Solo When the World's Falling...

[Millie]

10th - 15th Spring, 516 AV

10th

It had been five, long days since the letter had been delivered to her, since her world had come crashing down around her ears. The life that had been getting better, her job, her growing friendship with the other barmaids... everything was over now.

She was going to the Rearing Stallion to let Kevith know that she was going to be leaving. She'd made up her mind, finally. Tam's offer was too good to refuse. Millie was going to Kenash.

It was a long way away, she knew. There wasn't much else the woman knew about it, really. But, that was her goal and her aim now. All that remained of her heart was now focussed on getting to Kenash, and seeing Tam, and doing something, anything to stop the decision that would ruin both of their lives.

Kevith needed to know she was going to be absent.

A little while later, the girl arrived at the tavern. It was drawing close to evening, and already the building was filling out with patrons. Navigating herself through the bodies, the girl finally reached the bar, where Kevith stood. In the corner, a woman played sultrily on a lute, singing some song about love.

Millie turned her face away, a lurching feeling in her stomach. Abruptly, she noticed Kevith, and turned to motion him towards her. He looked surprised for a tick, and then angry. He frowned, "Where've you been, Millie?"

She didn't answer as a blonde woman leaned her elbow against the bar and laughed stupidly at a joke her friend told her. "Something's come up, and I've leaving Syliras."

The words stuck in her throat, but she pushed forwards, knowing that if she didn't say something, she would say nothing at all. "I... I'm leaving, so, I'm not working here. I'm not sure when I come back. Thank you for the job."

The man opposite her stood speechless, as she surreptitiously wiped a tear away from her cheek. There, I've done it. "Okay Millie, thank you for letting me know." The man's voice held a quality Millie didn't recognise as she turned away, and pushed herself out of the tavern, suddenly needed fresh air.

That's one down. The thought whispered through her mind, numb but persistent. Now all she needed to do was arrange travel, and somehow reach Kenash...

[Millie]

It was fortunate, really, that she found the merchant when she did. She had been beginning to lose hope. Every person she'd asked, every avenue she'd pursuaded had been a dead end, a shake of the head, a hasty evaluation of the wispy-looking girl, unfit for travel.

Perhaps it was because she had been growing desperate that the grizzled merchant had relented, telling her the leaving date, explaining what she'd need to do. It wasn't a job, not really. He wasn't going to pay her, he said. Her payment was the safety of the caravan. All she had to do was trudge ans carry, just like the rest of them.

The day was the 12th Spring. The merchant was due to leave on the 15th Spring, so she had two days to get ready. But in truth, she did not know what she wanted or indeed needed to do. She'd bought a dagger the day previously, for protection, she reasoned, on this long journey. But in reality, the weight of the dagger in her hand felt reassuring, dangerous... like she could achieve things. And although it was a nice feeling, she couldn't help but feel worried at her reaction to it.

Her days were passing so fast, so fast that she couldn't keep up. That night, the woman lay in her bed, her breath speeding up as she thought about her life, and how it was falling apart, so fast that she couldn't blink, couldn't breathe even. The dagger lay, unsheathed, on the table next to the bed. It gleamed in the soft light of the tallow candle, alluring, sharp...

Millie abruptly turned onto her side, pushing herself up. There was something that was losing control inside of her, something that was hard and sharp, like the knife. She wanted to stab it out, but didn't know how to heal the wound Tam had left in her, the wound that didn't make sense. Nothing made sense... so she stabbed the pillow, over. And over. And over. Hoping for some release. Yet nothing came, and she fell asleep, amongst shreds of feathers.

[Millie]

Early on the 15th Spring, at the gates.

The day dawned, dread swirling in her stomach at the thought. In her pack, she carried everything she owned. She didn't have a change of clothes, and indeed didn't have anything to wash them in, unless they came across a stream along the way. Her waterskin was full, and her rations were packed neatly away.

This voyage had been the luckiest thing she could have stumbled across. The merchants were long of tooth, grizzled hair and faces tanned dark from long stretches outside. A couple of sellswords lounged nearby, smoking from pipes a smoke that made her choke. There were no other women, and nowhere for her to sleep. But despite it all, she knew she would have food to eat, bodies to prtect her from the wilderness, and somewhere to stay. So what of the dangers of men, she didn't care anymore what happened to her, or indeed care if she would freeze out under the sky, of which she undoubtedly would on many occasions.

The merchants had two caravans, one laden with travel supplies, and the other laden with goods, presumably for when they arrived at Kenash. Millie's job, as the head merchant had told her, was to carry some of the lesser packs, ones that wouldn't fit inside the cart, or on the horses. The pack was heavy, but not unduly so, and she lifted it onto her shoulders, staggering under the weight.

She didn't really know what to do, so she simply stood there. Soon enough, the merchants started talking amongst themselves, and with a quick shout of "Hoy!", the caravans were off, through the gate and out onto the road. It was time for Millie to find what she'd lost.