Thread: The Prophecy (Tesora & CharmSnake)

Yarrol woke briefly in the night. Gwyn's body was warm next to his, much closer than he had realized before he had gone to sleep. The previous day's events had brought them together and again at night they had somehow drawn close. Even as a silly coincidence the parallel could not be ignored. He listened to her breathing, heavy in her regenerative slumber in the darkness as the rain pattered on the tent skin. She was carrying her burden well. Being hunted by a madman for the subjugation of a kingdom was not enviable in the least. She inhaled and exhaled over and over and the faint silhouette of her body rose and fell steadily with the rhythm. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep. He was up before dawn and left her alone to get as much sleep as she could. Wrapping up his leggings and donning his cloak he took a blanket, chose an enembered bough from one of the camp fires and strode through the encampment and across the pasture clearing to find an appropriate spot of solitude for repentance. He had taken six lives the day before. Justly or not, he had to atone, for nature had its own checks and balances and needed no human justice to even or uneven things. It was difficult to find dry tinder but with the glowing end of the bough he was able to nurture a small fire and place several pine cones around it. Fire was renewal. Sitting before the flames cross-legged upon the blanket he stilled his mind and opened his soul to the elements to release the anguish and the wrath and regain the balance of peace. As the sun began to rise over the tree tops on the slope at his back the ranger stepped out of the trance to the crackling of the flames. The cones were loosening as they dried, enough for him to pry open the scales and remove a few seeds from six of them. Then he rose to stamp out the weakening fire and pocketed the seeds. The ritual completed he returned to the camp to prepare a pack for the road but something was up. The camp was abuzz. Luko, he called to his friend standing at a vantage point on the edge of the clearing. What's going on? Luko waved him over as he looked down the hill between the trees. Bandits on the road below, he said as he pointed to the torchlights flickering in the morning shadows. The soldiers voices could be heard shouting and their horses neighing. Several of them, Yarrol noted as his eyes traced along the road. At least fifty or sixty. They've stopped there, said Luko. It looks like they want to come up and see what's here. We all have to go, said Yarrol. Yes, Luko nodded. The camp was alive with activity. Tents were orderly struck and packs were methodically packed. Everyone would easily be bundled up and gone before the brutes ascended the slope through the trees, but there would be no dawdling. Yarrol found Gwyn at the tent of their bed. Come, he said. Wrap up these blankets and take them to the yurt. Zol is on the road. We still have time but cannot waste it. Then he bid her go while he struck the tent. He would not take it, it would be too heavy, so he wrapped it up and left it with a pile of supplies. The yurt itself was already being dismantled when he met with Gwyn standing next to his sister. The Princess was dressed in leather cloak and leggings with a proper rain hood. She would travel much easier today. Tirra was handing her a pack of foodstuffs for the road. A saddle bag, he said to her. They are with the horses, she replied. And my crossbow. Here, said Tirra. She already had it for him, leaning against the back of her leg. She handed it to him, then unslung a fresh quiver of arrows from her back before he could ask for ammunition. Thank you, he said and embraced her farewell. Then Tirra gave the same embrace to Gwyndolen, as if she were already family. We will see you again, she said with a happy grin despite the fact that she was on a one way trip. As Yarrol led Gwyn back towards the horse pasture the camp had almost disappeared. Looking at the empty spaces among the brush it looked as though there had never been any tents there at all. Other than a couple of blackened fire pits, the piles of packed up supplies and the campers crossing to and fro as they worked, there was only wilderness. Yarrol passed the first horse, then stopped at the second. Glancing over at a third he decided on the one that he had already a hold of. It was light brown with a white streak down the nose and a couple of white splotches on its flank. It was a good horse, sturdy and with a good temperament. This would be important as they would not have the luxury of other horses to ease the nerves of a stubborn ride. Luko approached with simple saddle and bags and quickly dressed the horse. Yarrol loaded the blankets and the food into the bags and mounted. Holding out his hand, he helped the Princess up. She could ride properly in front of him in these leggings. I shall return, he said to Luko as he took the reins. As always, his friend replied and nodded assuredly to Gwyndolen. The sun was not visible in the solid grey sky but daylight was fully upon them as they rounded the slope up behind the camp. There was a good trail there that headed south. For now they had to stay off the road but perhaps they could meet up with it later. His stomach was empty and he figured that hers was too but breakfast would have to wait. A gap in the trees afforded a view back down on the clearing that was the camp, now just an empty greenish hole in the green trees. The woodsmen and their tents had vanished. The road far below could not be seen from that point on the hillside and would not be for a couple more hours. It was still raining, although not terribly hard. Thunder rolled in the distance to the south - the direction that they were headed.