, I¡¯ll go through it with them.¡± She unscrews the lid splashing a little water over her tongue, tastes like the water she had yesterday. She takes a small bite of the meat in her hand studying Brooke¡¯s face as she does so. Then again as she takes a mouthful of the water. She swallows them down, Brooke¡¯s facial expression easing up some as she does. ¡°You can have the last of the water. But after the rain eases up, we should probably look for more. It¡¯ll be a few days before the stream returns to normal. We should set our jugs out in the rain, at least it¡¯ll be something.¡± Brooke fiddles with the fibers from his bag tying it slowly even though he¡¯d done it hundreds of times it still ends up a poorly crafted as his first week. As he ties and reties the chord the girl watches his struggles. At first, she ignores him watching the rain fall. Eventually, it gets to her. ¡°Let me see it.¡± He looks up to her raising his eyebrow. ¡°What?¡± She gestures with her hand telling him to hand it over. ¡°The fiber? It won¡¯t be the best looking, but It¡¯ll work.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t hold itself together.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not tha-.¡° She snatches it off his lap. ¡°-t bad.¡± She unravels all the work he¡¯s done. He frowns watching hours of work being undone. She looks over each strip of the fiber scraping the bottom side with her nail occasionally picking small pieces off until she¡¯s satisfied. Brooke cranes his neck slightly trying to see what she¡¯s doing. She ties it much neater and tighter than he ever could; finishing the foot long section by the time the rain slows. She ties the end off thrusting it towards him. He nods at the chord taking it from her hand. ¡°Thank you. I still had quite some time left on that.¡± She turns back to the rain crossing her arms. ¡°This rain is taking forever.¡± ¡°It¡¯s already slowed down some.¡± He points out in the distance where there¡¯s a mix of lighter colored clouds and some small breaks. ¡°When those clouds get here it will slow enough to walk. Just need a little patience.¡± ¡°Everything needs to hurry up.¡± ¡°Relax while you can, the walks going to be worse now that it¡¯s all water and mud. We might be able to find your shoes.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°Once it dries you might regret that.¡± ¡°What are you? My Father?¡± He puts his hands up. ¡°I¡¯m not wanting any title like that.¡± ¡°Good. Father helps to support the whole. You wouldn¡¯t know anything about that. You don¡¯t build anything up. You just take from a whole and leave.¡± Brooke smiles and gives a slight chuckle. She glares at him half screaming. ¡°What are you laughing about?!¡± His smile broadens. ¡°That¡¯s one way to look at it. I¡¯ve probably have taken more than I¡¯ve given at this point in my life. But I work for my coin. I have helped many wholes as you put it. Every year I settle down for the winter making any coin I can to afford supplies for my next year of journeys. I may not build up one place a lot over my whole life, but I¡¯ve built many up a little.¡± She frowns silently staring at the ground. He pats her on the shoulder. ¡°There is safety in that way of thinking. But that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s meant for everybody. The rains letting up. Don¡¯t forget your jug. You¡¯ll regret not having that as much as you¡¯re going to miss your shoes.¡± Brooke stops giving her time to catch up. The rocks nicking her feet every few steps if she¡¯s not paying attention. He points ahead of them. Something had smashed dirt, boulder and tree into the dirt. An oddly shaped oval was clearly pressed into the dirt. A tree had been snapped off at the trunk laying squarely through the center of it. The left side was mostly muddied water with a single spot of clear water over top of a mossy boulder. The right side seemed off. The more Brooke looked it over the worse he felt about it. The color looked wrong. It was the faintest red. Scanning it over time and time again he found the culprit. Smashed deep into the dirt was the body of an animal. Completely unrecognizable in this state. The only reason he knew it was there was because of the dark red water surrounding a patch of brown moss. He frowns at it. Maybe a deer? He looks up to see the girl was staring at the patch. It was the first time he had seen anything but anger or apathy on her face. ¡°Poor thing was probably scared stiff.¡± ¡°What could have even done this?¡± He strokes his chin thoughtfully before surveying the area around them. ¡°I think anything natural is out of the question.¡± She rolls her eyes at him. The trees leading to and going from the hole have all fallen. A short distance away he can make out another similar hole and then another. His face lights up slightly as a thought crosses his mind. ¡°This reminds me of a few legends I haven¡¯t heard for a few winters now. Do your people have tales of the lost giants?¡± She remains silent. ¡°What of the wandering one or the homebound titans?¡± She shakes her head as if he was making the names up on the spot and she wasn¡¯t going to fall for it. He spoke over his shoulder he waived for her to follow. ¡°The stories change slightly depending on which people you ask. But they all agree on a few things. They¡¯re impossibly giant, blind, deaf, and can¡¯t feel. The wandering one is said to be forty strides high, sickly grey in color, the others slightly smaller but still unnaturally colored. They don¡¯t stop walking. Not to eat, drink, sleep. Nothing. Some say they were once human others say they were made by a mad god. They are said to be the reason for the fall of several great kingdoms. Some say they are making their way home to the biglends.¡± She rolled her eyes at him. ¡°I was warned of the stories wanderers tell.¡± Brooke shrugs. ¡°Just legends I¡¯ve been heard in my travels.¡± He points to the extra deep spot where clear water has gathered on top of the boulder. ¡°That looks like the best water were going to get.¡± Time passed in silence. Occasionally he would see her tense up and draw her pack tight against her back before releasing it to drop down heavy. Her body would shrink at the pain from the burn on her shoulders. It reminded him of himself in his youth. Upset at someone or something, seething as he walked. Yelling to the wind beating his fists purple against the trees. ¡°It¡¯s still eating at you.¡± She releases her strings putting her hands to her sides. ¡°Nothing is eating at me.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem like nothing.¡± ¡°Well, it is.¡± ¡°Walking angry just roughs up your head while whatever you¡¯re cross about couldn¡¯t care in the least.¡± She scoffs. ¡°The only thing that affects them is...¡± She clamps her mouth tight with a huff. ¡°Them who?¡± ¡°No one.¡± She snaps. He rubs his chin. ¡°Friends, I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve had many since leaving home. Called them friends at the time. Looking back, I don¡¯t think that fits. They just took what money I had from me, rarely gave anything back. Liked to take my drink without asking too. Best thing I got from them was this knife, and haven¡¯t let it go since.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t sound like friends I have.¡± ¡°When you¡¯re a homeless drunk they¡¯re the friends you find. Gamblers, other drunks and people taking advantage of those down on their luck. We only ever managed to make worse luck for ourselves.¡± He smiles. ¡°I got into quite a few scraps back in the day over small pieces of nothing. I¡¯d avoid doing that if you can.¡± He takes a long breath. ¡°My parents, well I haven¡¯t seen them since I went home. Mother had passed by that time and father was less than pleased to see me. Can¡¯t say I didn¡¯t deserve the thrashing I got. Being a disgusting drunk by that point, the only thing to my name was the dirty clothes on my back and the knife. After a few weeks the guilt crept in, and I couldn¡¯t shake it loose.¡± ¡°I was never good with books and couldn¡¯t sit still for the lectures. My sister would always do my schoolwork for me. But that¡¯s all in the past now.¡± He follows behind her for a few minutes before taking up the lead once more. He would walk until a certain distance and then stop and wait for her to catch up. Eventually she walking beside the path, watching for the thorny plants. He could see her feet were wearing on her already. Walking on the balls of her feet and slowing almost to a crawl as she stepped around every rock and twig. She balls her fists. ¡°Why would a drunk drifter be walking with me for free?!¡± Brooke stops. ¡°I hadn¡¯t really thought about it. I guess I just saw someone that needed help and decided to lend them a hand. I would hardly call myself a drunk anymore, I can¡¯t stomach more than two mugs before I¡¯ve had my fill.¡± ¡°Why would I trust a drifter?¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t just trust anyone. You¡¯ll get yourself sold off into slavery or killed. That¡¯s why I¡¯m not taking anything you say or do to me personally.¡± ¡°How do I know you¡¯re not going to do those things?¡± There is a pregnant pause before he finds a response. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re asking for proof that I¡¯m not going to do those things I don¡¯t have much of a way to prove that I won¡¯t. I¡¯ve got my knife. I¡¯ve got some rope. I¡¯ve got my sleeping bag. Some extra clothes. Minimal supplies for injuries. If you want to investigate my pack, you can. Take anything you see as unsafe.¡± ¡°So, you¡¯ll have me walk there so I don¡¯t have to be dragged.¡± His jaw dropped slightly. ¡°How things work out here you¡¯d already be tied, gagged, and walk regardless. Unless you got ¡°lucky¡± and it was a big operation. Where you would be thrown in the back of a cart for potentially weeks on end along with any other unlucky girl with a pretty enough face.¡± She stopped, looking him over as if she could tell if it was an act or not just by looking at him. He shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m not going to convince you to trust me. I¡¯m just doing what¡¯s right.¡± ¡°Who says you know what¡¯s right?!¡± He takes a long breath before his response grates past his teeth. ¡°I do.¡± Her mouth snaps shut before she stomps past him without another look. He pinches the bridge of his nose for a long moment. ¡°This girl.¡± They continued at a brisker pace, he could see in her body language she was becoming more agitated with each stub, slide and stumble. ¡°Do you all wear shoes from a young age?¡± Silence. ¡°Most villages like yours I¡¯ve been to almost everyone is barefoot. Is there a reason you all do it differently?¡± More silence. ¡°We can still go try to find them. They shouldn¡¯t be too far back.¡± She stops in the middle of the road, not turning to face him. She balls her fists stomping into the mud. ¡°If you want me to have my shoes, you go get them!¡± Brooke lets out a deep sigh. ¡°Will you at least stay where you are? It should only be a few minutes.¡± ¡°Fine!¡± She stands motionless as he backs away watching to see if she will actually stay. She watches over her shoulder as he makes his way back. She grips the straps of her bag. Taking a step forward her food finds a branch of tangle brush hidden under the muck. She cuts off a squeal with her hand looking over her shoulder to see if Brooke noticed. He continued his head scanning back and forth across the path as he walked. She only made it a few more steps before her footing found a patch of mud that left her sprawled out on the side of the road. New aches and half covered in a fresh coat of mud she decided to just stay where she was. Brooke tried his best to hide his amusement but clearly failed by the look on her face. She crossed her arms as he tried to hand her the shoes. He set them beside her asking, ¡°Should we continue then?¡± Her face was unchanged as he stood back up. ¡°Maybe try the river? It won¡¯t be perfect but better than completely covered in it right?¡± She had managed to get most of the mud off herself, but her dress wasn¡¯t as lucky. What started a fresh green dress is now a mess of half green and half brown with no rhyme or reason to which parts were brown, and which were green. As Brooke emerged from the tree line, he caught sight of a man traveling towards Hirath. Brooke waved the man down and meeting him halfway. ¡°Are you headed to Hirath?¡± Then man nods. ¡°I am.¡± Brooke juts his thumb towards the woods. ¡°I¡¯ve got a girl from there just behind me. I¡¯m doubtful she¡¯ll make it further than Liank. Could you let someone know where she is when you get there?¡± A shrill voice pierces the air. ¡°You¡¯re just like the rest of them!¡± The men look to the girl flinging mud with each stomp away from them. ¡°What¡¯s her name?¡± Brooke shakes his head. ¡°She won¡¯t tell me. Short blonde hair and golden eyes and a temper. They¡¯ll know her.¡± The man shrugs. ¡°If it¡¯s none of your business you could leave her.¡± Brooke¡¯s face tells the man all he needed to know. ¡°A better man than me.¡± The newfound tension could be cut with a knife. Every word Brooke spoke he might as well have said to himself. It was met with either complete silence or occasionally a sigh of contempt. He hadn¡¯t meant to make her angry. But the silence continued into the night regardless, there was no moon to show the way but still she trudged on as if Brooke ceased to exist. ¡°Listen.¡± She showed no signs of hearing him. He spoke up. ¡°Listen. I apologize for sending word back. But I feel your parents should know you¡¯re alive.¡± She stopped spinning to face him. The Darkness of the night concealed every feature but the fiery glow in her eyes. ¡°They don¡¯t care about me! They just care about what I can do for them! Everyone only cares about what I can do for them! Selene, go watch the children. Selene stop trying to spear fish, clothes need mended. Selene you know that the men do the hunting not girls.¡± She screamed. ¡°I¡¯m so sick of it! I want to do what I want to do! Not what they decide I should do!¡± He put his hands up reactively. ¡°Please, I know it¡¯s a lot. But try to quiet down some. We don¡¯t know who might be around to hear you.¡± She tightens her fist until blood forms around her nails. She lets out a loud grated shriek through her teeth. ¡°Just like the rest of them! It¡¯s only about you! Who cares about what I want!¡± Brooke pleads in a hushed tone. ¡°Selene! Please quiet down.¡± A noise is heard a short distance from them. Like the snapping of a twig followed shortly by the rustling of leaves. Brooke holds his breath for what seems like forever. Before a dim light can be seen flickering amongst the trees. It licks away at an unseen wick before a rusted lantern beats back the darkness surrounding it. Brooke is left frozen. His head left abuzz with the words, ¡°Please, gods willing not again.¡± He slowly reaches for his knife. A gruff voice whispers in his ear. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about trying something.¡± Something pokes into his back, clearly pointed but not enough to get through his jacket without some force. ¡°Run!¡± Brooke is grabbed by the shoulder as he takes a step forward, feeling the tip of the blade poking into his back. Selene starts running, her feet striking the ground; One, Two, Three, Four. The sound of bodies colliding can be heard in the darkness before a louder thud into the dirt. The man with the lantern illuminates the situation showing the six of them. On one the ground wrestling with the girl as she kicks and screams trying to claw herself away from him. A bigger man whose face looks like it was used to break rocks had ahold of Brooke. The only tell of the last of them was the faint glint of a crossbow bolt in the distance. The man with the lantern holds it up to Brooke¡¯s face. ¡°Now who might we have here?¡± Brooke squints at him, lips remaining pressed together. The man tugs on Brooke¡¯s shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s talkin to you.¡± His hands clenched as the knife bit deeper. He cleared his throat. ¡°Names Brooke.¡± The man nods. ¡°Brooke you say. What¡¯s Brooke up and about this time of night? It¡¯s well passed time to have settled down for the day.¡± Brooke nods in agreement. ¡°I have to say I agree with you. But some others may disagree with us.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± He stroked his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Looking you over; it looks like you woulda known better.¡± He strolls over to the girl the man on top of her pinning her arms to the dirt. He grabs a fist full of her hair raising her head to his. The lantern shows all the sweat and dirt covering her face. ¡°Pretty one here. Didn¡¯t you teach her to be quiet at night.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been a work in progress.¡± He smiles looking at her. ¡°Well, we¡¯ll continue that progress for you.¡± Brooke tries to take a step forward leading to an awkward shuffle. The man sets the lamp down beside himself. He raises a hand to Brooke. ¡°Now, now. You don¡¯t have to worry. She¡¯ll be well taken care of. After all, why would a father leave his princess go if she wouldn¡¯t be.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not.. His daugh-¡° The man grabs her by the jaw keeping it open. He pulls a wooden gag from his bag with one hand gracefully fastening it around her head. He holds his callused hand up to her face, his index finger is missing down to the first knuckle. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want to lose any more of it now, would we?¡± He purses her lips before jamming what was left of his course finger across her teeth and gums. She squirmed, kicked and screamed through the gag to no avail. ¡°Full set of teeth. Keep it that way boys.¡± He looked her over from head to toe talking to himself. ¡°Exceptionally sun burnt. That¡¯ll cost us some so it doesn¡¯t leave any scares. Hair is very light blonde, probably from the sun. If we sell her fast enough, she¡¯ll go for more.¡± He squints at her eyes. ¡°And what¡¯s your real eye color?¡± He held one eye open as she thrashed her head back and forth. He nodded again. His henchmen put his knees on her arms; his hands around her neck and jaw forcing her head completely still. The boss forced an eye open and wiped across it with his thumb. She squealed through the wood and kicked. He cocked his head slightly puzzled. He took two of his fingers and pinched her eyes slowly, flicking the tears from his fingers. A guttural shriek forced its way through the wood. ¡°Calm down girl. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m killin ya.¡± He squints before raising the lantern to get another look. ¡°Are those real?¡± He squeezes her eyeball again. ¡°They¡¯re not hard. They don¡¯t come lose. We need to get her to Hayet.¡± He turns his head to Brooke. ¡°You can shake loose your pack. You won¡¯t be needing it anymore.¡± He fishes a pair of metal cuffs from the bag motioning to have her flipped over. Tries as she might the man is much stronger and heavier than her and he eventually gets her there. The man with the knife pulls at Brookes pack strap notioning for it to come off. Brooke takes a breath shrugging it from his shoulders as the man slings it over his own shoulder. Brooke Crains his neck forward before smashing his head into the man¡¯s nose. Brooke steps forward from the knife before elbowing the man in the throat causing him to ungracefully shrink to the ground. A loud whirling was heard by Brooke¡¯s ear before a thud sounded beside the man with the cuffs. ¡°What the fuck do you think you¡¯re doing Salen?!¡± Brooke bolts for the woods. The cuffs clicked together. The boss now standing shines the lantern on what has transgressed. He looks down to the man clutching his throat coughing his lungs out. ¡°We were going to let you walk. Now we can¡¯t.¡± A click was heard in the distance. ¡°Another arrow is ready. One has to stay with the girl. The one on the ground will be back up soon. If he didn¡¯t want to kill me before he does now.¡± He stretches his back testing the wound. Not deep but could get worse. He unsheathes his knife. An arrow sinks into the tree he¡¯s hiding behind. The man with the lantern turns to the tree. ¡°That¡¯s a fucking tree you idiot.¡± Brooke shifts slightly on his feet. Thank whatever gods that be, he didn¡¯t get the hint. But now is the best time to act while he¡¯s reloading. Gripping his knife hard he sprints at the man. The man on the ground lunges at his legs in between coughs causing him to stumble. He falls with all his body weight onto the man with the lantern. The knife glancing from the glass and fumbling from his fingers as they hit the ground. The lantern smashes, the ground is quickly saturated with oil and the flame lands much too close to it. They rolled together, hair pulling, teeth gnashing, fists and elbows being thrown in every which direction. Brooke ended up on top scrambling for the knife before he was kicked in the ribs and a mean hook landed square on his jaw. His head Crains with the blow. The tase of iron and dirt throughout his mouth. He grips the man on the ground by the throat screaming at the top of his lungs. ¡°Where is SHE?!¡± As his fist connects with his nose causing the bones in his hands to pop and crunch unnaturally. His pinky hanging limp He connects a second time. ¡°WHERE IS SARAH?!¡± The man standing over him wraps his arms under Brooke lifting him off the boss. His feet scramble to find footing before smashing his head into the man¡¯s nose. His vision flashed white, and he couldn¡¯t see straight. The mans grip loosened slightly before Brooke¡¯s head smashed into his again. He was dazed, barely standing after that one he shook his head trying to clear the pain and fuzz. He put his hand to his head before he was forced to the ground again by a sharp pain puncturing his back just below the ribs. ¡°Fuck!¡± He lay their breathing heavy, his head, his hand and his head all screaming out. His bag lay in wet. He slinks towards it before receiving a boot to the head. His hand slid inside the bag all but briefly finding something smooth and hard. The man rolls him over before sitting on his chest. The arrow. The arrow is all he can think. The pain is immeasurable. His head screamed pain. The man raised his blade but before he could get a word out Brookes full force jabbed the smooth hard rock into the man¡¯s neck twisting it and forcing him off. He clenched his neck and fell with little resistance. Brooke shuffled gripping the arrow forcing it from the dirt beneath him, so it hurt significantly less. He lay on the ground breathing heavily. He heard shuffling beside him before the slapping of flesh on flesh and wheezing shortly thereafter. Someone was now standing over him. He lifted his arms unable to make out the shape. ¡°Girl. You¡¯re going to lay down or you¡¯re getting a quarrel just like your dear old man.¡± She squeals from behind the wood. Her body language more defiant than ever. Brooke says slowly between breaths. ¡°Just.¡± ¡°Lay down.¡± ¡°Selene.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing left.¡± ¡°At least you¡¯ll live.¡± Unseen tears form around her eyes. She gets on her knees beside him. ¡°That¡¯s good now. Boss?¡± A hard wheeze is given off as the boss starts coughing. ¡°Tob?¡± A muddied hand slaps his temple through labored breath. ¡°Bren?¡± Silence. ¡°Bren? Are you alright?¡± The man straightens. ¡°If he¡¯s Dead ill cut you open old man.¡± ¡°You¡¯re late to that party.¡± He pants in between labored breaths. ¡°Shut the fuck up.¡± He slowly creeps over to the man laying beside Brooke keeping the bow pointed at Brooke. He kneels with one hand and turns the mans head revealing eyes staring blankly into the night sky and a large pool of blood. He points the bow to Brooke¡¯s head. ¡°You¡¯re fucking-¡° The girl throws her body into him. Causing the quarrel to sink into the dirt beside him. Brooke groans audibly his body feeling like sacks of sand; throwing himself at the man¡¯s legs he rips at them with all he has. Selene slams into him again causing him to fall onto the man in the muck. Brooke rips at the quarrel in the dirt sinking it into the man¡¯s belly. He squeals as blood pools around the shaft soaking Brookes hands. His boots sliding in the muck as he tries to get up. Brooke reaches out scooping up shards of glass, dirt and the faint ember. His hand becomes a ball of flame the instant it touches orange. He forces himself to roll, slapping the ground as the ball catches the oil-soaked dirt. The men had no chance once the flames lit. Oil and blood burned the same. It spread quick; the man with the arrow in him squealed as it overtook him. In acts of desperation he clung onto and clawed at the man trying his best to scramble away. Both eventually rolling around in the muddied dirt. Wailing hellish screeches until their throats gave out. Brooke had barely noticed them as he was trying not to succumb to the fire himself. He scrambled away from the pool of blood nearest him holding his hand up like a blistering torch before slapping it onto dry dirt time and time again. He hadn¡¯t noticed Selene come over to him. She began stomping on his hand over and over one time after another. At this point there probably would have been less damage if it had just burned itself out. Now the only sound left was the snapping and popping of meat over a fire. It was hellishly perverted by the ordeal they just made it through. Brooke lay there. Exhausted. The sound of boots scraping against dirt battled the unholy sizzling. Brooke couldn¡¯t even think, let alone register what it was. The boss was now on his feet. He winced as he touched his nose before setting his hands on either side of it and with a crunch followed by a fountain of blood he exhaled. he dusts himself off and wipes what blood he can from his nose. He overlooks the scene. ¡°No hard feelings. Business is business.¡± Brooke wheezes from the ground. Letting his head thud into the dirt. Selene stood staring at the man. She was bound, gagged, covered in dirt, blood, and sweat from head to toe. At this point seeing her at this time of night would cause a new legend to be born. The words ring out in Brooke¡¯s skull violently. He exhales deeply, closing his eyes. ¡°Business is business.¡± Selene turns to Brooke in shock. Her eyes filled with rage and hatred. She stomped in defiance. He speaks slowly in between breaths. ¡°No. Just this time listen to me and sit down.¡± The man fixes his coat and his hair before walking off. His gait slightly off balance. She stares him down until he disappears entirely into the dark. ¡°Give me a few moments. I¡¯ll get the gag from your mouth. I just need to rest a short while.¡± She falls to her knees beside him. Collapsing on top of him. He can feel her as she sobs violently through the wood. He puts his hand on her back. ¡°You did good.¡± The morning was rough. She had bruised and split lips: her head and face had cuts and scrapes every and anywhere and her feet were a mess from stomping on fire repeatedly. Brooke on the other hand was more injury than man. Arrow punched firmly into his back, but he wasn¡¯t lucky enough for it to go clean through. With each step it jostled, causing pure agony. Thankfully those were few and far in between. On top of that, his face looked like he had gotten into a fight with a stone wall and lost. His right hand had three fingers swollen purple and hanging uselessly. His left, a mess of half cooked meat, charcoal and pain. And the wound on his had back tore itself open far wider so it wouldn¡¯t even begin to heal. Now he was the one lagging. Each step was agony, gritting his teeth as each foot bounced wrongly off the dirt. Rocks he hadn¡¯t noticed before became humbling. No matter how he stepped on them they left him stumbling. Each time he stumbled a silent look of worry would cross Selene¡¯s face. She had somehow learned patience as she waited on each and every grunt of effort and sharp breath of pain. ¡°Let me sit a moment.¡± His tongue flopped wrongly around his mouth as he spoke. She stopped, sitting a short distance from him. ¡°At this rate we may make it there by winter.¡± He mused as he stretched his legs out in front of him with a long groan. ¡°We¡¯ll see about getting those cuffs off in the next town. Worst comes to worst your smith would be able to free you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to go home.¡± ¡°I think it¡¯d be best if you went back. You don¡¯t have to stay forever, just until you¡¯re ready.¡± ¡°When will I be ready?¡± ¡°When the lessons you¡¯ve learned these past couple days sink in.¡± Her lips tremble. ¡°I- I¡¯m-¡° Brooke¡¯s smile was a mess. Blood on his teeth and barely able to hide the pain he was in. ¡°Just try not to put anyone else through this.¡± She manages to choke out a single word as she tries to keep herself from crying. ¡°Why?¡± He sighs. Taking a slightly somber expression. ¡°I have.¡± He stops himself swallowing hard. ¡°I had a sister.¡± ¡°Sarah?¡± The girl asked. Brooke nods slowly. ¡°I had this little habit of hiding from her when it was time to go out in the woods for work. I¡¯d hide along the normal path and wait for her to pop out and scare her. She was never late. Not until the day she went missing at least. Weeks turned to months of searching. They pronounced her dead by winter. I couldn¡¯t accept that. So, I began searching. Weeks turned to months; months turned to years. I was supposed to protect her.¡± He tilted his head back the tears from his eyes dripping to the dirt beneath him. He gestures to himself. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.¡± He lets out a seep sigh trying his best to get off the ground. ¡°The day isn¡¯t getting any younger. We were only half a day from Liank. Hopefully they will let me work off a place to stay for us.¡± He pushes himself up with a grunt. His elbow clicking and arms straining as he lifts himself. Selene steps over giving him something to hold onto as he pushes his feet under him as stiffly as humanly possible. By the time they make it into town the sun has well passed set. A few dim lanterns hanging on posts outside illuminate the small town and the few people still outside for gods know what reasons. ¡°Do you guys have an inn?¡± His voice was hoarse and gravely from thirst. One man nodded at a two-story building across the way. Brooke nods thanks as he drags himself to the doors. Selene stands behind him as he turns the nob. An empty counter sits in front of him as he enters the room. To the left there was a set of stairs followed by an empty dining room with two tables and a handful of chairs scattered between them. The entire place seemed vacant. They shuffled in and shut the door. He stepped up to the counter looking past it to see a partially ajar door. He raised his voice slightly. ¡°Anyone in?¡± He was met with a silence. He rested himself against the counter. He coughed, raising his voice louder. ¡°Hello?¡± A movement upstairs followed. ¡°Just go slap the door. She¡¯s probably back there fuckin off again.¡± Brooke moves to push himself from the counter when Selene stops him going around the counter herself pounding on the door. It creaks open revealing an empty washroom. ¡°No one''s in here.¡± There''s a huff before heavy steps come down the stairs. ¡°What good is she if she doesn¡¯t even do her job.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°What¡¯ll ya need?¡± ¡°Room for one.¡± Brooke croaks out. ¡°And any work if you have any that needs doing.¡± The main raises his eyebrow at him. ¡°You making her work for your room?¡± Brooke rights himself doing his best and failing to hide the shape he¡¯s in. ¡°I¡¯m not that kind of a man. I¡¯ll sleep on the dirt until someone comes for her.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not in any shape to be working.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve worked through worse.¡± ¡°I doubt that son.¡± ¡°Rooms upstairs. Take the second one.¡± Selene steps around the counter. ¡°What kind of work do you have?¡± He looks to her. ¡°Dishes, cleaning and taking out the shit pots.¡± Her nose wrinkles at the suggestions. He turns back to Brooke. ¡°They all pay like dirt but it¡¯s what I got.¡± Brooke nods. ¡°Will she have board for the night?¡± ¡°She will.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll start with the pots.¡± Selene tightens her fists. ¡°Where are the dishes?¡± ¡°Are you telling me you¡¯re going to work?¡± She glares at him. ¡°Yeah.¡± The man jams his thumb towards a door on the other side of the stairs. ¡°They¡¯re in there.¡± He starts back up the stairs. ¡°If you¡¯re like the other girl around here you¡¯ll owe for the night.¡± It wasn¡¯t the first time Brooke woke up behind an inn but it might be the worst time. The cut on his back scabbing over and cracking when he tries to get up. The arrow did not allow him to fall asleep. He needs a clinic. He stumbles into the inn seeing Selene behind the counter. ¡°What are you doing?¡± She glares at him. ¡°Working.¡± ¡°Why?¡± He stammers. ¡°For a room?¡± Brooke blinks at her. He hadn¡¯t even considered her working for her own room. ¡°Where¡¯s the old guy?¡± An unamused voice bounces from the walls to his left. ¡°Braum, the old guy¡¯s name is Braum.¡± Brooke looks to see man seated at one of the tables. ¡°What do you need with the old man?¡± Brooke hobbles over to him ungracefully falling into a seat across from him. ¡°Do you have a clinic, or a healer, or a hospital?¡± ¡°We had a healer.¡± ¡°What happened to them?¡± ¡°They were ran off and called a quack. Whatever that means.¡± ¡°So you guys have no one to practice medicine?¡± ¡°We have the clinic. Who do you think ran off the healer?¡± Brooke sighs. ¡°Where is the clinic?¡± ¡°Out there down the road to the left, big sign on it.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± He throws open the door to the clinic. The man behind the counter looks up. ¡°Are you needing something?¡± ¡°I¡¯m needing a bit of help. Got something in my back I can seem to get out myself.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get the pinch-¡° Brooke turns to show the arrow lodged in his back. ¡°Doctor. I¡¯ll go get the Doctor.¡± Brooke nods to him. ¡°It would be kindly appreciated.¡± The doctor came out and leads him further into the building. He gestures to a wooden table stained red from past usage. ¡°Can we save the jacket?¡± The doctor spins him around without even acknowledging he said anything. ¡°Ready?¡± Brooke grits his teeth. ¡°No.¡± The doctor grips the shaft of the arrow snapping it. Brookes legs buckle giving out from under him. The other man slips his arms under Brookes catching him, lifting him until he could get his legs back underneath him. ¡°Fuck!¡± The doctor begins tugging at his coat prompting Brooke to shrug it and his shirt from his shoulders. The doctor looks Brooke over before gesturing to the table. ¡°The legs look as bad as your torso?¡± Brooke grunts as he struggles to lift his legs to the table. ¡°On your side. We¡¯re going to need to push it out.¡± ¡°I was afraid you were going to say that. As far as I know the legs are fine.¡± ¡°Do we need to check?¡± ¡°No. They are fine.¡± He nods. The aide produces a bottle pulling the stopper for the top, Amber in color its smell stings his nostrils. Brooke shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯ll pass. Just use it on the wound.¡± The doctor and aide both show surprise. Brooke continues. ¡°You start pushing and I¡¯ll pass out anyway. I don¡¯t need to tempt fate more than I already have.¡± The doctor shrugs. ¡°Ready?¡± The aide takes a long swig from the bottle. ¡°No.¡± When Brooke comes to, he¡¯s in an empty room; his boots off beside the cot he¡¯s lying in. bandages-soaked red. He wills himself up with a deep groan. ¡°Lay back down.¡± A familiar voice demanded. ¡°You¡¯re always trying to get up.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a room to pay for.¡± ¡°It¡¯s paid for.¡± ¡°How do you-¡° ¡°I worked for it. Lay down.¡± She pushes him back onto the cot, his body putting up little resistance. This is the worst outcome. Being laid out and taken care of by a child. He¡¯s been through the thick of it. But right now, might be the thickest of it. He lets out a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯ll be up and around by the end of the week.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be up when they say you should be up.¡± Another deep sigh. He looks to her. ¡°You¡¯ve got to get home you know.¡± She grimaces. ¡°I feel ma and pa will have that covered before long.¡± She taps on her legs. ¡°I don¡¯t want to think about the tongue lashing ill have when they get ahold of me.¡± He shuffles uncomfortably in the cot, his body screaming in protest. With a slight smile he says. ¡°Shows they care, even if you don¡¯t see eye to eye.¡± She stares down at the floor. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°You did good your first go around. When you¡¯re ready to do it again, prepare a little better. Maybe say some goodbyes.¡± She smiles slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡± She gets up from her chair. ¡°You better not get up until after I¡¯m gone.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡± Creaking and rattling can be heard outside the tent he¡¯s holed up in. A bit early for the merchants and going the wrong way. Brooke wills himself to sit up and struggles to put his boots on. The aide walks in hearing the grunts of pain and heavy feet slap the floor. ¡°Going somewhere?¡± ¡°To see who¡¯s here.¡± The aide peeks out the curtain as the rickety cart passes. ¡°Guy older than you, no wares and the horses look like they¡¯re going to collapse.¡± It¡¯s been a little over a week, Brooke thought to himself. It could be him, but it also could not be. Only one way to find out. Slowly he crept from the tent. ¡°If you hurt yourself, you¡¯re fixing it. The doctors in the next town over.¡± Brooke nods with some effort. By the time he makes it to the door there¡¯s already yelling. The old man in his chair gawking at the two people. Selene at the top of the stairs looking at the floor and the man yelling at the top of his lungs. ¡°We were worried sick! Everyone that could was searching for the woods and stream!¡± Brooke leaned up against the doorway his arms folded across his chest as the man continued. ¡°Do you know how much of a fuss you caused everybody?!¡± She was silent. That¡¯s the first time that¡¯s happened; besides when she had no choice. ¡°What do you have to say for yourself?!¡± She looked up to him with tears in her eyes. She gritted her teeth and mumbled through them. ¡°Nothing.¡± ¡°What?!¡± ¡°Nothing! Okay?!¡± She yelled through her tear-soaked face. ¡°That¡¯s not how a lady talks!¡± Her face sinks back to the floor. ¡°Yes father.¡± ¡°That¡¯s better. Let¡¯s go.¡± The old man speaks up. ¡°You¡¯re just going to take my best worker? Just like that? You¡¯re going to stick me with the other one again?¡± He turns to the man. ¡°This. Is a family matter. We¡¯re going to keep it that way.¡± He turns and jumps slightly unaware Brooke was behind him the whole time. ¡°Is it so entertaining the whole village has to stop and watch?!¡± ¡°There''s only two of us watching.¡± His face flashes a brighter shade of red while pushing past Brooke. ¡°Selene! come!¡± She makes her way down the stairs slowly. ¡°You can move faster than that Girl!¡± Brooke stops her momentarily before she passes through the door. ¡°Just a few more years. Start prepping now.¡± ¡°What did you say to her?!¡± She hugs him tight. He stiffens up trying to ignore the pain it¡¯s causing him. The man pries them apart glaring at Brooke. ¡°I swear to the gods if you did anything to my little-¡° ¡°Shut up father! If he did anything I would be long dead.¡± His jaw is left agape at that. ¡°Come!¡± Brooke smiles with a nod. ¡°Good luck kid.¡±