A/N: Okay, so again with the large intervals between updates. But today I finished my summer course and so, in celebration, I'm finally posting the next chapter. As of right now it's unedited and so subject to slight change. Keep this in mind and excuse any spelling and grammatical errors. Aside from that please read and relax guys!
Over the next few days he found himself increasingly drawn to following the strange woman who had so invaded the sanctuary of his cave. She, for her part, continued to question the locals, but also spent a lot of time in the jungle both in and around his cave. He had a very strong feeling that the slight creature was a magnet for trouble, and so stayed close by during her forays into the leafy wilderness.
It was a good thing he did. On three separate occasions he was able to head off an attack, twice by local wildlife, and once the local gorillas. He had tried to keep the fights quick and silent, but there hadn't been much he could do when she stumbled upon the body of her would be attacker. After checking to see if the man was still alive, something it seemed she was unusually familiar with, she had looked around the jungle floor and scanned the trees. For a moment he had thought that she had seen him, but the dappled sunlight on his stained cloak hid him from all but the most observant eyes.
It was hard work, following the woman around, gathering food and supplies for himself, and still taking care of the villages. Some nights he even found himself unable to collapse beside his fire because the woman was already there, staked out, waiting for his return.
All things considered he should have been relived when he overheard the villagers saying that the woman was returning to her home. Instead, a pit of something took root in the emptiness that had plagued him since waking a lifetime ago. The thought of going back to his solitary existence haunted him. Not that he had ever instigated any interaction, he knew better than that, but for some reason her presence caused him to feel less alone.
The night before she was to depart he could find no rest. It felt as though he was poised, left in the middle of a fight, on the edge of the decision that would end the confrontation, one way or the. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.
It had been so clear before she came—he was supposed to protect, he was supposed to not be seen—and yet, he could not let the woman just disappear. He was torn between imperatives, lost in a void, adrift and without direction from his past. He couldn't let the feelings the woman stirred just drift away, and yet, he had responsibilities here. These people needed him, had come to depend on his protection. So why did he feel that his duty lay else ware? Was it with the woman? Perhaps. At least, he thought, she had something to do with it.
Though it was selfish of him, and potentially detrimental to all involved, he had decided that he would not let the woman leave him here. Not if it meant loosing even the slimmest chance of closing the hole in his chest. And he felt that, somehow, she could help him do that. Why was he so ashamed that he could not let that hope go?
Decision made he gave up on the idea of sleep, knowing that his time was short and he had a lot to do if he was going to be able to leave the villagers behind. He had to make sure that they would be safe, at least for a time. If not then all this meant nothing.
.o0o.o0o.o0o.
It was still dark as he made his way through the jungle brush and dense canopy. He had been keeping a fairly aerate record in his mind as to where the jungle bandits chose to make their camps. They were fairly settled, but did move camp occasionally, weather because they had drained that particular section of the jungle, or because he himself had caused one too many inconveniences at that particular location. Well, after tonight, they would no longer have to worry about the Ghost in the Jungle. They would be worrying about much at all.
There had been a line somewhere in his subconscious. A little voice that made him pull his punches whenever possible and try to redirect his strikes to less mortal points of the body; he used the backs of his blades almost as much as he used their razors edge. He told himself that it was to aid in his cause, that any man that he left alive to crawl back to their compatriots was a messenger for him, a way to spread the fear of the Ghost. But fear wasn't enough anymore, not without himself there to reinforce it.
Exhausted and soul weary he returned to his cave with wet hands and clean blades. No camps within a day's walk of his village would be stirring when the morning sun filtered through the leaves. Eventually someone would come looking for the men who were now gone. There wouldn't be much to find by then, just some deserted campsites all but reclaimed by the jungle's ravenous appetite—and the barest echoes of violence that would gradually blossom into gory horror stories about the Ghost and his thirsty blades. He wished that the truth was farther from the fiction.
He wanted little more than to lay his head down, warm his soul by his fire, and try to not dream—but there was no rest for the wicked. If what he had done that terrible night was to have any meaning then, he needed to be there when the woman left for her own village. And they would mean something, his actions; he could not let them be in vain.
.o0o.o0o.o0o.
He had cleaned out everything from the cave that could be easily carried and that he thought might be of use at the woman's village- wherever that might be. He had been forced to leave a lot behind, bringing little more than what he would normally carry on any day, pulse an extra supply of food, medicine, water, and a coil of rope across his chest. Hopefully the extra weapons, wood, and crude containers left behind would help the next lost soul- it was the least he could do.
Now he crouched in the branches over the road the woman would take out of the village, the same one that she had arrived on. As he waited for the woman to make her final goodbyes to the family that she had been staying with, he nervously fingered the smooth blue strip of material again, making sure that the trailing scrap was securely tied around his arm. It was a habit he had picked up and that had only intensified as time had gone by—he didn't feel right without it on his person, and the thought of leaving it behind now was too much.
When the woman finally climbed aboard her vehicle he followed her as best he could through the trees, but soon she picked up enough momentum that he was forced to drop onto the road and sprint a few steps before he could cling to the back of the truck. He kept himself low and was more than ready to take either to the trees or beneath the body of the metal shell.
The long night and dark work threatened to pull him from his tenuous grip on the woman's convenience. It was long past the time he would have stopped for midday meal, and though he had managed to slip some roots and cured meat into his mouth between jolts in the road, he was relived beyond words when the woman finally began to slow her vehicle down. Quickly leaping for the overhanging tree branches, he followed the road and the sounds of the rumbling engine from aloft until it and the woman emerged from the jungle into the largest clearing that he had ever seen.
He moved fast around the circumference, trying to keep the woman in sight, and though the sunlight glinting from her red hair helped, he knew that he would have to move closer if he was going to be able to follow her.
Sticking close to the shadows thrown by the structures and vehicles in the clearing, he took cover under a large metal protrusion (wing) while the woman entered a building with a rigid design (text) over the top of the door. It seemed forever before she emerged, but patience was a virtue he had perfected. When she did come out, two unfamiliar men came with her. They were not villagers, and did not move like militia, though the clothing they wore were almost identical (uniform). He readied himself for action if the men decided to make any threatening moves. Whether he would be able to get there in time was in as much doubt as his ability to find cover while doing so, but he figured that his decision had already been made. He had thrown in his lot with the woman, and he would see where it led even if that necessitated his showing himself to her. But only as a last resort.
Thankfully that desperate time had not yet come as the two men took subordinate positions to the woman and seemed to follow her instructions as the three maneuvered an impressively large wooden box (crate) from the confines of yet another structure set up on the field. He could not hear anything that was said between the three, but he could tell that the crate and its contence meant a great deal to the woman. The trio carefully wheeled the box towards him, and he ducked around to the other side of the supports (landing gear) and pressed his back into the round section (wheel) as the group pulled down a metal incline to his left and moved up into the apparently hollow shell above him. as soon as the three excited, the made for the opposite end that was encased in glass (cockpit) and set between two large blades (propellers). Unsure of just what was going to happen, he decided to trust his instinct and hurriedly slipped inside the rear compartment as the ramp slowly swung up. The crate that the woman cared so much for was inside, as well as several others. Everything was tightly tied down, and it did not take long for him to find out why.
An ominous humming and shaking started vibrating the metal around him, and then the entire building lurched, almost throwing him off of his feet with the unexpectedness of the action. He was not standing in a building, he realized, this was yet another type of vehicle (plane) and suddenly he had the feeling that this ride was going to get worse before it got better.
.o0o.o0o.o0o.
In between the jostling and the shaking of this new and most disturbing form of transportation, he was able to pry off a few of the boards from the lower portion of the woman's crate, enough for him to quietly slip between them. Inside the box he all but ran into the legs of a stone figure. With the angle and lack of light he could not see just what it was that loomed above him, but both it and the crate were well padded so he thankfully braced himself between the cool stone pillars.
The trip, as uncomfortable and disconcerting as it was, could not have lasted long. In the beginning there was a terrifying sensation of his organs being pulled through his bowls and left behind his body, but he relaxed somewhat after registering the lack of blood. Sometime afterward there was a reversal of the feeling, though not as intense, and an abrupt bounce as everything around him attempted to jump into the air before settling into a rattle that he recognized as wheels rumbling over not quite smooth ground. He took that as his que to pull up the last of the boards he had left open for air. He did so by untying the band of silk from his bicep and threading it around the final board and positing it so that the nails on the boards slid back into place when he pulled on the ends of the blue material.
No sooner had he had carefully retied the strip around his arm then the large door through which he had entered was opened. Though he could not see past the stone bulk of his companion, or through the wooden slats of his hiding place, he could hear the higher pitched arguing of the woman contrasting with the lower registers of a man. Beyond that there were sounds and smells that were wholly unfamiliar to him. He was struck by a sharp smell first, like the decay of an animal or a pool of water too long still, but beyond that he could hear the screeching of a bird his mind could not picture and the general hum of humanity, though it sounded as though a whole village was passing him by as he was slowly rolled down a ramp and towards an unknown location.
His avid straining of his ears was interrupted by an abrupt jerk as he and his silent companion were unceremoniously lifted from the ground and, swaying far too much for comfort, moved up and laterally across a wide distance. The belated anxiety of being contained and completely out of control hit him without warning and he was suddenly occupied not only with keeping his balance but with forcing himself to breathe and not kick down the wooden walls as well.
It was only after the crate stopped it's swaying with a solid thump inside of a large echoing place that smelt faintly of blood that he was able to think clearly and tune back into the sounds and voices around him. There was grunting and rough curses interspersed among the sounds of wood and metal being dragged over each other. He eventually recognized the familiar voice of the woman, soft and hard among the dull and blunt male voices. The conversation was impossible to hear in its entirety, but she seemed to be badgering the men into securing the crate in what she considered the 'proper' way. He wished he could see her, short and slight as she was still making her will felt, but no matter what he did, the slats were fitted too close. Strange then, that he could picture it so clearly.
At least, he thought as he settled between the stone pillars of his temporary home, the woman would not be leaving without this obviously much loved crate, and so would not leave without him. The thought was so unexpectedly comforting he found himself relaxing into sleep even as the men continued to bustle around his wooden haven.
A/N: So, there you have it. I'd love reviews if you guys have any comments because, honestly, this story is proving rather difficult. Regardless, I hope to post another update soon. For real this time. Till then!