The Traveller
Her body shuddered, bones snicker-snacking together in a gruesome melody only she could hear. Her breaths rattled noisily, a desperate grasp on what she could steal from the world before it snuffed her out.
Celia took another gulp of air and sent Draxen her best withering glare. The eyes on the back of his head swivelled and, she had no doubt that were he to strip before her, she’d get vertigo from the swirl of eyes all moving in unison. Of course, this was based strictly from theories whispered around campfires. No one had seen more than 18 of his eyes at once. Yet another story she hoarded, pushed deep down into her pockets only to pull out when night stole her away.
“Are we,” she paused, concentrating on clamouring over a particularly large rock in front of her. “Are we going to go the whole night?”
Draxen stopped and cast a look over his shoulder. It wasn’t exactly indifference. Celia had been around him long enough to know that every action – vocal or otherwise – always had an ulterior motive. A shrug might mean stop asking me questions, silly girl. Alternatively, it could also mean answer the question yourself. You should know it... She concluded (after Draxen had begun to walk once more) that this look probably fell along the lines of wouldn’t you like to know?.
Heaving a sigh, she hitched her skirts up around her thighs and hurried forward, cautious of the pointy rocks that had begun to invade the landscape some hours ago. She knew better than to push. His silence spoke more than any words would.
Many hours passed – at least, she assumed it had been hours (the sky had darkened too much for her to consult her pocket-watch) - before Draxen suddenly stopped. The faint outline of hills still squatted on the horizon and the rocks below her feet remained as pointy as before. In fact, the only difference Celia could discern were the new callouses on the soles of her feet that weren’t there the last time she’d spoken. She’d have to strap them before they roughed up anymore. Mama would kill her if she returned unable to tie her slippers up.
“Shall I boil some tea?” she asked, breathless from travel. He nodded, the eye below his earlobe winking at her. We stop now, it seemed to say. You have done well today. She dipped her head in wary thanks and dropped her pack to the ground.
A sigh rose unbidden from her lips at the sudden airiness she felt between her shoulder blades. Draxen watched her, eyes glittering as she rummaged about her pack in search of the pot. Silly girl, he seemed to say, you’re not going to make a venturer if you cannot handle a pack for more than a day.
She winced at the jest. At fifteen summers passed, she should be completing two to three days of travel without rest. She forced staggered breathing through her nose to avoid increasing the stabbing at her lungs, her hands playing with the zippers about her wrists.
“Do you… do you think we can keep going for a few more hours?” She held her breath – a feat given her tendency towards breathlessness after such short periods of time - and, for a moment, all that could be heard were the zippers clinking.
A beat passed and…
Draxen shook his head. With eyes all closed, he appeared to blink out of existence in his dark clothes. She stilled her zippers.
“Please?” She pleaded and regretted the word as soon as it left her lips. She could already hear the reprimand, delivered with the overwhelmingly floral scent that heralded her mother. People like us do not act like children, she reminded herself and took a steeling breath. What would Jacob say if he saw me?
Straightening up, Celia clasped her hands in front of her. “Tomorrow then?” She corrected herself, aware that, though he hadn’t spoken, an answer had already been given.
He cocked his head to the side, reminding Celia of the way Benny would look at her beneath the table. Tears sprung to her eyes quicker than she could scold herself. Stop it, she thought. You can’t think of them now. And yet… she couldn’t quite banish Benny’s puppy dog eyes from her head. Snap out of it. She bowed her head beneath the scrutiny.
“Not… ready,” he rasped, causing her to flinch. Her hands flopped to her sides as a fog entered her brain, and she fought the urge to tug at the wisps of hair escaping her cap.
“That’s not an option!” She cried, the wind snatching at her words before passing them on, the syllables softer with each toss. She swiped the hair out of her eyes, ends tangling as she shoved them unceremoniously behind her ears.
Draxen regarded her, and she was reminded once more of the many years he’d seen in his travels. Silly child, he seemed to say. Don’t let impatience guide your actions. She lowered her eyes to the ground.
“But… my mother…?” She whispered half-heartedly, eyes fixed upon the moonrock at her feet. She didn’t dare look up, it felt unnecessary. After all, she knew what she’d find.
“Unimportant.” Her head shot up. He stared back at her, a nod punctuating his sentence. Her lips thinned and she glared, purposefully turning her back to him as she returned to her hunt for the pot.
“How dare you!” She seethed through clenched teeth, ripping at the bag’s opening. Stop. You’ve gone too far this time, Jakob’s voice whispered. She gave the zipper a rough tug and pushed him from her mind as she glared at the moonrock beside the bag. It’s your fault I’m here, she fired back, the words echoing about her head.
Callous fingers gripped her chin, guiding it up for to look once more at her companion. She held still as Draxen’s claws fluttered over the pulse point that jumped from her throat, a shake turning her arms molten as he stroked the scars that rung a necklace over her jawline. They throbbed as he tightened his hold, a threat and reminder in one. She went limp.
“I’ll make the tea,” she whispered, fighting the urge to shudder as Draxen let her go with a nod. Sinking over her pack, she averted his stare as he brought his hand up to his mouth, licking her blood from his claws. One more trial, she told herself as her hand wrapped around the pot’s handle. Just one more.