"People are like bicycles. They can keep their balance only as long as they keep moving."
- Albert Einstein
Her feet hurt.
No, that was an understatement.
Her feet were on fire.
The thin leather boots she had nicked off a corpse chafed and rubbed in all the wrong places; the soles seemed nonexistent and the toe caps bit at her feet. Thoroughly repulsed with the idea robbing the dead, Kaz had taken the shoes from the first corpse she found that remotely resembled her basic stature. That, she had quickly realized, had been a mistake.
In addition, she had neglected to take with her the corpse's thick woolen socks. Despite the uncomfortable indications of annoying and unrelenting agony during their trek, Kaz couldn't bring herself to go back for them.
So she trudged onward, bearing her discomfort in grumpy silence. The heavy, stained sword that Palma had forced her to take bounced against her thigh. Every twenty steps she channeled her omnipotent dream powers to heal her aching feet. However, the pain just reappeared almost immediately. Heal. Walk. Chafe. Heal. Walk. Chafe. Heal. Walk. Chafe.
Though she tried all her might, Kaz just didn't understand why she couldn't summon a pair of tennis shoes. It was unfair.
Before she had realized the full extent of the misery her poor feet were to endure Kaz had taken time to observe the odd coterie she had been involuntarily lumped into. She had not had the time to truly inspect them earlier, as she had had pointy weapons aimed at her noggin.
The lot of them seemed to be of European descent, most of them tall with blonde hair, fair skin and blue eyes. Aldrich and Palma appeared to be the oldest-at around her dad's age-with flecks of gray in their hair and age lines crinkling their mouths and foreheads. The two farmers and Allard appeared to be younger; if Kaz were to fathom a guess she would place them about early-30s, late 20s. Like the others, their long golden hair reached down their backs and swished against their shoulder blades. It also appeared that none of the men had really heard of a razor blade, as they all sported full beards.
Clothilde looked to be about her age, her generous curves and long flaxen hair an evident indication of her femininity. She was so beautiful that Kaz could scarcely believe she was so shy and soft-spoken. She was one of those women that random strangers would not hesitate to whistle at while walking down the street. Kaz resisted the urge cross her arms over her chest in a sudden flash of self-consciousness.
Tranter and Juliet seemed to be the outliers in the group, their russet locks and olive-toned features a stark contrast to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed lot around them. Juliet had caught Kaz's eye as she studied the latter, and instead of turning away the girl had offered her a small smile, of which Kaz had returned before the latter had turned away.
It was a small gesture, nothing really, but Kaz regarded it with special significance. The members of the group-aside from Aldrich and Palma-had since treated her as though she were a wild beast. They eyed her with hesitance normally reserved for unpredictable animals and children and carefully maintained a certain distance between her and themselves. Kaz didn't blame them-though this world had oddities like raging orc beasts it very painstakingly clear there was no shred of modern customs, norms or amenities. Kaz's strange way of talking and her fashion sense, coupled with the fact that she was short, pink-haired, and hazel-eyed had apparently left their medieval stockings in a bunch. (Not that they yet knew she had pink hair; Kaz was careful to keep her beanie carefully arranged to disguise that fact. That was a can of worms she was not keen on opening just yet)
Juliet's small smile, however, had been ripe with empathy. Due to her darker hair and complexion Juliet must've understood what it felt like to be considered the odd one out due to appearances alone. Kaz would have loved to strike up a conversation with the girl, but she felt as though it'd be strangely inappropriate to simply prance up to her.
What would she say, anyway? Kaz understood next to nothing about this unsettling playground that her subconscious had concocted; all she could do was hang on and see where this bizarre world led her.
They made a strange little tribe.
Aldrich, of course, led the way up the river followed closely by Tompkin and one of the farmers, Rhett. Or maybe Warden? Kaz wasn't really looking all that closely when Palma had pointed them out earlier. Allard and the other farmer brought up the rear.
The women and children were sandwiched in the middle of the group. Tranter had begun to complain almost immediately so Clothilde had hoisted him up onto her shoulders. Palma and Kaz had offered to help carry the boy along the way, yet Clothilde merely blushed and stuttered and refused their help. She and her son seemed perfectly content within their own minds; Kaz could count on one hand the number of times she had heard either of them speak.
Juliet and Palma had talked quietly most of the way. Well, Palma had talked at Juliet most of the way. It seemed as though Palma had willingly stepped forward to shoulder the burden of matriarch in their little pack and she seemed determined to get Juliet to converse with her in an attempt at comfort. The latter could only manage half-hearted chuckles and small smiles, however. Kaz didn't blame Juliet. A real teenager would've been traumatized by the ordeal. Hell, this was Kaz's dream and she felt traumatized.
They had been walking for maybe an hour. The sight of the village had since faded into the distance, yet Kaz could still see dark plumes of smoke arcing into the clear sky.
It appeared that Upbourn had been nestled in a large, flat valley. Mountains rose up on either side of them, their peaks barely discernible in the morning haze. Though a few pine trees were scattered about the valley primarily consisted of tall, rough grass.
They were purposefully following the stretch of a large river northward, away from the mountains. Aldrich had directed the group to keep to the grassier banks of the river, following a worn path. Kaz had immediately noticed a myriad of deep-seated indents of horse hooves in the dirt.
It took her a moment to realize that Palma was speaking to her. Kaz looked up from glowering at her ill begotten footwear to focus on the older woman. Palma had slowed to fall in-step beside Kaz. Her face crinkled as she smiled at the latter, warm blue eyes regarding her with interest.
Kaz scrunched up her face in what she hoped was an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"You stare at your feet as though they pain you," Palma replied. It wasn't a question. Kaz, however, treated it like one.
"No, um… it's just…" Kaz trailed off, wracking her brain for an excuse. She didn't want to admit that her feet hurt for fear that one of the players in her dream would discover her omnipotent dream powers. Kaz didn't think they'd react positively to the news that they were simply figments of her imagination.
Palma's gaze, however, softened. "I understand. You regret taking the shoes because they belonged to deceased. Do not fret, child. I am sure she would have wanted you to have them."
Kaz merely stared disbelievingly at Palma. Like husband, like wife. Convincing this little gaggle of villagers continued to be embarrassingly easy, as they seem so ready to supply her with excuses for her odd behavior… excuses better than ones she could ever think of herself.
"…yeah."
Palma issued her a knowing smile before looking around, pointedly taking in their surroundings.
"So, child, you have never been to Rohan?"
Before Kaz could answer Palma had continued talking, seeming to already know the answer.
"We are in the valley of Harrowdale. The mountains surrounding us are the White Mountains. That great peak, you see there? That peak is called Irensaga. You can scarcely see them from here, but the others are Dwimorberg and Starkhorn," Palma's smile became rueful at that point, her eyes unfocused for a moment. "The people of Upbourn had always claimed that the three peaks were put there for a purpose—to protect the people of Harrowdale. I suppose that was foolish fantasy."
Kaz, knowing she'd never remember the strange names Palma had just uttered, nodded sympathetically. She awkwardly placed her hand on the other woman's shoulder, hoping that she came across as comforting. Kaz was never skilled at the art of consolation, often opting to escape the situation rather than endure the discomfiture she felt through the whole process. She did, however, remember how Palma had touched her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her back in the village. Kaz wanted these people to like her, after all. And to do that Kaz felt like she needed to show a little bit of feeling. Ugh.
"Where are we going, again?" Kaz asked gently in a poorly-disguised attempt to change the subject. Palma shot her a tearful, yet grateful, smile. Kaz was relieved that her attempt to comfort the other woman didn't come across as awkward as it felt.
"Edoras," Palma replied. Great, another name to add to my collection of gibberish. "It is the capital of Rohan. There are a few villages in Rohan, but Edoras is by far the largest."
"Have you not heard of the Eorlingas, or the Rohirrim? The great horse lords?" Aldrich suddenly bellowed from a few paces ahead. Kaz realized he and the other two men had since slowed their step to listen in to her and Palma's conversation.
At Kaz's blank look Tompkin spoke up, eyes gleaming with unsuppressed pride. "We are the Eorlingas, the horse lords. We are known across Middle Earth for our riding skill and valor; the ruler of Gondor gifted us these lands for our greatness. You should be wise to remember that, child!"
"Ah, Tompkin, did not Cirion reward Eorl with Rohan because we came to their rescue?" Aldrich stated, his smile broad.
Tompkin waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, but our greatness was nonetheless unrivaled… and continues to be!"
Careful, your head might pop, Kaz thought drily to herself.
Aldrich just laughed; a hearty, infectious chuckle that bubbled up from his gut. Kaz noticed that most of the group smiled involuntarily as his laugh rang across the grassy plains. Kaz found herself smiling as well.
"Yes the greatness of the Eorlingasis unparalleled, have no doubt! But what of this land, Chicago? What such place has women in men's hair and men's garb?"
Her smile dropped as nine pairs of eyes swiveled to stare at her. She forced herself not to fidget under the sudden attention.
"Some women have long hair and some wear dresses," Kaz shrugged. "But lots of women have short hair and wear pants too. It's not just for men."
"And do men wear dresses too?" Tompkin suddenly laughed. "Do they put ribbons in their hair?"
Yes, Kaz almost said but thought better of it. She had a feeling she wasn't going to like Tompkin much.
"Women used to only wear dresses and have long hair… but then we realized how stupid that was. I mean, why shouldn't women wear pants? Why shouldn't they cut their hair?" Kaz argued. She couldn't believe she was actually having this conversation.
Tompkin huffed in response, waving his hand as though the entire conversation was beneath him. "It is unnatural; it is simply not befitting for a woman to dress as a man."
"It's not befitting for you to act like a pompous asshat, but I'm not sitting here slingin' shit, am I?" Kaz replied crossly.
An ensemble of quiet gasps sounded from around her as Kaz became acutely aware that that probably hadn't been the best thing to have said.
If these stuffy, medieval sexists get their panties in a bunch about short-haired, pants-wearing women then they might have an aneurysm at one who cusses.
Tompkin stared at her in shock for a couple of beats before his expression morphed into one of annoyed anger. Warden/Rhett eyed her tensely. She could feel the twin stares of Allard and Warden/Rhett on the back of her neck. Palma and Clothilde looked horrified at her outburst. Juliet and Aldrich, however, seemed highly amused.
"Indeed, Klara," Aldrich laughed again, reaching up to clasp Tompkin on the shoulder before the latter had a chance to retort. "The women of the Chicagos are entitled to their own appearance. If that is their way, who are we to protest?"
Kaz had a feeling that she was going to really like Aldrich.
Tompkin muttered something unintelligible under his breath but made no further comment, dissuaded by Aldrich's not-so-subtle gesture. The tension eased from Kaz's frame, her adrenaline waning somewhat. Kaz was damned if she allowed herself to be lumped in a "barefoot and pregnant" category- even in her dreams-yet she wasn't too keen on becoming a martyr for her cause.
That aside, she sincerely wished Tompkin would just take a long walk off a short pier.
"So Klara, tell me about the Chicagos. It is on an island, that much you have said. The women have short hair, wear pants, and curse like dwarves. How large is the city? Do you have horses?" Aldrich continued. It was obvious he meant to steer the conversation into safer waters. It worked.
"The city is called Chicago," Kaz replied, mulling over her words carefully before speaking. "The… er… island is called Illinois. How large is it… um…"
A couple million people, she thought. She didn't think that's what Aldrich wanted to hear, though.
"… a couple hundred people. Not very many horses, though. Cats and dogs, I guess."
"I see. I suppose an island is no place for a horse. They need grasslands, like these," he replied, stretching out his arms for emphasis. "What of your people, child? Do they sing? Are they musicians? Are they warriors?"
Kaz had to take a moment to consider that one. She thought of the loud music belting out of car stereos as they passed by McCaffery's. "We have singers and musicians, a lot of them." She thought of the war overseas; the heated discussions her regular college students often got into about the topic. "We have warriors too."
Aldrich nodded, soaking up every word. "And what of you, child? What do you do?"
What did she do? Not an awful lot, actually. Kaz was a terrible singer and didn't have a musical bone in her body. She didn't go to school; she just worked as a waitress at a waffle shop and jumped around a bit in the park.
"I do gymnastics," she answered finally. At Aldrich's confused look Kaz knew she needed to elaborate.
"Gym-nash-tics? What is this?"
"Here, um… it's better that I just show you."
She then smiled and held out the sword to Palma, who seemed surprised but accepted it begrudgingly. Kaz stopped for a moment, planting her feet in the grass. She felt the little tribe of people come to a slow halt around her, nine pairs of eyes regarding her curiously. Kaz grounded herself, collecting her strength in preparation.
"Aldrich, we must not stop. We must make haste-" Tompkin immediately protested, his words faltering as Kaz suddenly launched herself in the air. She curled under in a neat backflip, landing solidly on her feet again.
Kaz glanced up at the gaggle of onlookers, completely unfazed. She nearly laughed at the simultaneous expressions of awestruck wonder that stared back at her. Kaz hadn't needed her omnipotent dream powers to do a standing backflip. She remembered back in high school when she used to do them in the hallways between class periods. The looks of shock and awe she had received were identical to the ones before her now.
"That is impressive!" Aldrich said after a couple of moments. The party casually resumed their trek through the grassland. Kaz received the heavy sword from Palma. "I can see how that kind of skill can be used in battle! Or do you perform?"
"She performs, Aldrich," Tompkin cut in irritably. He was obviously still sore from the exchange earlier. "A woman of her size and stature would be easily slain in battle."
Kaz narrowed her eyes at Tompkin. Yes, she was small. But hidden muscles from parkour and gymnastics graced her body. She was strong, and she knew it. Plus she was still a little peeved at Tompkin's blatant disregard for women. Okay, a lot peeved.
Of course, from previous experience Kaz knew she was no match for the creatures that had chased her in the village. She'd be cut in half. Yet her omnipotent dream powers gave her courage she'd never had otherwise. She could scale a 12' wall with just the power in her legs-why the hell couldn't she be a warrior, too? It was her dream.
"I did perform, but I am a warrior," Kaz replied lowly. "I am one of the best."
Tompkin actually snorted, turning his attention back to the road before him. "I weep for Chicago, then, if you are the best of its warriors," he scoffed.
Well, when you put it like that it does sound pretty stupid, she thought, a little embarrassed. Klara Zachary of Chicago, warrior princess. Right.
Kaz was, however, determined not to lose face in front of someone like Tompkin. Like she had told herself earlier, it was her dream. She could be whatever the hell she wanted.
Kaz crossed her arms and glowered at the back of his head, a menagerie of insults primed in her mind.
"I'm sure Klara is a fine warrior," Aldrich said, gazing at her with warm eyes and distracting her from lashing out at Tompkin. His words were kind, but Kaz had the distinct impression that he didn't believe her either. Clothilde and Tranter had stopped paying attention to the conversation at this point. Palma, like Aldrich, didn't appear to believe her either yet maintained a polite smile. Only Juliet assessed Kaz in rapt fascination, hanging onto every word. Juliet believed her; Kaz could see it in her face. Kaz smiled at her, glad to have an ally… even if her claims were a little hokey to begin with.
Not much was said after this, a comfortable silence coming over the group as they plodded along until nightfall. As the sun descended over the mountains a wintery chill settled on the valley, and Kaz found herself clutching at the remains of her hoodie to conserve warmth. She attempted to utilize her omnipotent dream powers to conjure up a little excess body heat but that endeavor proved to be just as fruitless as materializing a better pair of shoes.
The scenery hadn't been much to look at-once you've seen one hill of grass you've seen them all-so Kaz found herself refocusing her efforts in silently cursing her ill-fitting shoes to the fiery depths of hell. She had been strongly considering tossing them in the river when Aldrich's voice cut through her thoughts. Kaz looked up and squinted at his figure; only a smidgen of sunlight peeked over the peaks, making it difficult to distinguish faces in the gloom.
"We shall camp there for tonight," Aldrich had announced, gesturing towards a smattering of pine trees clustered a few yards away, farther from the river.
The group tromped after him obediently. Kaz's mind fretted; she wondered what the heck they were supposed to sleep on. She didn't see anyone grab any blankets or pillows on the way out.
Kaz quickly got her answer as, one by one, the members of her tribe stretched out flush on the rocky earth, curling up on makeshift beds of pine needles. Allard sat down near a tree and looked up just in time to catch the look on her face-likely one of poorly disguised horror-and smiled sympathetically.
"It's only for tonight; we'll be in Edoras by mid-morning," he assured her quietly. Kaz smiled in response and settled a few paces away from him, leaving him room to lay out his bow and quiver.
Oh yes, that's cold. The ground is super flippin' cold. And hard.
"Any chance we could maybe have a fire?" she asked him hopefully, though she already suspected the answer. Her shoes sucked and she felt like she hadn't brushed her teeth or washed her hair or clothes in two days. She had to pee but the grassland provided absolutely no cover to duck behind. It was cold and she had to sleep in the dirt. It only made sense that the lack of fire would be the cherry on top of the shit sundae. Kaz was beginning to think her "fun" dream was looking a bit more like mental purgatory.
"Not unless you want every orc within a hundred miles on top of us," Tompkin replied, voice ripe with acrimony. He turned then to discuss something quietly with Aldrich and Warden/Rhett.
No. No she didn't. But he didn't have to be an ass about it.
Yet Kaz was too tired to retort. It was far too much effort to expend energy on someone as intolerant as Tompkin. Besides, she wasn't too keen about the round of disapproving looks she was sure to get. Though slightly medieval and inherently backwards she was beginning to like these strange dream characters. Well, most of them. Well, four of them.
She simply shot a glare at the Tompkin-shaped figure in the rapidly approaching darkness and rolled over stiffly. Kaz quickly decided that any attempt at making herself comfortable on the frozen ground was futile. It was akin to trying to sleep on a chilly wooden board. With lumps.
So she just laid there, rocks and pine needles digging into her back as she gazed at the distant outline of the roaring river. Kaz stared until the darkness enveloped the group and all she could hear were the quiet, even breaths of the people around her and the faint roar of water against the rocks.
When Kaz awoke she could swear she still felt the harsh dig of the earth against her spine. It took her several moments of blinking dumbly at her ceiling to realize that she was, once again, in her bedroom.
She rubbed her eyes, pressing the curve of her palms against her eyelids as she recounted her latest adventure through her dreamscape. These dreams... they felt so real that Kaz could scarcely believe it. She could distinctly recall the smell of the grass and earth as they trekked upstream; the discomfort she felt as those ill-begotten shoes ate away at her feet.
Her feet.
Kaz remembered how she had healed her feet with her omnipotent dream powers, how the skin had knit itself together and left no trace of abuse. Unfortunately, that same luxury didn't extend to her in the real world. She had neglected to treat and bandage her feet before work and hadn't checked them before going to bed. Bracing herself for a grotesque sight, Kaz drew her knee to her chest to check on the status of her left foot.
"What. The. Actual. Fuck?"
Little pink, unmarred soles stared back at her. There was no scabs, no scars, nothing but a few wayward smudges of dried blood. There was nothing to indicate why Kaz had been limping and cursing throughout her entire shift. Kaz touched the bottom of her foot gingerly with the pad of her thumb, experimentally tracing its counters. There was no pain. Aside from some ingrained calluses from wandering around barefoot all the time, her feet were unharmed.
Kaz drew up her right foot to immediately check it as well.
Nothing, just a perfectly innocent foot.
"What. The. Fuck?" she repeated.
This was crazy. Nutty. Absolute-fucking-madness. Kaz was very certain she wasn't losing her mind, and there was no way in hell those cuts could have healed themselves in a matter of hours.
She remembered very clearly she had healed her feet in her dream. Could she of...?
Kaz immediately stopped that train of thought in its tracks. It was insane enough that her feet had healed themselves on their own... to imagine that her "dream" had been somehow realted to...
Stop, Kaz instructed herself firmly. This is fucking insane. There's a very weird but reasonable explanation to this.
She groaned and shifted her legs over the bed, planting her miraculously-repaired feet on the floorboards. Kaz frowned when her feet met something soft and squishy. She looked down and saw a blood-stained bed sheet riddled with bits of flour. It came back to her then-the dresser, the trap. Kaz looked around and determined that there weren't any incriminating white foot prints to be found. The dresser that she had pushed in front of her door remained in its original position.
It didn't appear that she had wandered off anywhere last night. Hooray for small miracles.
Kaz deftly stepped over her homemade trap, peeling off clothing as she lumbered into the adjoined bathroom. Though she had changed out of her waitress uniform before going to bed the smell of fry grease and waffles had clung to her hair and skin. Kaz had been working at McCaffery's for six years now, so while she was used to the stink she knew it wasn't exactly pleasant for those who had to smell her. Jay and Erik gave her shit about it whenever she stopped by without showering.
As Kaz stripped off her tanktop and let it drop to the floor, she noticed something in the bathroom mirror that caused her to come up short. She frowned at the red mark on her outer thigh. It reached around behind her, so she turned so her back faced the mirror. Kaz craned her head over one shoulder to catch a glimpse of her naked back, uttering a quiet gasp as she laid eyes on herself.
Red marks and indents littered the plane of her back. They were, however, quickly fading. Kaz touched them gently, astonished. The marks looked... they looked as though she had slept on rocks.
Though she knew it was ridiculous, Kaz leaned forward to peer out at her bed. No rocks, just a fluffy mattress.
"What. The. Fuck?" she whispered, aware that she was beginning to sound like a broken record.
When Kaz woke up this morning her feet had been mysteriously healed, as though her omnipotent dream powers extended into the scope of reality. The state of her back indicated that she had slept on a rocky terrain, as though she had truly fell asleep on the dirt beneath the pine trees in the valley of Harrowdale.
She turned back around, twisting on the faucet to splash water into her face. The shock of cool liquid sobered her, and afterward Kaz stared at her reflection with a mixture of wonder and apprehension. Water dripped from her nose and into the sink.
I'm going batshit crazy.