23rd of Fall, 516AV Syliras Region, The Bronze Woods Morning ”Ser Erick?” Once again the voice from behind him drew Erick out from the recesses of his mind and back firmly into the seat of the saddle. The smells and sensations of the forest came flooding back to his consciousness all at once. Heavy ichor-drenched scent that clung to the dense fog, like fresh rain. Distant hum of insects. Aggravating moisture between his rear end and the saddle, rubbing just so with each awkward bump and turn. It was just as well. When guiding the horse in a relatively straight direction Erick didn’t really need to focus all that much, and that left far too much room for unpleasant memories to claw their way out from his subconscious. Voices of the dead. Sometimes they whispered delicately, sometimes they were Wailers. The squire rubbed his eyes a moment. He momentarily considered correcting the farmgirl in regards to his title for what had to be the eighteenth time since he had picked her up, but decided to save the energy. ”Aye, lass?” With a gentle tug on the reins, Erick guided the horse around a small rocky slope. ”Erm…” She paused a moment, shifting behind him. ”It’s just, I don’t mean to seem ungrateful or nothing, but…” Erick groaned. ”Out with it.” ”H… How much longer, d’you think it’ll take?” A reasonable question, given that they had already spent one night in the Bronze Woods. Erick had stayed up to keep watch on their makeshift camp, and although he was glad the horse had gotten some rest, he worried about his own mental opacity. Winds blew in from the north, shaking branches and swirling the mists around. From the corner of one’s eyes a trembling tree limb might have been the encroaching form of a predator closing in from behind the grey veil. Like so many ghostly fingers clinging lazily against the trunks of the trees as they wandered past, the shifting haze could play tricks on the sharpest mind. As another yawn pushed its way out of Erick’s throat, the knight-aspirant pulled on the reins to slow the horse down. ”Slow up there, girl. Steady now.” Once they had fully stopped, Erick pulled a single boot from it’s stirrup and swung off the mare, before offering Julie a hand in dismounting. The farmgirl accepted, grunting softly as Erick placed her on the ground, her eyebrows pulled tightly down on the ridge of her forehead, which was caked with mud, much like the rest of her. ”...Ser Erick?” Erick gently ran a hand through the horse's mane, leading her to a nearby tree and tying the reins to it. ”I wish I could say, lass. I-” ”Julie!” He froze a moment, craning his neck around to peer quizzically at her. ”...Hm?” The girl had her arms folded over her chest, her lips pursed tightly. ”You keep calling me ‘lass’. I already told you my name!” |