Virginia rolled up her sleeping bag, tying it into a tight little bundle and stashing it safely next to her stuff. They were heading back to Jolly Roger today to claim their bounty, later to have a celebratory party at the Inn, something she really looked forward to. Gallows was doing all the work and Jet had gone off to find a convenient tree, so she sat beside her things in quiet meditation, thinking about the recent future.
Even though Jet often bossed them around and Clive's advice was highly looked up to, it was she who lead the group, their little gang, and had to predict and plan for their future endeavors. Stressing work, but it had to be done. The best bet they had for the chance of another commission probably lay in Little Twister, but the heat still hadn't died down from the 'misunderstanding' they had had at the Ark of Destiny, and the place was filled with honorless drifters eager to lock them away for the murder of Lamium, which was entirely not their fault.
There was a short rustling of grass, and Clive took a seat next to her, in order to stay out of the way of Gallows's packing. "Musing over the future?" He asked her quietly, his injured arm folded protectively across his stomach. The memory of the nightmare still plagued him, but like all nightmares, as time wore on, the disturbing impact of it's presence withered.
Virginia nodded sullenly. "I don't really know what to do." She admitted, hands folded in her lap. "Whenever I try to think about it, my understanding just gets fuzzier. Maybe I shouldn't be the one to lead this group. You or Jet, even Gallows could do better."
"Don't demean yourself as such." Clive replied, trying to cheer Virginia up, "You are only young. How long have you drifted thus far? Probably only a year or so, am I right?"
"Yeah, that's about it." She agreed, "But I don't get how that helps-"
Clive raised his right hand to silence her, smiling knowingly. "I have wandered Filgaia for almost as long as you have lived, Virginia. It is only natural that I have experienced more. Gallows is similar, to a lesser extent. And Jet," Clive felt a pang of empathy for the boy, "He may be younger than you are, but drifting is the only life he has known. Experience is the only way to gain the skills you need to survive in this wasteland, and the skills that you want can only be attained by leading us to our goal. In effect, the least qualified of us is the one we must set our hopes and dreams on, for only future prospects can take us over the horizon."
"So, you're saying this is the only way I'll learn?" Virginia questioned.
"That is exactly what I am saying." Answered Clive, adjusting his glasses. "If it is of any consolation to you, let me just say how much further along the track you have come in comparison to my efforts back then."
Virginia looked genuinely interested. "So, what were you like when you were eighteen?"
Clive suddenly felt much more awkward. "Ah, I do believe I spent most of that year either drunk or attending shameless parties in the midst of the night. I was part of a coterie with several outlandish liturgies and practices." He admitted this with a perfectly straight face, which forced Virginia to cover her mouth to smother away giggles, Clive's statement conjuring up several hilarious mental pictures. She supposed everyone went through unusual phases in their youth, but using Clive as an example was just too much for her to bear.
"And here I was thinking that you were born this way." She laughed, cheering up.
"Born what way?" He asked, one eyebrow raised, the rapping of his fingers on his almost empty canteen making a hollow noise.
Virginia immediately shut up. "I'm not saying anything." She smiled through clenched teeth. Jet decided to return to the campsite, swinging his boomerang around in a bored manner. He threw it once, and the tool came back, almost shaving Gallows's side in the process. The Baskar looked surprised for a moment, then shot Jet a glance that explained his thoughts far greater than words ever could have done
"Do you feel better?" Clive said, regarding Virginia's positive change in demeanor. Unconsciously, he tried to rub warmth back into his arm, getting no results.
"Yes," She said before frowning, bothered. "But you know, I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around."
"But I do not require it," He countered, smiling fondly, "You needn't fuss over me."
Gallows grabbed the stuff Virginia was sitting next to, tapping her on the shoulder. "We're leaving." He informed them, pointing to their waiting horses, geared up and ready to go. Clive stood up after a struggle, graciously extending his good hand to help Virginia up. She almost took it, but then brushed it aside, jumping to her feet without aid.
Clive took uneasy steps over to his horse, arms spaced slightly away from his sides to keep his balance. He felt clunky and uncoordinated, like he wasn't moving about in the way he was supposed to, it felt alien to him somehow. "Hasufel, come." He ordered, beckoning. The disobedient horse stood glued to the spot, refusing to move. He had its ears set back, as if alarmed by something. Looking annoyed, Clive beckoned again with a little more impetus. "Come, Hasufel."
Hasufel snorted warily, trotting a few steps away from his master, shaking his head from side to side. Clive grew tired of waiting for the animal so he treaded over to him, firmly grabbing a hold of his reigns and pulling it forward.
The horse whinnied in great distress, rearing up and throwing Clive to the ground, as he was still holding Hasufel's restraining equipment. He pranced around in a fit of unexplained hysteria before turning tail and fleeing from the group, dashing off as fast as he could run, away from the forest and his owner. Clive landed on his back and did not get up again, suppressing the urge to curse uncharacteristically. A ring of three companions surrounded the sniper and helped him to his feet, wondering what had gotten into the horse to make him throw his own master. Hasufel wasn't the most tamed of mounts, but still…
"I… seem to be getting hurt a lot recently." Murmured Clive, brushing grass off his coat.
"You sure spooked 'im, whatever it was you did." Said Jet, running a hand through his silver-coloured hair.
"I didn't do anything." Explained Clive, suddenly feeling wearied.
Gallows looked over the other horses. They too, appeared to be in some form of distress, glancing anxiously around the campsite and especially at Clive. Gallows took Stybba's reigns and gently led the horse over to Clive, Stybba's steps becoming even more tense as she drew closer to the sniper. "Hey, hold these please, Clive." Said Gallows, extending the reigns to his friend.
Stybba, upon seeing what was going to transpire, neighed fearfully and tried to tear herself away from Gallows's hands. However, the big Baskar's strength won through and with a little bit of calming on Virginia's part, Stybba became docile, although a bit unsettled and jumpy.
"That does it," Proclaimed Gallows, "You're definitely scaring the horses."
"How?" Asked Clive, "I am not doing anything…"
Moving to his own horse, Gallows patted the dark stallion with confidence, grinning in his trademark fashion. "Don't worry, Mearas won't run off, right buddy?" The horse looked uncertain, but continued to stand still. "You can ride with us, if you don't want to walk. I don't advise it, 'cause you're hurt…"
Clive nodded his thanks, setting his foot in the stirrup and feeling Mearas shudder from the contact. He frowned, but swung his weight onto the saddle anyway. Gallows quickly leant over near the horse's face and whispered a few incoherent words in the Baskarian tongue to him, calming Mearas down and allowing him to clamber on alongside Clive. Virginia and Jet mounted their own steeds, and they were set to go.
Arod decided to throw his master off, if anything for the stupefied look Jet offered him.
They set off into the morning sun, four drifters among three palfreys, a beautiful soothing breeze blowing back their hair as they rode with speed to Jolly Roger. Clive enjoyed the feel of the wind on his face, it was like it blew away all his troubles, his injury, the nightmare… Things would get better. He'd heal up fast and he concluded the awful dream had been the effect of his coma-like state, it was all over.
But he was very wrong.
It was just beginning.