Hey again! So sorry I'm so slow. I had to indulge in a little period of self-pity at the lack of interest in my story, but I've gotten my pathetic little ass working again! Heh, so sorry, I know, I'm an ungrateful little bitch:). Will be good now.
p.s. Ya, ya, I get it: Longer Chapters!
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"Where are we going?"
It was the first word Maie had uttered-had dared to utter- since they had left. And that had been… a long time ago.
Long enough for her legs to cramp with stiffness, and long enough for her death hold on the companion's coarse, black hair to loosen in fatigue. Certainly long enough for her admiration of the dark, engulfing scenery to fade, and for it to seem, well, … engulfing.
There was no answer, and Maie wasn't quite brave enough to prod an answer. Instead, she continued clinging on and tried to be positive.
Tried.
The forest had grown steadily darker as the candlemarks flew by, not because the sunlight was fading, oh, no, the sun blazed higher yet. But a multitude of leaves wove a web of darkness overhead, trapping sunlight, trapping hope.
Even the birds had fled.
Maie had always loved birds, had always trusted birds. Birds had warned her when the annual white herald came trotting down. Birds had warned her when her horse had sneaked out of his paddock and into the notorious forest swamp. Birds had warned her when the neighbors had come to her hut to demand that her mother pay the money she'd owed them. Birds were always there for her.
And now they were gone.
Serious doubts began to settle in the back of her head, no matter how hard she tried to shake them off. A chill crept up her spine and she bit her lip to stop herself from voicing her doubts.
But she couldn't stop herself from thinking, and she couldn't stop herself from thinking those thoughts.
She wondered why Daëmor had not the slightest trace of sweat on him, for they had been galloping for candlemarks at least. She wondered when they could just stop.
But most of all, she wondered why she wasn't happy. Why she wasn't grateful. Her dream had come true. She was going to be a herald! She was going to be something special. She was going to be the best.
Maie lifted her chin and looked, really looked, around her. The forest green was of a darker shade than any leaf and blade of grass she had ever seen. It was almost black, even when lit by little trickles of light. The trees were gnarled, bent and twisted, stooping down threateningly. There was more mud than grass, more black than green,…
More doom than hope.
Beyond annoyed, she gave herself a little mental scream. She was with a Companion! Of course she had nothing to fear.
:The waystation is but a few meters away,: the dark, whispered mind-voice still never failed to startle Maie.
"Oh, um. . . okay. . ." Startled out of her thoughts, she glanced absentmindedly around her.
She couldn't see anything but tree after tree after tree.
where?"
:To the left:
Feeling incredibly stupid, she scrutinized the landscape to the left. Slowly, slowly, the outline of a building separated itself from the masses of green and brown and black.
That was a...waystation?
Hesitantly, she slipped off the Companion's blck, gritty back, locking her knees in a desperate attempt to not fall. Gritting her teeth, she hobbled slowly in search of a door.
Finding an old, rotting wooden door, and an even older wooden knob. She carefully let herself into the darkness which lay past it.
The first thing she noticed was the smell. The smell of dust and decay was strong enough to make her wish for the forest outside. Waves of the dust crashed into, above, around her, and hacking coughs soon echoed around throughout the cabin. Shielding her already stinging eyes, Maie quickly found a lamp. A little flame soon danced light in the dark gloom, and she hurriedly lit others before examining the room.
It was of good quality, when she looked past the dust. Feather blankets fell haphazardly on a massive bed. There was a bookshelf of varnished oak, though no more than half of it carried books. The books themselves were ancient, and were definately not for bedtime reading. There were supplies, foods that could be kept for years without spoiling, and clothes of the darkest ebony. The waystation was large, very large. Large enough to have a kitchen and bathing room and bedroom and stable. It should have been nice. It should have been very relieving to Maie. And maybe it would have been, but all the rooms were painted black, dark as nightfall, and no cold, winter breeze was needed in the cabin for it to feel cheerless. For all its comforts, it was as comfortless as the blackened forest outside.
Still, Maie squared her shoulders and forced a grin. There was a horse-companion- to be groomed and fed and watered, and then the dust to be rid of. And then, as her stomache growled noisily, food! Striding out the door again to Daëmor, she threw a careless, little smile.
"So, what's next?"
