In the Wild

Sirona lay beside the fire, just close enough to feel its warmth. Druid hadn’t stopped humming the song until they reached camp and settled beside the fire.

“You’re in luck,” Druid said, “It’s warm tonight. You shouldn’t catch a chill if you stay in your clothes. My apologies for not having a spare set of clothing.”

Sirona shook her head, “There is nothing to apologize for. I am grateful to just share the fire.”

Druid hummed, “Get some rest if you can. The nights are long in the forest.”

Sirona nodded, curling up under the blanket he gave her, and watched the fire dance for a while before turning away from Druid and the fire.

She was on the other side of the Tara River somehow, but that was impossible. Everyone knew that. People had burst into flames trying to cross it. Reports from the northern side of Conna said that the priests had taken to shoving heretics into the river.

Humans couldn’t cross the river. So, either she wasn’t human or she was dead.

It was possible that she was in the afterlife, but she wasn’t convinced of that. Druid was otherworldly all on his own and the fire-breathing bear was something else. She’d never heard about things like that in the afterlife.

Besides, if she had died, wouldn’t she have been greeted by her father by now? What about her mother? The others on the estate? Were they being tortured or had they joined the temple slaves to save their lives?

Would she ever know? Crossing the river once was a fluke. Was she in a position to try and cross it again? How would she even navigate back to Conna?

She sighed as her eyes burned with tears. Whatever fate had befallen them was unknowable to her, but she knew it was more likely death.

She had killed a temple knight, injured several others, and cut the Herald of Anu. Even her mother’s most desperate pleas would fall on deaf ears as she was the mother of a murderous heretic.

I’m sorry, mother. She sniffled letting exhaustion and grief weigh down her mind and pull her into sleep.

Druid watched the fire and listened to the forest well into the morning. As the sun began to rise, he began to prepare breakfast.

“Sirona,” he called, shaking her gently. “Sirona?”

She groaned and turned towards him as he turned away to poke the potatoes he’d buried in the embers.

“Is it dawn already?”

“I apologize for waking you though it seems as though you could use more rest. I am due to return to my home in a few days, so I must get on the road. You are more than welcome to come with me as far as you would like, or I could guide you to the nearest merchant path so you can make your way.”

Sirona drew her knees to her chest, considering it. She didn’t know the terrain or anywhere else.

“Where is your home?”

He sighed, “A small town near the sea in Berth. About a day and half southwest from here through the mountains and forest.”

Sirona worried her lip. Port towns were hubs of information. Perhaps there she could get some more information about where she was, but what would she do after that?

She had nowhere to go.

“I would be grateful if you would take me with you.”

Druid bobbed his head, “Well, we should eat and get going.”

He waved his hand over the embers and across the camp. The blanket she was under and a few other odds and ends lifted into the air and flew into his bag.

A large oblong object floated up out of the dying embers as a large leaf wrapped around it. Druid plucked his out of the air and brought it towards the opening of his hood with a sigh.

“These are best hot and on the road.”

“Thank you.”

Sirona lifted it from the air and sniffed it. It smelled a bit sweet. Her stomach rumbled and she took a bite. It was sweet and starchy like a potato but strangely spicy. She’d never tasted anything like it.

She got to her feet and followed after Druid. The branches seemed to part out of his way, allowing him easy passage through the bramble. She couldn’t understand why he would walk through the thickest part of the forest when there were less cluttered paths, but she kept just behind him.

She ate as quickly as she could and felt her stomach’s grumbling ease as the forest started to give way to a rockier surrounding. She hadn’t realized that they were just behind a mountain. She looked up to where the tops of the mountains disappeared into the clouds.

“Through the mountains, you said. Are there paths?”

Druid hummed, “Well, paths enough.”

What did that mean?

Druid pat the face of the mountain and stairs began to appear. He walked up to them confidently and Sirona followed just behind him, amazed. The steps were solid beneath her feet as if they’d been crafted by the most skilled craftsman.

“You’re quite amazing,” she said. “Does everyone in Berth climb mountains like this?”

He laughed, “No. I just prefer the shortcut.”

The stairs ended at a steep slope. Druid walked forward and up the slope as Sirona eyed it. It wasn’t so steep that she couldn’t walk up the slope, but a set of stairs would have been helpful. She hiked her skirt and began to climb the incline.

“What a strange path to take,” Druid murmured to himself.

Her heart lurched at his words, “Does that mean we’re going the wrong way?”

The wind blew making his long hood and sleeves billow in the wind.

“No, not at all. I just—”

Sirona shrieked as her foot slipped. Her hand skidded against the incline as she scrambled for something to grab.

Suddenly, her fall stopped as her legs dangled over the edge of the mountain. She looked up at where Druid had grabbed her wrist in a firm grip. His face was covered by the fabric of his hood blowing past, but she felt his gaze on her.

He lifted her onto the ledge as if she weighed nothing and set her beside him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking her scraped hand. Warmth washed over her palm, soothing the ache and closing the wounds. “I suppose, your boots were not made for climbing.”

She looked down to his booted feet ad couldn’t imagine how his boots differed much from hers.

“Or perhaps you were not made for climbing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need, Sirona,” he turned his head, “We have to find shelter. A snowdrift is coming.”

He kept a hold on her hand as he led her along a ledge. The wind howled around them.

He huffed and kneeled, “Get on my back.”

Sirona grimaced, but obeyed and shuddered at the burning heat of his body as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her onto his back and shifted her weight before he stood and took a step off the ledge.

She squeaked, turning her head into his shoulder so she wouldn’t have to watch them fall.

But the lurching feeling in her stomach she expected never came.

They drifted through the air as he leaped forward onto another ledge in a jagged path across the face of the mountain.

“There! That’ll do.” They fell a few feet before he landed on a ledge and walked into the darkness of the cave. He let her go and she slid off his back as he sighed. “Just in time too.”

Sirona frowned and looked back before a bristling cold wind blew past. She stumbled back from the mouth of the cave into him as the once clear air turned hazy with blizzard-like snowfall.

“What is that? The sky was just clear!”

“It’s a magical snowdrift. It happens this high up.”

Sirona turned to him, shivering at the cold air sweeping inside the cave as Druid retreated to the back of the cave.

“How did you know that it was coming?”

Druid gestured vaguely, “Something in the air.”

Sirona wanted to ask for a better answer as it was just a bit too mystic for her tastes, but she was pushed forward by a burst of cold air.

“Come to the back of the cave. I have a few fire crystals to keep us warm until it passes, but you’ll have to be close.”

Sirona crossed the distance a little nervous but sank to the ground beside him as close as possible. The fire crystals in his hand gave off warmth, but he seemed much warmer than they were.

“A little closer or you’ll freeze,” Druid said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer.

Her heart raced at the closeness as his scent filled her nose. He smelled like fresh earth and something a little musky. She looked up at him, expecting to see his face, but even this close, the darkness his hood cast was too deep.

Was he scarred or something? Maybe it was a custom of Berth or something. She decided against asking him, fearing it would be rude, and leaned into him, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat as the snowdrift raged outside.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so safe.