Private Tales On The Road

[Thren]

"Yes I know." He wondered if the boy would ever actually learn to listen.

Half of being a Soldier was about following Orders. Granted the other half was about knowing which orders to follow, but one had to know the first half in order to actually understand the second. Perhaps when this was all over he could drop Bernard off with the Allirian City Watch and they could teach him a thing or two about what being a Soldier actually meant.

Not that it mattered much in the moment.

Thren had managed to gather up about a dozen people, most of them women though a few men scattered among them. They were all scared, terrified even. The bandits seemed to be focusing on the head of the caravan, systematically making their way through the people from front to back.

"We head south." Thren said through gritted teeth. "Into the Falwood."

He grabbed Bernard's shoulder and practically threw him into the woods.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard stumbled in, glancing over his shoulder and wincing as a female scream pierced the air. He stepped back towards the caravan, unable to help himself. He had to stop this!

But Thren's solid figure stood in his way, shoving him back in and towards safety. And so they ran. They ran and retreated deeper into the dangers of Falwood, only able to hope it held more of a chance for them to live in than here.

The sounds of the others grieving sent his stomach for a knot, the boy turning to the side as paused for a break, several unable to push forward just yet. He wanted to vomit. Oh gods, he was going to vomit.

 

[Thren]

Thren knew that they hadn't yet made it a mile away from the caravan by the time the other forced him to stop for a moment.

A scowl pulled across his lips as they did, but he well understood it.

The terrain of the Falwood was never friendly, plus several of the dozen or so refugees were ladden with packs that he has forced them to carry. He knew they needed supplies, but all that they could take they had needed ro carry themselves. He frowned for a moment, glancing back the way they had come for just a brief second before he pulled a waterskin from his pack.

Within three steps he was at Bernard's side. "Drink this and pull yourself together."

His voice was low.

"We need to get further. Take the lead and keep heading south." Didn't matter how, there was no trail now.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard took the waterskin, pressing it to his lips with a shaky hand.

His stomach calmed, but his mind did not. "All those people..."

He squeezed his eyes shut and looked away from Thren, not wanting to bare his weakness so clearly to him.

He took a moment, then brushed off his face, looking to Thren. "Do you know where we are? Where we're going?" There was a touch of hopefulness to his voice, the boy not wanting to wander aimless ontop of all this too.

 

[Thren]

"South." Thren reiterated.

The Barbarian did not know the Falwood well enough to really say exactly where they were going, he just knew that the more South they went the safer they would be. The only people that knew this place were the Elves, and none of their people were among those refugees who had escaped the caravan.

There was little hope, near enough none, but Thren knew it was the one shot they had.

"South until we hit a river." Thren said with a frown. "Then follow it against the current."

Going the other way would lead them towards the coast...and towards Vel Anir. The only hope they had was to find an Elven city or outpost, somewhere they would be welcomed.

A long shot...but at least it was there.

 

[Bernard]

Bernard swallowed hard, finding a sense of strength by those directions. They had a place to go, something to work for. No need to fall stagnant. No need to stop and think.

He handed back the water and moved to walk away, intending to wordlessly force the others up and keep them moving. Stopping would only work against them. In every sense of the word.

 

[Thren]

For a few moments some of the refugees lingered, but eventually they too began to trek forward after Bernard.

Thren stayed still, watching as the dozen and a half men and women began to trudge through the unsteady ground. He frowned, eyes wandering after them until they had nearly passed behind the tree lines. "Watch behind us, boy."

The Barbarian told Larik as he patted the hounds head.

"They'll be busy with the others for a while yet...but we have to be careful." The Dog wagged his tail, clearly not entirely understanding the context of the situation.

Thren didn't know if any of the others did, if Bernard did, but it was a grim thing. Something better not thought about at all. While they fled the rest of the caravan died, bait so that they might live. A small shake of the head, a quiet word to whatever god was out there, and then Thren followed after the others.

 

[Bernard]

It was a long day of stumbling through thicket, but eventually they did hit the river. What supplies they carried we dropped and set up, the dozen or so merchants truly needing to break for camp. Not many of them had ever had to walk so far or hard through real forest, the carts keeping them soft and life relatively easy for someone on the road.

Not to mention the grief that left them all numb and stumbling.

The sun would soon set. And so they started their strangely comforting routine of setting up ... with less hands and supplies than the day before. Unlike usual, Bernard helped, fumbling a bit but trying regardless. He didn't want to fall still and think.

 

[Thren]

"No fires." Thren said quietly as he came to a stop.

Larik was still a mile or so behind them, searching out the scent of bandits and ensuring that nobody was following. They had come far, further than Thren had thought they would. It was a good thing, and hopefully the bandits just abandoned the search for them before even starting.

If they even knew they'd left.

"Not tonight or tomorrow." After they got further away maybe, but for now it was still too dangerous. "Careful with the river."

Thren told one of the men who had begun to fashion a fishing pole.