Disclaimer: I do not own.
A/N: Honor finally makes it to the Savage Land. You may or may not be familiar with Marvel's version, so you may or may not recognize how different mine is. It's the same concept – "the land that time forgot" – but in this story, I focus more on the people and their day-to-day lives instead of clan feuds and dinosaurs. A lot of the details come from my knowledge of pagan lifestyles during Rome's occupation of Britain… Think 'King Arthur' or 'The Mists of Avalon', minus the robes! Enjoy.
Savage Land
Chapter Two: Prophecies Fulfilled
I awoke feeling immediately damp and overheated. Rising from my sweat puddle, I pulled at the bed clothes clinging to my skin. Had the air conditioner gone out? I lifted my hair away from my neck and face to bring cool air to my skin. Suddenly, I realized I was in terrible danger.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw I was not in my bedroom. This room had a strange pink tint, and was filled with organic materials: fur rugs and clay jars and log beams. The door opened, letting sunlight in. I saw now that I was in an enormous tent which appeared to be made of animal hide. The floor was hard-packed dirt and held little furniture. Besides the fur rug that held me, I spotted three rolled-up blankets, a clay pot of water and five wooden bowls. The man who had spied me closed the door, and then reappeared with two others. They were gigantic with hardened bodies and scarred skin. Their clothes were unimaginative and basic: skirts made of sea otter fur and necklaces made of the teeth. With them, they carried spears longer than they were tall.
I pulled myself into a ball, trying to cover myself. I had worn cotton shorts and a silk tank-top to bed. I was decent, but barely. I would never have worn this outside my own house, and I was horrified by the situation.
They, however, didn't seem to notice or care.
"Who are you?" The oldest among them demanded. "Where did you come from?"
His voice was harsh and unmoving. I'd hate to be on the other end of his spear.
"H-Honor," I whispered. "From Poughkeepsie… New York… The States? Where am I?"
"The Poughkeepsie tribe?" A different man asked. There was a pause before he added, "From the Southlands?"
"No! I – I…. Please tell me where I am!"
"I found you in the wetlands," The old man said. "We are of the tribe Hezbak. By our laws, you are now my property. If your clansmen are our allies, they may buy you back. But if you are sent by the Vernillies, we will divide your body into twelve pieces and send it down the river."
Terrified, confused, and in no mood to further expose my ignorance, my precognitive notions took over. I learned that I was very, very far from home. In fact, I could not even feel my parents' spirits. I was either on another planet or they were dead. My captors/rescuers lived in an isolated jungle populated by dozens of tribes and hundreds of alien species. The history of the people soared through my mind like a previous life. I dodged the visions and discarded the information until I reached the Hezbaki records. These people were hunter/gatherers who dwelled in the Highlands. Generations ago, they'd settled a plateau that served to protect them well. They lived here still. While foreigners and aliens had visited many of the other tribes, the Hezbakis remained isolated from any outside influence.
That all changed with the arrival of Seraphina. Beautiful and enchanting, the sorceress quickly caught the eye of the chief. She bore him a son, and aspired for him to claim his father's throne. Unfortunately for her, the chief already had an heir. As long as he was married to the heir's mother, Seraphina was powerless. She bewitched the chief, and had him slay his wife. The clan was torn apart by his actions. They cried out for blood. In the dead of night, a mob slaughtered the chief, Seraphina and their son. The chief and child were granted a quick death, but the witch was burned alive. Before the smoke smothered her soul, she placed a curse on her murderers: no Hezbaki seed should take life. It had been five years since that night, and no child had been born to their tribe since. The Hezbakis bought female slaves, but they bore no children, either. They'd made the proper sacrifices; even giving human lives. No amount of blood or tears would lift the curse. Their culture was dying.
Now I understood. The unborn souls in my dream had chosen the Hezbakis as their parents, but because of the barrier they couldn't be born. They brought me here to help.
But if I were going to be any help, I needed to act quickly.
"I'm no spy," I told the men. "I've heard your prayers, and I've come to help you. I could tell you who I am and where I came from… but you wouldn't understand. Just know that I've seen the faces of your unborn children, and they brought me here."
There was a palpable silence. I resisted the urge to wipe away the sweat on my nose. I didn't want to appear nervous; Logan always said not to blink when staring down a wolf.
"Fetch Purnanada," the oldest man said.
One of the others left, taking the tension with him.
The younger man, the silent one, brought me a cup of water. I accepted with a pleasant smile. By the time I finished, the man had returned with a woman. She, too, was intimidating. Tall and strong legs supported wide hips which were fully exposed. Her "dress" consisted of grey silk spun as heavily as rope. The attire hung over her shoulders like a long vest, and she tied off her waist with a black leather belt. Her jewelry was of a higher class, too. Both wrists and ankles wore precious stones, and her head bore a crown of pearls.
I stood: unfazed by my immodesty and the heavy silence. Just as before, I met her gaze without weakness. I knew this woman was the High Priestess: second in power only to the chief. She had the power to declare me valuable or send me to my death.
"I have heard your prayers," I said evenly, "And I've come to break the curse."
The surveillance cameras showed Honor climbing out of bed a few minutes after midnight. She went out her bed room window, across the yard and into the surrounding forest. From there, the trail went cold. Her mannerisms implied that she was sleepwalking rather than under some form of mind control. But if she were sleepwalking, her parents should have found her asleep in the woods. Instead, she appeared to have vanished into thin air.
After Remy discovered her missing at 3:00 a.m., he began a silent search of the house and grounds. By dawn, he had to tell Belle and the kiddies that she was gone. He'd never known such blind panic. Was she hurt? Kidnapped? Dead? Best case scenario: she was lost and scared.
Under this sort of stress – the kind he could do nothing to alleviate – he was worse than useless. He was snapping at the kids, chain smoking, and retracing the same dead-end steps while hoping for a new result. In a moment of clarity, he turned to his co-workers, old connections and even the law for help. Emma immediately turned to Cerebra and began a search for Honor's energy patterns. She began with the house in Poughkeepsie and spread out in a circular rotation. Given the time and distance that Honor could have traveled by foot, Emma discovered nothing. Honor was either dead or traveling by vehicle. With a car, she could have reached the air port, harbor or bus station by now. She could've been anywhere.
The following day, an old acquaintance turned up a lead, but it was not the sort they wanted. A "Jane Doe" turned up in the morgue the same day Honor disappeared. Although she matched his daughter's description, the girl wasn't his.
Remy was relieved and frustrated at the same time.
Where the hell was she?
Purnanada brought me to the temple, where I would be judged by all the priestesses. There were seven women total, all wearing similar dresses.
Only the High Priestess wore the crown of pearls, but the youngest girl wore a wooden circlet. She was Laska, the High Priestess's heir. The two shared the same legs and hips, and had similar ashy blond hair. I wondered at their relation, but never detected a strong connection. Laska was only two years older than I, and by far the most curious about me.
"What do they call you?" She asked while invading my personal space.
"Honor."
"Ah – Ah-nar? Where do you come from?"
"I live in New York, but I'm originally from Nawlins. Sorry, New Orleans."
She gave a tickled giggle. "Nawlins!"
Rahar was second in the temple and royal by birth. I knew Purnanada trusted her above all others. Below these women were cousins: Oxxanya, Qioana and Eait. I only knew they were related because they all shared the same beautiful auburn hair. Qioana and Eait were enormous, as most Hezbakis tended to be. But Oxxanya was petite and proudly so. She liked to brag about her ability to ride any animal without tiring the beast. Kyra was the newest Sister, and had taken a vow of silence. In truth, she hated the Holy Ways, and held her tongue as a way to keep her secrets.
I would need all these pieces if I were going to succeed.
Fourteen eyes watched me enter the temple. They thought I didn't realize that they were surveying my strange clothes, observing my walk, and weighing my worth. They waited for me to take the temple throne: the chair left ever-vacant except for by the Goddess. They waited for a sign or misstep.
I wouldn't give it to them.
Keeping a respectful distance from the throne, I said: "I know I'm not what you expected. You value strength and endurance. Where I come from, we value humility and modesty. I humbly believe that I have been placed here to break Seraphina's curse on the Hezbakis. I will do everything within my power to help you survive."
The High Priestess slowly approached me. I could hear her words before she spoke them: "We have a prophecy… When the summer fever breaks, the blue dragon comes on swift winds."
I almost couldn't breathe. Before my opportunity slipped away, I finished the prophecy: "'The white devil with red eyes resurrects the Old Kingdom, and evil things are passed away.' I have heard this prophecy all my life, but I never knew…"
Overcome by emotion, my voice locked.
The priestesses dropped to their knees, and I felt a chill run over me.
Truly, was this my destiny?
Word spread like flames on gasoline about my arrival. The Hezbakis couldn't do enough to please me: I was housed in the temple, giving fresh clothes, and ate the best foods with the highest authorities. I was asked my opinion on every topic, no matter how trivial. I was even given Laska as my personal servant. At first, I declined. My parents taught me the value of hard work and independence, and I meant to be a noble example to these brutes. But then I discovered just how much work went into drawing a warm bath, preparing a meal and washing clothes in a river. I decided to keep her around for companionship.
My first night away from home was the hardest. My eyes never closed. I watched the moon rise, the stars move across the sky, and the sun rise. Then I rose and returned to work, wishing I could silence my thoughts and calm my soul. Dawn brought a bustle of activity. On this plateau, work was never done. Tents needed mended, children needed lessons, and wells needed drained. With horses, domesticated wolves, wild game, and more than a hundred people, there was no shortage of hungry mouths. Summer was dying, which meant the crops needed harvesting. Meats were salted and trees chopped in preparation of the winter months.
During my own activities, I noticed the harvest preoccupied most everyone for most of the day. I could watch them with hunched backs and distant eyes moving through the fields. I did not envy them.
Luckily, I was kept with the priestesses inside the temple. Now that I had been shown proper due as a deity, they were ready for me to work. I wouldn't have to carry buckets of water and weed the fields. My task was much more difficult.
I needed to make a baby.
"Tell us how to help," Laska said brightly while lighting the temple candles.
"I doubt there is much we could do," Oxxanya responded for me. "Unless the goddess becomes a god in bed."
The tiny woman had a sinister twinkle in her brown eyes. Of all the priestesses, she was the most daring with her humor, but even she wouldn't attempt to jest around Purnanada. As was her morning ritual, the High Priestess was at the river, praying to the god of fertility. The rest of us took the opportunity to enjoy ourselves.
"If I'm going to break the curse," I said, "I'll need to know exactly what Seraphina said. I saw her in a dream, but I can't remember-"
"You who think to slay me shall die with me," Rahar provided. "You take my life, but I take your soul. From this night forward, no Hezbaki seed shall breathe life or take to the womb. To avenge my son, I take yours."
I felt sharp, burning sensations prick my arms and neck at her words. Even after so much time, the curse still held power. I pitied the Hezbakis: I would have killed her, too.
"We've tried everything," said Oxxanya, "We've bought slaves, even though that would weaken the blood. We made sacrifices to appease her wicked spirit. We've pleaded and pleaded with the gods. Praise you for coming to save us!"
I told them, "I don't know what I'm going to do yet… But I was chosen for a reason. I won't leave until I've helped."
Their faces brightened, and Laska said: "It's no accident that you're here now! Beltane begins in six nights, and there will be an eruption of conceptions. Whatever the puzzle, you'll solve it by then."
"There's no puzzle," Purnanada's chilly voice interrupted.
The others quickly dropped to one knee and rose again: a gesture of subordination.
"Ah-nar is the goddess of fertility. She will lay with the god and produce a child."
"Does a god walk among the Hezbakis?" I responded just as coldly. "Why hasn't he spoken sooner? If there is no other deity, a mere mortal must suffice. There is the matter of whom, when and where. If you'd be so kind as to provide more instructions, I'll know where not to look."
She gave me a dangerous look and said very slowly: "Careful."
I addressed the room at large as though I hadn't heard her.
"I require some time to pray. Please leave me."
Reluctantly, they obliged.
Indeed, I did need prayer. It had become apparent to me that Seraphina's curse was not on the Hezbakis, but rather the Hezbaki men. The women could marry into other tribes and bare their children perfectly well. However, that would destroy the Hezbaki culture as surely as infertility. These people didn't want to merely survive; they wanted to preserve their lifestyle. Barbaric and brutal as they were, this tribe was unique in many ways. For one, they dwelled in an isolated jungle. Secondly, they were isolated even within the remote nation. They engaged in slavery, human sacrifice and pagan worship: all things I found revolting. But these horrible things had helped them survive. Who was I to judge them for it?
These people weren't entirely bad. For starters, they could have left me for dead when they found me. When I spoke of hearing prayers, they could have ignored me and sold me off. When I claimed to possess the power necessary to break the curse, they could have raped me until I died. But instead they helped me at every opportunity. Now I realized that I couldn't help them at all. If they discovered that secret, they'd surely burn me as a false prophet. I couldn't even offer them wisdom because Oxxanya had known the truth from the very beginning. No woman could break the curse. But I knew someone who could.
Remy didn't rest at all the first two nights that Honor was missing. The third night, after he discovered she wasn't in the morgue, he plummeted into tortured sleep. He awoke every ten minutes, and when he did sleep, he heard her calling for him. She needed him. She needed his help.
I was glad I didn't have to marry a Hezbaki man, but I didn't want to breed with them, either. Many bad manners I'm willing to tolerate from an acquaintance but not a lover. Some of the men were slightly attractive, but had arrogance or wickedness to counter it. Over the course of two days and six meals, I'd been subjected to (and rejected) them all. Purnanada told me that my standards were too high. These men were not the gods I was accustomed to, and I'd feel better knowing less about them. She wanted to choose my mate. I overruled her by stating that only one man was worthy of me. In the entire tribe, just one man could break the curse with his seed and my womb. I claimed that I would recognize him by a sign: some sacred act that would set him apart. But none of these losers fit the bill.
"Perhaps he is a hunter," Laska offered, bubbly as always.
"Ah, of course," the High Priestess conceded. "Our hunters are participating in the Yen of Yore celebrations. They should return in a night or two."
"Yen of Yore?" I asked.
Laska said: "The traditional hunting of the white stag: to commemorate the Yen who first lead our ancestors to this plateau. Of course, they never find him, but they have a good time looking!"
"Silly, perhaps," said Purnanada drily, "But the men enjoy it."
This would buy me more time, but time was in short supply. I was trying to reach my father the only way I could – through our dreams. Unfortunately, a dream doesn't convey a message, but rather a single feeling. My feeling was clearly: "help!" The details as to how, when and where were the details in his dream: the clothes I wore, the color of the sky, etc. Since he was never trained in vision interpretation, he didn't know what to look for or what the clues meant. He might not even remember the dream. Mystique could help him, but it'd be a cold day in hell before he asked her for help.
If he didn't arrive in time, I'd need another excuse to stall. I used my powers to seek out the hunters.
Twelve men ranging in age from seventeen to forty-eight traveled the outside forest. These men were hunters: skilled at tracking and marksmanship. In the caste system, they were on par with the farmers. They were beneath the royals, warriors and priestesses, but above the artisans and slaves. This band was no more kind or unkind than the rest of the Hezbakis. I discovered that they were all married except for three. (Marital status was irrelevant to the Hezbakis, but it meant a great deal to me.) Rajzi was the youngest. At seventeen, he was already considered a man. He had his heart set on a farmer's daughter, who was still too young to marry. Blstone had recently lost his wife to a blood disease. Caradoc was handsome, strong and good-humored. For some reason, the tribe thought him bad luck.
I watched them for a while as they rode through a forgotten trail. They set up camp just outside the village. If they'd pressed on, they could have reached the village by nightfall, but they were looking to extend their venture.
Lucky me.
"Gorvy, Killian – string up those tents," the commander instructed. "Cromenbold and Tritus, get a fire going. Rajzi, Ori, Trev! You three guard our bounty. Last thing we need is for a pack of wolves to rob us blind. Lantis, Peter and Sorvecus: secure the area."
The group dispersed to their assignments. Only the commander and Caradoc were left in the original area.
"My orders, uncle?" Caradoc asked brightly. "I could see to the horses or clean the weapons."
"No…" The man said wearily. His eyes darted about as if being threatened. Finally, he seemed to notice a way out of this dangerous predicament. "There's a river not far from here. Gather some fish for supper."
"Right away!"
Caradoc left his uncle's side to search a cart. Once he finally found the fishing net, he gathered it into his arms and sprinted to the river. In his haste, he didn't see a corner of the net drop and get caught on the cart arm. He was moving with so much force that the net tore and the cart broke. Supplies, weapons and food all spilled onto the forest floor. The loud snap of the wood startled the horses, and half of them bolted into the forest.
Twenty-two livid eyes slowly turned on Caradoc.
"You stupid! Clumsy! Cursed son of a bitch!" Trev exploded at him. "You carry your misfortune everywhere you go! Why don't you do us all a favor and throw yourself off a cliff!"
"That's enough," his uncle defended. "Let's fetch the horses and clean this mess up. Trev, see if you can mend that net before nightfall. And Caradoc… you go to the village. Tell them we'll return in the morning."
I couldn't bear to watch his humiliation anymore. Just as I was about to pull my eyes away, the poor soul looked right at me and said: "Goddess?"
I sucked my soul back to its body, which was waiting in the temple. My heart hammered against my chest. There was no way he could see me. I wasn't even there! No, he must've seen something else: something behind me… Unless he had some special gift of Sight, too.
"Thanks again for takin' them, Momma," Rogue said after she'd buckled the little ones into their car seats. It was about the most ridiculous sight imaginable: Mystique – deadly assassin and expert traitor – with her car full of toddlers. Of course, the kiddies didn't know her as a murderer and con-artist. They only knew her as grandma.
Since Honor's disappearance, the parents (including Rogue) had ping-ponged between rage and desperation. The kiddies didn't need to be around that sort of instability. Security was another reason to send them away. No one knew if Honor had left or been kidnapped. If she had been taken, the abductor might come back. Still… Mystique? Was that a wise candidate? Rogue hoped she wasn't losing her mind. Belle had entrusted the woman with her child many times before. On this matter, Remy deferred to Rogue's judgment. But those two didn't know Mystique like Rogue did. Mystique was never to be trusted. Her loyalties were too mercurial.
As Rogue stepped away from the children's hearing range, she whispered: "If someone's paying you, Ah can double it."
"What?"
"Triple."
"I do not appreciate your insinuation. You called me."
"Ah know you'd drive them off the bridge if you thought it'd break me and Remy up."
"I'd like to drive him off a bridge. But that no-good swamp rat probably has a brother who'd sweep you off your feet."
Mystique returned to her car and put her head inside the back window.
"Are we ready to rock?"
"Yeah!" the three toddlers chorused.
"Was that the wind I heard?"
"YEAH!"
"What are the rules?"
"No kicking the seat," Ollie said.
"No screaming in the house," said Becca.
"No get hurt," signed Hero, who was sandwiched in the middle.
"What happens if you break a rule?"
The three little ones made guns out of their hands and started firing at each other.
"Very good!" She closed the door, but Rogue could still hear them firing their "weapons". Ollie caught his mother's eye, aimed and fired at her. She waved good-bye to them as Mystique took her seat and drove away. Even after all the good-byes, it still stung a little to watch them leave.
Mystique felt her blood pressure rising as time progressed. Those little bastards just wouldn't shut up with their questions and stories. She loved them, but she'd love them more if they were quiet. Half the time, she couldn't understand what they were saying. That damn Cajun had completely polluted their vocabulary. Even the questions she understood, she couldn't answer.
"Where's Sissy?"
"When's she comin' home?"
"Why can't I see her?"
No wonder their parents needed a break.
"I had a dream about her," Becca said nonchalantly.
"Who?" Mystique glanced in the back mirror. "Honor?"
"Yeah. She was… on dis t'ing, in de air. And she said: 'Help me! Help me!' Yeah. Dat's what happened."
Mystique drove over the grass median and into the other lane of traffic, which carried her back to Poughkeepsie. All the while, the little ones held to their car seats and cried with glee that they'd all die a fiery death.
If I'd been thinking clearly, I would have kept my vision secret. I should have put the hunters through an impossible test, and helped Caradoc to win. That way, I'd have days without Purnanada's pressures to copulate. Unfortunately, I was young and still inexperienced in the games of politics. I told Laska, expecting her to keep my confidence. I was so excited and eager to meet Caradoc that I couldn't contain my news. She shared in my joy. With burning cheeks, she said he was the son of the High Priestess and the former chief. His parents came together one night during Beltane for his conception. Caradoc was one of many children spawned by the former chief, and like the others, poor Caradoc had long been over-shadowed by his father.
"I am sorry, Ah-nar," said Laska, "But I don't know anything else about him. I've never seen him with a lover or companion. I can ask Purnanada, if it pleases you."
"No, thank you," I blushed.
"Ah-nar… I have seen the way you pull at your dress. It's obvious to all of us that you are accustomed to more coverage. During my own time, I made this for you."
She presented me with a leather coat dyed purple. The cuffs and hem were lined with turquoise stones, and the collar was lined with rabbit's fur.
"Oh, Laska!" I sighed, "I love it!"
I meant it. The stitching wasn't invisible, the color wasn't smooth, and the stones weren't even – but I loved my coat. I wouldn't have changed anything about it. When I wore it, the sleeves covered half my thumbs and the hem reached my knees. Laska complained that she made everything too long, but again I insisted that I loved it. No one had ever hand-made an outfit for me before.
My gratitude crashed and burned with fury when I found out my new friend shared my secret with Purnanada. The more the High Priestess knew about me, the more I was at her disposal.
"I am shocked and grateful that you would choose my son," Purnanada told me. "I never saw much appeal in him myself. He is particularly lacking in spiritual strength… But I suppose it is only just that he should break his father's curse."
The room was full with others – priestesses, slaves and the chief's family. Purnanada never spoke to anyone directly, but to the room at large. I took great pleasure in reminding her that the divine ways are mysterious. No sooner had the words left my mouth when the door opened. A slave entered with Caradoc.
"High Priestess," the slave said in a deep, reverberating voice, "Your son."
"Mother? What is-?"
Suddenly, without provocation, a candelabrum fell across Caradoc's path. The weak flame held tightly to its wick, and then leapt to the fur rug it landed on. Servants rushed to wet the fire, and then scurried to clean the mess. The room in general sighed and marked themselves against evil. The consensus was that Caradoc was at fault, even though he was no more to blame than I was. For the second time that day, angry eyes turned on him.
"I come bearing good news," he said, unfazed, "The rest of the hunting party will return on the dawn. We've had a good catch this year."
"We have even better tidings," answered the High Priestess, "The gods have finally answered our prayers. Ah-nar came to us three nights ago, and has promised to break Seraphina's curse. She has chosen you alone to be worthy of her."
I felt the eyes and hopes of the entire village on me. My face burned and my joints locked. I wasn't usually at a loss for action, but I froze under that kind of pressure. From another place, I watched the slaves shuffle, the priestesses whisper behind their hands, and the chief peer down his nose. Everyone was waiting for me to move.
I couldn't breathe.
Caradoc approached me as he would a nervous fawn. He really was very handsome: the sort of man who might flirt with my stepmother and never notice how silly he made me. He was strong and broad. His very visible skin had a rich tan, briefly interrupted here and there by scars. Dark-chocolate hair was pulled back into a short pony-tail with tiny braids at each temple, exposing a handsome and charming face. When he smiled at me, my knees weakened.
I felt his bright blue eyes pulling me back to reality. His eyes… so much like Tess's.
"Goddess," his voice beckoned me back into my body, "You look like you could use some fresh air. Shall I escort you?"
He offered his right hand: large and calloused and dry.
I accepted it, and leaned most of my weight onto his body as we exited. Thankfully, no one followed us. I could hardly breathe. Scheming and plotting were impossible. With panicking awareness, I realized that I needed my parents. I would drown without them. By the time we reached the river, I could no longer move. The pain was unbearable. I felt as if someone were beating me with a wooden club. I didn't know this at the time, but I was experiencing the weight of my task. It was a burden I could not carry alone.
I collapsed and pulled myself together.
Caradoc knelt beside me. "Are you feeling well, goddess?"
"Water… please…" I groaned.
He quickly obliged and I slowly drank. My arms were so weak; I didn't think I would manage at all.
For a moment, he disappeared and then returned with a cold, damp cloth. With aching tenderness, he pressed the cloth to my temples and forehead. I felt the pain subside like the surf from the sands.
"I'm alright now," I said. "Thanks. I don't know what came over me."
"Perhaps Seraphina's curse is stronger than we thought," he said darkly. I did not like to think he was right, but there was no other explanation for my strange sickness and its sudden disappearance.
"I – I'm sorry the High Priestess introduced us like that in front of everyone. What you must think of me…"
"That is her way," he said lightly. "Maybe you were just dying of shame."
I laughed with obnoxious enthusiasm.
"My name is Honor. I could tell you more about myself, but I don't think you'd understand. I am really very sorry that I had to involve you, but you're the only one I could trust. I will do my best to see us safely through this."
"I am Caradoc, son of Caranbold. I am a Hezbaki hunter, and I trust you with my life."
We sat in comfortable silence while nature lived around us. It was a strange situation: I knew things about him that I had no right to know. We were still strangers, but had suddenly been thrown into this difficult and stressful task. Worse still, I couldn't tell him the truth. How could I require so much of someone while giving so little?
"If you're feeling well, perhaps we should return to the village. Knowing my mother, she has no doubt arranged a ceremony for our joining. Never fear, Ah-nar; I shall be at your side always."