Chapter Three
In my waking thoughts, I mull over all the chores that must get done today. I need to milk the goat and pick the tomatoes that I was unable to get yesterday. Of course I would meet Raphelm in the forest for more archery practice.
Raphelm.
Forest.
I quickly sit up, bringing my hands to my mouth to muffle my cry of despair as I realize where the last twelve hours have brought me. I am in the forest with no idea where I am or how far from home I've wandered. I have no idea if Raphelm is alive, or my brother Syndus, or anyone else I know. In attempts to calm myself, I run my hands over my arms and legs to feel for any injuries. The skin on my upper arms is tender from all the scratches from the previous night, but no serious injuries are apparent. I then run my hand over my hair and feel the rats' nests that have formed. I take it all down and string my fingers through it. I carefully redo the braids that go along each side of my head and fasten them in the back. When I finish, I sit for another moment wishing I had grabbed a water skin when I was mockingly packing my bag. When I finally stand, I pull some celery out of my bag and begin to slowly eat it as I walk in the direction I pray will be towards help.
My only choices are to return to the charred village that I could still see smoke billowing from, stop and wait for death to find me, or try and find a road to Anvil or Kvatch. I leave the village behind me so I won't have to see the smoke any longer and begin to walk. I know I mustn't let my fear get the best of me, but I still feel spooked from last night. I decide to pull a bow and an arrow out of my quiver in case I need to be ready for an attack. Do creatures really attack for no reason? The horrific screeching of the dragon echoed through my mind as a reminder. I survived a dragon attack. I will not allow a wolf to take me down.
The light sprinkled through the trees and warmed my skin. I loved the way the sun feels during the warm season, it is almost as if the gods are smiling down upon us. I take in the view of the gnarled, old trees and the boulders scattered between. With my heightened anxiety, everything appears more alive and wild. Suddenly, I find myself frozen like a statue as something rustles behind a large rock. I fumble with my bow, pulling it up into a shooting stance, only to see a small rabbit scurry out from under a fallen tree branch. At least I know I'm ready for a fight. At least I have a weapon.
I continue walking in my chosen direction, praying to the gods that I come across a path soon. I find my gaze wandering to the various plants, especially the blossoms. I have heard Raphelm's mother speak of having to venture into the forest to gather the necessary plants for her healing practices. I now regret not listening closer to her teachings on which plants are healing and which are poisonous. I do, however, remember her stories of healing mages and alchemists. There aren't any of those in our small village. She said they buy rare things such as parts of goblins and trolls from adventurers and then would mix the proper things together to make magical potions. Her twinkling laugh dances through my mind as I remember her poking fun at herself saying, "They even can make a potion that would make me light as a feather." Maybe they have one that would help me blend into my surroundings so the threatening wood creatures would be unable to see me.
I let out a deep sight as I think again about how nice it would be to have my water skin. I can even recall exactly where I left it: on the shelf next to the garlic. At least where the shelf was before the dragon's fire destroyed it. I could feel my thirst nearing the point of dehydration. I consider pulling a tomato out of my bag for its juice, but I quickly remind myself that I have a small amount of food to last an unknown amount of time. I let out another sigh but cut it short as I hear rustling in some bushes not far from me. I keep my wits about me this time, reminding myself that it may be another rabbit or a similar woods creature. I calmly train my bow on the rustling leaves and step in a sideways motion in order to keep my body towards the potential threat. I hold my breath, waiting for the likely small creature to skip out of the bushes ignorant of the threat I pose. The noise of the leaves scraping against one another suddenly comes to a halt. Eerily, the area grows quiet and not even the noise of a creature scurrying away is to be heard. I stop moving and listen for any further signs of the creature in the bush and find that all has, sure enough, fallen silent. However, as I listen closely I began to hear something. It was very quiet at first but then I could pick it up easier and easier. Breathing. Not the soft breaths of a small creature, but the raspy breath of something larger trying to be silent.
Before I could decide the risk of shooting the arrow into the bush, a large, furry creature leapt out at me. Adrenaline took over and I found myself moving on instinct and I sent the arrow flying through the air without hesitation. In the small fraction of time between my release of the arrow and the time it entered the beast's chest, I was able to determine exactly what was attempting to attack me. It seemed impossible. Once the creature hit the ground, I retrieved another arrow from my quiver and trained it on my attacker as I cautiously walked up to it. My assessment was correct. It was a person who attacked me – a Redguard. And now he was dead.
He was tall and muscular with short black hair and dark skin that was darker than my golden skin. He was wearing some pelts as clothing and had a knife clutched in his hand. He looked so feral that he appeared more beast than man, even close up. All day I had feared an attack by wolves and unbeknownst to me it was other people I had to fear.
I closed my eyes as I wrenched my arrow out of his chest and, after wiping the blood off on some leaves, I return it and the one I had drawn to my quiver. Numbly, I grab his knife and the coin purse he had tied on a strap around his waist. I felt almost as if I were stealing from the man, but then reminded myself that he was dead. Murdered by me. Not murdered – I was only defending myself. The most I have ever killed before was a couple goats. Now I have killed another person.
I think about my great-grandfather's stories and his battles with trolls and such, but did he ever kill another being? Yes, I recalled, his stories included other people in the ruins he would explore who would attack without questions. He would have to defend himself, even resorting to killing if that was what it took to stay alive. He was always portrayed as an upright man by my family; however the village people always said he was eccentric. They would smile at me and say that it was such a surprise that a level headed girl like me was a descendent of such a loony. I knew better, however, to believe he was anything but intelligent. He had seen more in his lifetime than they could ever dream of – and had the scars to prove it, according to my father. The village folk called him crazy, but never a murderer. I felt as if this could help me justify my actions. I was defending my life, just like great-grandfather Floramer used to do on his quests. I am becoming an adventurer just as my ancestors were before me.
I look back down at the beast-like man lying in front of me. His dark skin had begun turning ashy in death. I could justify my actions to others, but could I justify them to myself? He chose to attack me, and I chose not to die. If I wanted to become an adventurer I would have to learn to deal with death, be it animals, monsters, or men. I will need to harden myself to it. With a little choke, I quickly turned from the pile of fur lying on the forest floor and began walking again. I couldn't recall the exact direction I had been heading, but picked a way that I believed was close.
After a few steps, my mind began to wander back to my earlier worry. My tongue is dry and screaming for some water. Thirst is consuming my mind so much that I believe I can hear running water. It must be the dehydration playing tricks with my mind because there is no way I am lucky enough to have wandered into an area with a creek in it. I began to become excited and am driven to run towards the sound.
It cannot be water! It must be water! I could hear the way the liquid was flowing over the rocks. Yes, that was definitely the sound of rocks. I slow down as I begin to realize that it wasn't water over rocks I was hearing. It was actually wheels on a stone path – a cart going down the road.
It wasn't my thirst that forced me to sprint now, it was my hope. I crashed through brush and banged my knee against a boulder. Finally, I can see a large shape moving up ahead and I can decipher the shape of a large cart being pulled by a horse. As I run onto the road, I trip over a tree branch, causing me to fly in front of the horse. It rears up on its hind legs and lets out a neigh of fear.
"Whoa, Kaie! It's okay, girl!" The driver drawled, pulling on the reins. He managed to get the horse to calm without letting her step on me. "What do you think you're doing, young miss?! You can't run out in front of a horse like that without spooking it!" The man stared at me with soft, blue eyes. "Well don't lay there; get up for the gods' sakes!"
I was in such shock I hadn't even noticed that I was still in a ball on the ground. I have been attacked twice, once by a dragon, and am now dehydrated and in fear of being stomped on by a horse and this man is lecturing me about not running around horses?
"Miss?" He drawled again, "Are you okay? Kaie didn't get ya, did she?" He looked me over, giving me a quick assessment. "Nope, nothing's broke. Do ya need help getting up?" He laid his reins down on the cart bench and jumped to the ground in one swift movement. He was taller than his horse and his build was rather slight for a farmer. He had sandy blonde hair and pale skin that complimented his blue eyes. His face looked as if he skipped a day or two shaving; the sun caught the small blonde hairs and it gave him a rugged look. His ears were slightly pointed, making me wonder how much elf he had in his Breton blood.
As he walked past his horse, he gave her a pat on her thick neck and then squatted next to where I lay. He scanned his eyes over my body and then met my gaze with a smile that lit up his icy eyes. He was genuinely handsome. Not like Raphelm at all, who was more attractive in a childish way.
"Are you deaf?" He said louder, as if it would make a difference if I were deaf. I gave a slight shake of my head. "No? Well are you mute?" Again I shake my head. He quirked his eyebrows at me as if he was trying to figure out what disability I must have to be acting so strange. "You're lost and scared." It wasn't a question. He knew that I was in shock from something and had figured out what. I tried to give him a smile to answer his question, but I knew it must have looked more like a grimace.
"Well then, since you're not gonna stand on your own, I guess it's up to me to be a gentleman." He gave me another brilliant smile as he scooped me up into his arms. As he carried me towards the back of his cart he said, "Oh, you must think me a brute. I forgot to introduce myself. I go by Danders Greensley and this big beauty that almost stepped on ya is Kaie. Would you like to come back to my home for some food and water? I'd feel horrible letting you go without it."
I tried to give him another smile and must have been more convincing because he smiled back. "Yes," I breathed, "that would be lovely. My name is Emerald Floramer, but you can call me Emi."
"Pleasure," he smiled as he nodded his head at me. He loaded me into the back of his cart and then walked back to his place in the front. I looked around expecting to see the normal things a farmer would be carting to the city to sell, but was taken aback when I found I was surrounded by trunks, chests, and smaller crates. All the containers around me appeared to have been locked at one time, but the lock had been broken. Some of the bigger trunks and chests appeared to be grimy as if they were hidden underground and had to be dug up. It was then that I realized who Danders Greensley was: an adventurer.