Chapter Three: Oasis
A wave of guilt hit Bakura as he felt for a pulse. There was no pulse at his wrist, yet Bakura found a faint pulse on Yami's neck.
Glancing at the surroundings, Bakura noticed a large amount of blood on the chunks of nearby. Some was dry, but most of it was fresh. That left Bakura with only one option to the origin of the blood.
Bakura quickly flipped Yami over so that he was lying on his stomach. On the back of his upper right leg a cut ran from his knee to the top of Yami's thigh. Blood was continuing to ooze from the infected wound.
"Hey! I think he ran this way!" a voice shouted somewhere close to the two fugitives. Bakura could hear the Syrian accent rolled off the offender's tongue.
Quickly lifting Yami over his shoulder, he ran silently to get away. He found this difficult with a limp body over his shoulder.
Bakura found his way to the edge of the desert. Laying Yami down on the ledge, he raised his fingers to his mouth and whistled. A lone, eerie note echoed throughout the desert, carried far by the hot wind.
Out of the desert came a dusty stallion. He ran loyally to Bakura. Carefully, Bakura set Yami across the horse's back so that he was lying on his stomach. He climbed up behind Yami and looked back. There was no one watching them. Urging the horse into a gallop, the destroyed city of Thebes vanished rapidly behind them.
They rode for a while, the breeze ruffling Bakura's cloak. As the sun began to set in to the western horizon, Bakura pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted.
In front of him was an oasis. It wasn't very big, but for Bakura it was perfect. It backed up to a cliffside, so no one could sneak up on him. Bakura sighed and lifted Yami off the horse and carried him towards a small hole in the cliff.
"Ah, home sweet home," he muttered to no one in particular.
The hole turned out to be a small cave. A few well-worn blankets lay folded on a battered reed mat and a couple cracked dishes were stacked neatly in the corner. A small pile of loot was jumbled beside the mat.
Careful not to cause Yami any further pain, Bakura lightly set him down on the mat after shoving the blankets out of the way. Taking out one of the lesser wall hangings from his previous raids, Bakura walked back outside. Kneeling down beside to small, spring-fed pool, he sighed.
Could it actually be possible that Yami was the High Prince of Egypt? Bakura's mind twisted in awkward positions at this concept, it found arguments for every thought.
He seemed too gentle, too sincere to be the king's son. There's no way it could be possible!
While his mind screamed in silent fury, Bakura tore the hangings into even, thin strips. His mind still arguing, he plunged the strips into the crystal clear water.
Once Bakura had wrung the strips generally free of water, Bakura returned to Yami. Said prince had rolled over onto his side.
Making sure he didn't wake Yami up, Bakura gently washed around Yami's wound. It would definitely leave a scar. After all the dirt and blood had been removed, Bakura took new strips of cloth at wrapped them tightly around Yami's thigh.
Pleased with his skill, Bakura left the cave again to check his traps. In the few days he had been gone, all of his snares had caught something. A pair of pheasants, three desert hares and a small deer was the outcome. This pleased Bakura also.
There wasn't enough light left in the day to skin and cook all his trappings. Taking one of the hares, he skinned it and cut it up before the light had completely disappeared. As the twilight disappeared, Bakura had a fire snapping and sending dancing sparks up into the dark night sky. Using a small pot, he stewed the chunks of meat in to a bubbling broth consisting mostly of herbs.
Bakura poured a little bit of stew in one of the clay cups and carried it towards the cave for Yami. As he pushed back the rush door, he was met by Yami's piercing crimson stare. Seeing the look of confusion and surprise in Yami's eyes, Bakura concluded that he had just woken up.
"Are you hungry?" Bakura asked softly. His voice seemed to startle Yami.
"A little. But I'm more thirsty," he croaked, his voice barely audible. Bakura quietly set the cup by Yami's head, grabbed another cup and went to the spring to fill it.
Yami noiselessly took the cup of water Bakura offered and drained it. After some firm urgings, Yami ate most of the stew as well. His energy spent, Yami fell fast asleep, a steady, constant breathing rising from his lungs.
Reassured that Yami would live through the night, Bakura pulled a blanket over himself and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
The sun had just begun to rise when Yami woke. Rolling over, he noticed that Bakura wasn't in the cave. Yami persuaded his body to get up, stumbling over the pain in his right leg. He limped over to the cave entrance.
Bakura was sitting on the ground in front of a small fire, plucking feathers off of a pheasant. The other two hares and the deer lay already skinned on a piece of tent canvas.
Yami shuffled over to where Bakura was sitting and lowered himself to the ground beside the thief.
"What? Oh, Yami, you're up. I thought you wouldn't be able to walk for at least a week," Bakura stated. Yami yawned, moving his hand to cover his mouth.
"It hurts," he muttered. Bakura almost didn't hear what he said. A small sigh came from the injured boy as his head toppled sideways onto Bakura's shoulder. Bakura turned his head to ask what Yami thought he was doing to find Yami asleep. Chuckling to himself, Bakura eased Yami into his arms and carried him back to the reed mat.
Bakura finished cleaning his trappings and sat in the shade of a sheltering palm tree. The sun was merciless and the day was far from over.
Serving himself some of the leftover stew from the previous night, Bakura set his mind on one track. Yami. What was he going to do with him? His plans off disappearing back into the desert evaporated in front of his eyes. A yawn escaped Bakura's mouth.
Bakura's eyes drooped in the midday heat. He was almost asleep when he heard an awkward shuffling. Ignoring it, he settled back into his subconsciousness.
A thump and a stifled cry sounded out, but Bakura no longer registered anything outside his own mind.
Yami had woken up again and felt something missing. He wrapped the pale blanket around his body and stumbled outside. Looking around for that missing thing, his eyes fell on Bakura, resting with his back against a tall palm. Something fluttered in his brain.
He limped out towards Bakura, stumbling over small stones in the desert sand. He had almost reached Bakura when his foot clumsily struck a larger rock. He fell over, landing hard on his face. Whimpering, he crawled the rest of the distance to Bakura. As soon as his head hit Bakura's leg, he yawned and dropped back to sleep. Together they slept through the rest of the day and all through the night.
Dias: yawn This story is longer than I planned it to be. I thought I would end it in on book, but.....
Dark Dias: But you had to continue it and it moved into one of your replacement notebooks.
Dias: Shut up. I'm at 90 written pages, and who knows how many chapters. Enjoy and leave a review. Even if you didn't like it!
Dark Dias: Wow, 1329 words. That's a hell of a lot of typing.
Dias: Dark, I'm leaving. So shut up and go back to that little nook in my mind that you occupy. Oyasumi, minna!
A wave of guilt hit Bakura as he felt for a pulse. There was no pulse at his wrist, yet Bakura found a faint pulse on Yami's neck.
Glancing at the surroundings, Bakura noticed a large amount of blood on the chunks of nearby. Some was dry, but most of it was fresh. That left Bakura with only one option to the origin of the blood.
Bakura quickly flipped Yami over so that he was lying on his stomach. On the back of his upper right leg a cut ran from his knee to the top of Yami's thigh. Blood was continuing to ooze from the infected wound.
"Hey! I think he ran this way!" a voice shouted somewhere close to the two fugitives. Bakura could hear the Syrian accent rolled off the offender's tongue.
Quickly lifting Yami over his shoulder, he ran silently to get away. He found this difficult with a limp body over his shoulder.
Bakura found his way to the edge of the desert. Laying Yami down on the ledge, he raised his fingers to his mouth and whistled. A lone, eerie note echoed throughout the desert, carried far by the hot wind.
Out of the desert came a dusty stallion. He ran loyally to Bakura. Carefully, Bakura set Yami across the horse's back so that he was lying on his stomach. He climbed up behind Yami and looked back. There was no one watching them. Urging the horse into a gallop, the destroyed city of Thebes vanished rapidly behind them.
They rode for a while, the breeze ruffling Bakura's cloak. As the sun began to set in to the western horizon, Bakura pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted.
In front of him was an oasis. It wasn't very big, but for Bakura it was perfect. It backed up to a cliffside, so no one could sneak up on him. Bakura sighed and lifted Yami off the horse and carried him towards a small hole in the cliff.
"Ah, home sweet home," he muttered to no one in particular.
The hole turned out to be a small cave. A few well-worn blankets lay folded on a battered reed mat and a couple cracked dishes were stacked neatly in the corner. A small pile of loot was jumbled beside the mat.
Careful not to cause Yami any further pain, Bakura lightly set him down on the mat after shoving the blankets out of the way. Taking out one of the lesser wall hangings from his previous raids, Bakura walked back outside. Kneeling down beside to small, spring-fed pool, he sighed.
Could it actually be possible that Yami was the High Prince of Egypt? Bakura's mind twisted in awkward positions at this concept, it found arguments for every thought.
He seemed too gentle, too sincere to be the king's son. There's no way it could be possible!
While his mind screamed in silent fury, Bakura tore the hangings into even, thin strips. His mind still arguing, he plunged the strips into the crystal clear water.
Once Bakura had wrung the strips generally free of water, Bakura returned to Yami. Said prince had rolled over onto his side.
Making sure he didn't wake Yami up, Bakura gently washed around Yami's wound. It would definitely leave a scar. After all the dirt and blood had been removed, Bakura took new strips of cloth at wrapped them tightly around Yami's thigh.
Pleased with his skill, Bakura left the cave again to check his traps. In the few days he had been gone, all of his snares had caught something. A pair of pheasants, three desert hares and a small deer was the outcome. This pleased Bakura also.
There wasn't enough light left in the day to skin and cook all his trappings. Taking one of the hares, he skinned it and cut it up before the light had completely disappeared. As the twilight disappeared, Bakura had a fire snapping and sending dancing sparks up into the dark night sky. Using a small pot, he stewed the chunks of meat in to a bubbling broth consisting mostly of herbs.
Bakura poured a little bit of stew in one of the clay cups and carried it towards the cave for Yami. As he pushed back the rush door, he was met by Yami's piercing crimson stare. Seeing the look of confusion and surprise in Yami's eyes, Bakura concluded that he had just woken up.
"Are you hungry?" Bakura asked softly. His voice seemed to startle Yami.
"A little. But I'm more thirsty," he croaked, his voice barely audible. Bakura quietly set the cup by Yami's head, grabbed another cup and went to the spring to fill it.
Yami noiselessly took the cup of water Bakura offered and drained it. After some firm urgings, Yami ate most of the stew as well. His energy spent, Yami fell fast asleep, a steady, constant breathing rising from his lungs.
Reassured that Yami would live through the night, Bakura pulled a blanket over himself and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
The sun had just begun to rise when Yami woke. Rolling over, he noticed that Bakura wasn't in the cave. Yami persuaded his body to get up, stumbling over the pain in his right leg. He limped over to the cave entrance.
Bakura was sitting on the ground in front of a small fire, plucking feathers off of a pheasant. The other two hares and the deer lay already skinned on a piece of tent canvas.
Yami shuffled over to where Bakura was sitting and lowered himself to the ground beside the thief.
"What? Oh, Yami, you're up. I thought you wouldn't be able to walk for at least a week," Bakura stated. Yami yawned, moving his hand to cover his mouth.
"It hurts," he muttered. Bakura almost didn't hear what he said. A small sigh came from the injured boy as his head toppled sideways onto Bakura's shoulder. Bakura turned his head to ask what Yami thought he was doing to find Yami asleep. Chuckling to himself, Bakura eased Yami into his arms and carried him back to the reed mat.
Bakura finished cleaning his trappings and sat in the shade of a sheltering palm tree. The sun was merciless and the day was far from over.
Serving himself some of the leftover stew from the previous night, Bakura set his mind on one track. Yami. What was he going to do with him? His plans off disappearing back into the desert evaporated in front of his eyes. A yawn escaped Bakura's mouth.
Bakura's eyes drooped in the midday heat. He was almost asleep when he heard an awkward shuffling. Ignoring it, he settled back into his subconsciousness.
A thump and a stifled cry sounded out, but Bakura no longer registered anything outside his own mind.
Yami had woken up again and felt something missing. He wrapped the pale blanket around his body and stumbled outside. Looking around for that missing thing, his eyes fell on Bakura, resting with his back against a tall palm. Something fluttered in his brain.
He limped out towards Bakura, stumbling over small stones in the desert sand. He had almost reached Bakura when his foot clumsily struck a larger rock. He fell over, landing hard on his face. Whimpering, he crawled the rest of the distance to Bakura. As soon as his head hit Bakura's leg, he yawned and dropped back to sleep. Together they slept through the rest of the day and all through the night.
Dias: yawn This story is longer than I planned it to be. I thought I would end it in on book, but.....
Dark Dias: But you had to continue it and it moved into one of your replacement notebooks.
Dias: Shut up. I'm at 90 written pages, and who knows how many chapters. Enjoy and leave a review. Even if you didn't like it!
Dark Dias: Wow, 1329 words. That's a hell of a lot of typing.
Dias: Dark, I'm leaving. So shut up and go back to that little nook in my mind that you occupy. Oyasumi, minna!