New Version as of 2/8/20:
The village square had been built two hundred years ago. It comfortably held a hundred people, which at the time, would have included everyone in the village and two of the neighboring villages.
The population of Jane's village had expanded over the years to the point where not only was the square filled with bodies, but people clogged the alleys in between the businesses that circled the square. Jane, Sarah, Rufus, and Bear ended up in the alley between Kate's bakery and Georgie's shoe shop. Jane spotted Georgie chatting with a few of the villagers.
Georgie was a few years older than Jane and Sarah and had taken over her parents' shoemaking shop three years ago, on her eighteenth birthday. Her parents were nowhere near old enough to retire, but for them, shoemaking had been a job, not a calling. Georgie was a born maker, but she had an independent streak that would have made working for her parents uncomfortable for all of them, so her parents had, rather gratefully, bestowed the business upon her with a promise to help out any time she needed it.
She was short with skinny arms and legs, and perpetually twinkling eyes. Her fingers were long and graceful and as tough as leather. She also had a natural potbelly that frequently made strangers assume that she was pregnant. This was a fact that Georgie was quick to exploit. Any travelers making their way through town who needed a simple shoe repair would find themselves walking a way with perfectly mended shoes, a beautifully made brand-new pair that may or may not be in their size, and feeling good about having insisted on leaving a large tip.
Like any overly obsessed tradesperson, Georgie spotted Jane's boot and immediately abandoned her conversation. "I'm needed!" she called out over her shoulder.
"What did you do?!" she asked Jane, her accusation tempered by the exuberant hug with which she greeted her friend.
Jane laughed and returned the hug. "I got these shoes from anyone other than you," she said, with feigned penitence. The boots were at least twenty years old and had actually been handed down to her by her mother, which she knew Georgie knew.
Georgie tsked. "Well, come by the shop after the meeting," she said, stepping back and studying Jane's boots. Her head snapped up. "The meeting! Oh, you must be running late! You poor dear! Let's get you up to the statue."
Before Jane could protest that the meeting wasn't about her, Georgie was working on clearing a path. The crowd parted reluctantly for Georgie but word spread quickly when they spotted Jane. A pathway to the statue opened up for Jane and she was too polite to decline it.
The middle of the square was taken up by a giant statue, built three times larger than life, on a three-foot-tall base. The statue was a woman on rearing horse, wielding an anchor like a sword. The anchor was enormous, also three times larger than life, and big enough to snap a real woman's wrist, were she foolish enough to hold it that way. It was a testament to the artist that the anchor had never cracked off and crashed into Kate's bakery, which it hovered over. It was a testament to the town's belief in the prophecy that the two-hundred-year-old bronze statue still gleamed like new against the setting sun.
The statue was of Jane -- or at least, as close as the artist could imagine Jane would look, two hundred years ago. Her sightless eyes and determined chin projected confidence and strength. Her breastplate was perfectly molded to her body. Jane's back straightened, and her lungs filled with purpose, as she looked up at the statue.
Halfway to the statue, the crowd closed in again, too consumed with finding a good view and keeping the children from being trampled to pay attention to Georgie. Jane was okay with that. She turned to find that Sarah, Rufus, and Bear had managed to keep up before the crowd had closed in behind her. Bear gave her a small, worried smile. Unnerved by seeing Bear unnerved, Jane turned back to the statue.
The New Commissioner climbed up onto the base of the statue and stood up under the horse's rearing chest. The New Commissioner was twenty-five years old, of medium-height and wiry with impeccable posture that he picked up in the navy. His blue suit was neatly pressed, as always. Jane remembered a less starchy version of him running around town, tugging pigtails and generally making a nuisance of himself. Jane never thought she'd miss that version of him, but the navy had given purpose to his talent for harassing people.
A stranger climbed up onto the platform next to The New Commissioner. As he stood, the top of his head brushed the underside of the horse's chest. His long, dark brown hair was pulled back in a low, curly ponytail. His turned to face the crowd. He was about The New Commissioner's age and had a long face with sharp cheekbones and an equally sharp jaw. He was dressed simply in a shirt with breeches and sturdy boots, all of which were packed tight with muscles. The hilt of a sword peeked out over his shoulder. Jane had never seen him before, but he looked familiar in a way that felt like sharp rocks churning in her gut.
The New Commissioner cleared his throat, which was unnecessary, as every eye was now fixed on the tall stranger standing next to him. "Thank you all for coming out today," The New Commissioner said. to Due to the acoustics of the square, his voice rang out over the crowd. "I have--" he paused and glanced at the stranger to, and then up at the underbelly of the horse. "News."
Jane had never seen The New Commissioner less than completely sure of himself. Neither had anyone else in the town, as evidenced by the murmurs that passed through the crowd. The New Commissioner cleared his throat again. He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was also unheard of.
The stranger smiled, and stepped forward. "Hello, everyone," he said. His voice was a rich, smooth baritone that flowed through the crowd. "My name is James Anthony Sawyer," he said.
Jane's breath caught in her chest. Every nerve in her body awoke at once, and screamed. For a moment, she was back in the forest, five years old, and running, running, running.
Jane felt Bear behind her, calming her with his presence. Slowly, awareness of the crowd returned. The collective roar of the villagers' reactions to James Anthony Sawyer pressed in on Jane. All of the villagers knew Jane's last name and anyone old enough to remember her father could see him in James Anthony Sawyer's face. It just wasn't possible.
James Anthony Sawyer raised his hand, and the crowd quietened. "I am here to the save the world," James Anthony Sawyer said. Once his words sunk in, the crowd erupted again.
Jane forgot to breathe. The cries of, "What about Janie?!" coming from the crowd echoed in her soul.
“I understand,” James said, his baritone booming out over the crowd. His confidence seemed to silence the crowd, more than his words. "I understand," he said again. He smiled consolingly. "You've all believed for all of your lives that my half-sister, Jane was intended to save the world."
His head turned and his gaze found Jane's immediately, as though he'd already known where she was standing. "I was born to the sorceress Misty Montague and the hero John Sawyer but I was kidnapped as an infant. My mother died in childbirth and my father never knew about me. It was only the midwife who ever knew, but she adopted me as her own, and she kept the secret until my eighteenth birthday.
"I spent the last several years training with every weapon known to man so that I can defeat the great evil described in The Red Moon Prophesy." He stepped forward, to the edge of the platform. “I am the 13th scion of Sawyer the Great.”
Jane stood there and watched her father's son steal her destiny. She'd cringed when James Anthony Sawyer had described her father as a "hero" but it was true enough in the strictest sense. John Sawyer had killed a lot of strangers during a war. That's what makes a hero, right?
The crowd rumbled its confusion. “I suppose you can prove your birth?” Rufus called out.
James Anthony Sawyer nodded. He unbuckled the sword strapped to his back, and placed it at his feet. He straightened and tugged his shirt from the waistband of his pants, and the crowd rumbled again. James removed his shirt and then turned so that the crowd got a glimpse of his muscled torso and then his equally impressive back. Just under his left shoulder was a birthmark that looked like an anchor. Every firstborn in Jane's family had one. Jane's father had had one. Jane had one. The statue had one.
The mutterings turned into an uproar. James Anthony Sawyer turned back to the crowd. He made eye contact with Jane again, which drew the crowd's attention to her. Silence surrounded Jane and then circled around the rest of the square. There was a shuffling of feet as the pathway opened up between Jane and the statue.
James Anthony Sawyer held out a hand to Jane. She shook her head. His eyes flashed disappointment. He smiled, compassion and hope in his gaze, as he continued to hold out his hand.
For a moment, Jane imagined what it would be like to grow up an ordinary person and then to find out that he was actually an orphan tasked with saving the world. This man was more stranger than brother, but Jane, better than anyone else, understood the weight of that task. She'd always borne it proudly, but she could admit to the slightest sense of relief, threaded through her overwhelming disappointment.
Her feelings aside, she didn't have the heart to punish him for something that he didn't have any control over. She walked to the platform and then allowed him to pull her onto the platform. Together, they stood under the symbol of her destiny. The lie of her destiny.
The New Commissioner flashed an apologetic smile at Jane and then stood forward, ready to speak.
However, the town, which only had slightly more tolerance toward The New Commissioner than Jane did, due mostly to deference toward his father, had run out of patience.
"Let Janie speak!" Sarah's mother called out from the vicinity of Tailor Tomlinson's shop, and the rest of the crowd roared their agreement.
Jane's stomach tightened, threatening to shove the half-digested stew she had for dinner back up. What was she supposed to say?
She suddenly pictured her mother at home, in front of the fire with a book, snug in her knowledge that a lifetime of pain was bound to be balanced out by her daughter's destined greatness. Jane didn't know what she wanted to do more; throw up or cry.
Dizzy with disappointment and confusion, Jane turned and looked up at James Anthony Sawyer. He radiated confidence, which had the surprising effect of steadying Jane. "Welcome to the family," she said.
She hadn't known the right thing to say, but that wasn't it, as evidenced by the collective groan that came from the crowd.
The New Commissioner stepped forward and raised his hands. "I know that this is shocking news," he said to the crowd. "But--" his voice trailed off.
Everyone, almost as one, turned away from the statue and started to leave. They shuffled off back to their homes, their work, their lives. In minutes, the only people left in the square were The New Commissioner, Jane, her new half brother, Sarah, Georgie, Rufus, and Bear.
The rain, that seemed to have held off for this very moment, gushed down from the sky all at once.
"I leave tonight," James Anthony Sawyer said," drawing Jane's attention back to him. "But, assuming I survive saving the world, I would like to return and get to know you better."
"I'd like that," Jane said. She wasn't sure if she meant it, but she wasn't sure that she didn't.
He smiled, as though he understood her conflict. The rain had driven Sarah, Georgie, and Rufus to run for cover. Bear, however, stood at the base of the statue. Rain hit his head and shoulders and bounced off of him but he remained dry, as though he were covered with an invisible sheet of protection.
The New Commissioner, who was clearly waiting for James Anthony Sawyer, nodded at Jane cordially as she hopped down from the base of the statue. She felt as though she should say something else. She turned and looked up at James Anthony Sawyer. "Good luck with everything," she called out, over the pounding rain.
This felt inadequate, but he nodded and smiled. She grabbed Bear's hand and dragged him into a reluctant run. Halfway to her friends, the twine holding her boot together slipped off. The sole flapped against the boot and water flooded the boot with each step.
By the time she reached her friends, she was soaked. She stood in the rain, and for the briefest moment, wondered if they were still her friends.
She wasn't the savior of the whole world anymore and she had never developed a skill like blacksmithing or shoemaking or anything else of any use. And her skill with a sword wasn't going to do her much good in a sleepy little village.
Old Version:
The wagon jerking to a stop wakes me up -- not that short, sharp movement, but the lack of movement after it. I open my eyes and then squeeze them shut again, surprised to find that the sky has lightened into day. I spent the night curled around a sack full of bread, fighting fitful sleep; bad dreams interspersed with hours of wide-eyed worrying about my mother alone on the farm. I sit up, the added weight of the chainmail combined with my sore muscles making that a more difficult task than it really needs to be. I blink and wipe the sleep from my eyes. I try to find the sun, but it has not yet risen over the tops of the trees and probably won't for a few more hours.
The village square had been built two hundred years ago. It comfortably held a hundred people, which at the time, would have included everyone in the village and two of the neighboring villages.
The population of Jane's village had expanded over the years to the point where not only was the square filled with bodies, but people clogged the alleys in between the businesses that circled the square. Jane, Sarah, Rufus, and Bear ended up in the alley between Kate's bakery and Georgie's shoe shop. Jane spotted Georgie chatting with a few of the villagers.
Georgie was a few years older than Jane and Sarah and had taken over her parents' shoemaking shop three years ago, on her eighteenth birthday. Her parents were nowhere near old enough to retire, but for them, shoemaking had been a job, not a calling. Georgie was a born maker, but she had an independent streak that would have made working for her parents uncomfortable for all of them, so her parents had, rather gratefully, bestowed the business upon her with a promise to help out any time she needed it.
She was short with skinny arms and legs, and perpetually twinkling eyes. Her fingers were long and graceful and as tough as leather. She also had a natural potbelly that frequently made strangers assume that she was pregnant. This was a fact that Georgie was quick to exploit. Any travelers making their way through town who needed a simple shoe repair would find themselves walking a way with perfectly mended shoes, a beautifully made brand-new pair that may or may not be in their size, and feeling good about having insisted on leaving a large tip.
Like any overly obsessed tradesperson, Georgie spotted Jane's boot and immediately abandoned her conversation. "I'm needed!" she called out over her shoulder.
"What did you do?!" she asked Jane, her accusation tempered by the exuberant hug with which she greeted her friend.
Jane laughed and returned the hug. "I got these shoes from anyone other than you," she said, with feigned penitence. The boots were at least twenty years old and had actually been handed down to her by her mother, which she knew Georgie knew.
Georgie tsked. "Well, come by the shop after the meeting," she said, stepping back and studying Jane's boots. Her head snapped up. "The meeting! Oh, you must be running late! You poor dear! Let's get you up to the statue."
Before Jane could protest that the meeting wasn't about her, Georgie was working on clearing a path. The crowd parted reluctantly for Georgie but word spread quickly when they spotted Jane. A pathway to the statue opened up for Jane and she was too polite to decline it.
The middle of the square was taken up by a giant statue, built three times larger than life, on a three-foot-tall base. The statue was a woman on rearing horse, wielding an anchor like a sword. The anchor was enormous, also three times larger than life, and big enough to snap a real woman's wrist, were she foolish enough to hold it that way. It was a testament to the artist that the anchor had never cracked off and crashed into Kate's bakery, which it hovered over. It was a testament to the town's belief in the prophecy that the two-hundred-year-old bronze statue still gleamed like new against the setting sun.
The statue was of Jane -- or at least, as close as the artist could imagine Jane would look, two hundred years ago. Her sightless eyes and determined chin projected confidence and strength. Her breastplate was perfectly molded to her body. Jane's back straightened, and her lungs filled with purpose, as she looked up at the statue.
Halfway to the statue, the crowd closed in again, too consumed with finding a good view and keeping the children from being trampled to pay attention to Georgie. Jane was okay with that. She turned to find that Sarah, Rufus, and Bear had managed to keep up before the crowd had closed in behind her. Bear gave her a small, worried smile. Unnerved by seeing Bear unnerved, Jane turned back to the statue.
The New Commissioner climbed up onto the base of the statue and stood up under the horse's rearing chest. The New Commissioner was twenty-five years old, of medium-height and wiry with impeccable posture that he picked up in the navy. His blue suit was neatly pressed, as always. Jane remembered a less starchy version of him running around town, tugging pigtails and generally making a nuisance of himself. Jane never thought she'd miss that version of him, but the navy had given purpose to his talent for harassing people.
A stranger climbed up onto the platform next to The New Commissioner. As he stood, the top of his head brushed the underside of the horse's chest. His long, dark brown hair was pulled back in a low, curly ponytail. His turned to face the crowd. He was about The New Commissioner's age and had a long face with sharp cheekbones and an equally sharp jaw. He was dressed simply in a shirt with breeches and sturdy boots, all of which were packed tight with muscles. The hilt of a sword peeked out over his shoulder. Jane had never seen him before, but he looked familiar in a way that felt like sharp rocks churning in her gut.
The New Commissioner cleared his throat, which was unnecessary, as every eye was now fixed on the tall stranger standing next to him. "Thank you all for coming out today," The New Commissioner said. to Due to the acoustics of the square, his voice rang out over the crowd. "I have--" he paused and glanced at the stranger to, and then up at the underbelly of the horse. "News."
Jane had never seen The New Commissioner less than completely sure of himself. Neither had anyone else in the town, as evidenced by the murmurs that passed through the crowd. The New Commissioner cleared his throat again. He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was also unheard of.
The stranger smiled, and stepped forward. "Hello, everyone," he said. His voice was a rich, smooth baritone that flowed through the crowd. "My name is James Anthony Sawyer," he said.
Jane's breath caught in her chest. Every nerve in her body awoke at once, and screamed. For a moment, she was back in the forest, five years old, and running, running, running.
Jane felt Bear behind her, calming her with his presence. Slowly, awareness of the crowd returned. The collective roar of the villagers' reactions to James Anthony Sawyer pressed in on Jane. All of the villagers knew Jane's last name and anyone old enough to remember her father could see him in James Anthony Sawyer's face. It just wasn't possible.
James Anthony Sawyer raised his hand, and the crowd quietened. "I am here to the save the world," James Anthony Sawyer said. Once his words sunk in, the crowd erupted again.
Jane forgot to breathe. The cries of, "What about Janie?!" coming from the crowd echoed in her soul.
“I understand,” James said, his baritone booming out over the crowd. His confidence seemed to silence the crowd, more than his words. "I understand," he said again. He smiled consolingly. "You've all believed for all of your lives that my half-sister, Jane was intended to save the world."
His head turned and his gaze found Jane's immediately, as though he'd already known where she was standing. "I was born to the sorceress Misty Montague and the hero John Sawyer but I was kidnapped as an infant. My mother died in childbirth and my father never knew about me. It was only the midwife who ever knew, but she adopted me as her own, and she kept the secret until my eighteenth birthday.
"I spent the last several years training with every weapon known to man so that I can defeat the great evil described in The Red Moon Prophesy." He stepped forward, to the edge of the platform. “I am the 13th scion of Sawyer the Great.”
Jane stood there and watched her father's son steal her destiny. She'd cringed when James Anthony Sawyer had described her father as a "hero" but it was true enough in the strictest sense. John Sawyer had killed a lot of strangers during a war. That's what makes a hero, right?
The crowd rumbled its confusion. “I suppose you can prove your birth?” Rufus called out.
James Anthony Sawyer nodded. He unbuckled the sword strapped to his back, and placed it at his feet. He straightened and tugged his shirt from the waistband of his pants, and the crowd rumbled again. James removed his shirt and then turned so that the crowd got a glimpse of his muscled torso and then his equally impressive back. Just under his left shoulder was a birthmark that looked like an anchor. Every firstborn in Jane's family had one. Jane's father had had one. Jane had one. The statue had one.
The mutterings turned into an uproar. James Anthony Sawyer turned back to the crowd. He made eye contact with Jane again, which drew the crowd's attention to her. Silence surrounded Jane and then circled around the rest of the square. There was a shuffling of feet as the pathway opened up between Jane and the statue.
James Anthony Sawyer held out a hand to Jane. She shook her head. His eyes flashed disappointment. He smiled, compassion and hope in his gaze, as he continued to hold out his hand.
For a moment, Jane imagined what it would be like to grow up an ordinary person and then to find out that he was actually an orphan tasked with saving the world. This man was more stranger than brother, but Jane, better than anyone else, understood the weight of that task. She'd always borne it proudly, but she could admit to the slightest sense of relief, threaded through her overwhelming disappointment.
Her feelings aside, she didn't have the heart to punish him for something that he didn't have any control over. She walked to the platform and then allowed him to pull her onto the platform. Together, they stood under the symbol of her destiny. The lie of her destiny.
The New Commissioner flashed an apologetic smile at Jane and then stood forward, ready to speak.
However, the town, which only had slightly more tolerance toward The New Commissioner than Jane did, due mostly to deference toward his father, had run out of patience.
"Let Janie speak!" Sarah's mother called out from the vicinity of Tailor Tomlinson's shop, and the rest of the crowd roared their agreement.
Jane's stomach tightened, threatening to shove the half-digested stew she had for dinner back up. What was she supposed to say?
She suddenly pictured her mother at home, in front of the fire with a book, snug in her knowledge that a lifetime of pain was bound to be balanced out by her daughter's destined greatness. Jane didn't know what she wanted to do more; throw up or cry.
Dizzy with disappointment and confusion, Jane turned and looked up at James Anthony Sawyer. He radiated confidence, which had the surprising effect of steadying Jane. "Welcome to the family," she said.
She hadn't known the right thing to say, but that wasn't it, as evidenced by the collective groan that came from the crowd.
The New Commissioner stepped forward and raised his hands. "I know that this is shocking news," he said to the crowd. "But--" his voice trailed off.
Everyone, almost as one, turned away from the statue and started to leave. They shuffled off back to their homes, their work, their lives. In minutes, the only people left in the square were The New Commissioner, Jane, her new half brother, Sarah, Georgie, Rufus, and Bear.
The rain, that seemed to have held off for this very moment, gushed down from the sky all at once.
"I leave tonight," James Anthony Sawyer said," drawing Jane's attention back to him. "But, assuming I survive saving the world, I would like to return and get to know you better."
"I'd like that," Jane said. She wasn't sure if she meant it, but she wasn't sure that she didn't.
He smiled, as though he understood her conflict. The rain had driven Sarah, Georgie, and Rufus to run for cover. Bear, however, stood at the base of the statue. Rain hit his head and shoulders and bounced off of him but he remained dry, as though he were covered with an invisible sheet of protection.
The New Commissioner, who was clearly waiting for James Anthony Sawyer, nodded at Jane cordially as she hopped down from the base of the statue. She felt as though she should say something else. She turned and looked up at James Anthony Sawyer. "Good luck with everything," she called out, over the pounding rain.
This felt inadequate, but he nodded and smiled. She grabbed Bear's hand and dragged him into a reluctant run. Halfway to her friends, the twine holding her boot together slipped off. The sole flapped against the boot and water flooded the boot with each step.
By the time she reached her friends, she was soaked. She stood in the rain, and for the briefest moment, wondered if they were still her friends.
She wasn't the savior of the whole world anymore and she had never developed a skill like blacksmithing or shoemaking or anything else of any use. And her skill with a sword wasn't going to do her much good in a sleepy little village.
Old Version:
The wagon jerking to a stop wakes me up -- not that short, sharp movement, but the lack of movement after it. I open my eyes and then squeeze them shut again, surprised to find that the sky has lightened into day. I spent the night curled around a sack full of bread, fighting fitful sleep; bad dreams interspersed with hours of wide-eyed worrying about my mother alone on the farm. I sit up, the added weight of the chainmail combined with my sore muscles making that a more difficult task than it really needs to be. I blink and wipe the sleep from my eyes. I try to find the sun, but it has not yet risen over the tops of the trees and probably won't for a few more hours.
"Hon, can you hand me that bread?" Kate asks. She runs a hand through her hair and takes the bag I hand her with the other. She flashes me a brief smile and then walks away. I climb out of the wagon, wincing at the blister and less grateful for the new boots. I would trade them in in a second to have woken up in my own bed after having slept through the night.
The road has widened enough that the wagons can fit on one side and still let travellers pass. As I follow Kate around the side of the wagon, I see the farmers leading the horses away from the road. There is a stream gurgling nearby and I assume that that the farmers are leading the horses there. I don't see Bear, but I can hear the everpresent music from his horn coming from somewhere in the vicinity of the stream. Rufus heads off into the forest and Sarah approaches me, frowning.
"I'm sorry," she says, "You shouldn't have slept in that." She gestures to the armor. She helps me out of it. I'm glad, as I don't think I would have been able to do it myself. My arms feel dead.
"Thank you," I say, with a real smile, feeling twenty pounds lighter.
"No problem." She flashes me a grin that makes me feel like we're almost real friends again, and walks over to hang the armour over the side of the wagon.
The Librarian has a bunch of maps spread out on the back of Farmer Adams' wagon and is going over the route with Imogene.
Sarah starts clearing dead leaves from the area between the wagons and the forest. I stand there feeling useless until she piles some of the leaves in the center of the cleared area. I realize that she is going to make a fire, so I start gathering some twigs and small, dead branches. By the time I have a good armful, she has created a small circle of rocks, with a large, flat backstop and has set fire to the pile of dead leaves in the center. She recieves my dried branches with a small smile and adds a few of them to the fire.
Rufus comes back with a string of gutted fish just as Kate hands Sarah a frying pan. I stand back, feeling useless again, as I watch them make breakfast. I look around for something to do and realize that my hands are filthy. I'm also in desperate need to relieve my bladder. I sneak off for some private time and stop by the stream on the way back. There's no sign of Bear, but I can see the rear ends of the horses as they follow the farmers back to camp. I follow, too.
Farmer Adams is harnessing Eve to the wagon, but Farmer Bev has finished, and Kate hands her a skewer of fish and a loaf of bread. The Librarian, Imogene, and Sarah are sitting around the fire, eating, while Rufus mans the skillet.
Kate hands me a skewer of cooked fish and a small loaf of bread and I smile at her gratefully, although I don't know if she can see it, as I've taken the first bite before she's even let go of the stick. I close my eyes. Nothing has ever tasted so good -- until I bite into the bread. I can't believe that Kate still has a soul, as she must have sold it long ago for this recipe. I've always been a sucker for her bread, but it has never made made my knees this weak before. I settle down on the hard ground to finish enjoying my meal. Something buzzes by my ear as Bear reappears from the forest.
He shouts, "Run!" at me before I can tease him for disappearing for so long. I stare at him and start to rise, confused, but he tackles me as something whizzes by my head.
"Whuh?" I manage, but he yanks me up and pushes me toward the wagons. Quick impressions: Farmer Adams standing next to a half-harnessed Eve with his mouth open, Farmer Bev bleeding, Imogene bleeding with The Librarian crouched over her, and flashes as Rufus, Kate, and Sarah converge on me. I'm lifted and tossed into the wagon -- pain, pain, pain -- and then we're moving.
I lift my head to peer over the side of the wagon, but Bear pushes it back down. "Idiot, stay still," he says. I see Sarah chasing after the wagon and move toward her, but Bear pushes me down again. Fury at him and terror for Sarah rise in me but after pushing me down, Bear moves to the back of the wagon and reaches out for her. Her hand grasps his and he pulls her up, but pain contorts her face.
He pulls her in and she lands next to me. With her head facing in and mine out, I have a great view of the arrow sticking out of her leg. I tear my gaze away, gagging, and see several people run out into the road, bows point at the back of the wagon. Bear pulls up the back of the wagon's gate just as the archers let loose. Four arrows thud into the wood, and one sails over it, splintering the wood between us and whoever is driving the wagon and sticks there.
***
Sarah groans and I look over. She's pulled herself up a bit and is leaning against the boards separating the wagon from the driver's seat. An arrow still quivers in the wood next to her shoulder, and another sticks out of her upraised leg. She's trying to see the wound, but the angle is weird; it's in the side but back, next to the calf, just above her boot. Bear looks over from the gate at the back of the wagon, and scoots over to examine her leg.
"It hit the bone, but the tip didn't go all the way through the flesh, so it should be easy enough to pull out," Bear said.
"Remember when you hit Hans with an arrow?" I ask. I should probably try to distract her with something else, but that's all I can think of.
Sarah grins. "I felt bad, but it was so funny." She grimaces as Bear removes her boot. He pulls out a knife and carefully cuts her leather pant leg.
"You only threw it, anyway, and he shouldn't have been in the way, and the point was dull so it pretty much bounced right off." I said, keeping my eyes on hers so that neither of us would be staring at what Bear was doing.
Sarah rolls her eyes. "He still ran home crying to his father, though." She flinches as Bear tugs the arrow out and uses the cloak that Tailor Tomlinson made for him to stanch the blood.
I snort. "What a baby."
"He still has the scar on his thigh," Sarah says, trying not to laugh at the memory or cry at the current pain. Bear touches his horn to Sarah's leg and the wound stops bleeding. He wipes blood off of her leg with a clean part of the cloak. Her skin is smooth, but Sarah is still pale. She lets out a breath. Bear uses water from a canteen and another clean part of the cloak to wash his hands and then hands the canteen to Sarah. She drinks from it and hands it to me.
I didn't realize how thirsty I am until now. I've landed on my chainmail tunic, and it doesn't make for a comfortable mattress. I sit up and shove it over a bit so that I'm sitting on plain wood. I gulp down water before handing the canteen back to Bear. He caps it and stows it with the others.
Sitting up, I can see that Kate is driving, with Rufus next to her. Just a few minutes ago, he was holding a frying pan and smiling, and now he's holding a crossbow and his head darts around, looking for any signs of movement from the trees.
I look behind us, hoping to see Farmer Adams' wagon following, but the road is clear.
"They're fine," Bear says, following my gaze.
"They were bleeding," I say. "Farmer Bev and Imogone."
"Imogene is fine," Bear says. A small smile quirks his lips. "I saw her running out into the road behind the archers. She didn't look very happy with them and she had two very sharp knives in her hands."
I exhale as I'm flooded with relief. But my mind flashes back to the blood and I picture all of them being slaughtered, and now I can't breathe. I know they're alive but I was so scared that they're dead that my heart breaks, mourning for them anyway. Sarah scoots over and puts an arm around me. I'm too embarassed about my reaction to look at her, but I look up at Bear. "They're really okay?" I ask through the tears. Bear nods. He never lies to me, but for some reason his reassurance just makes me cry harder. I almost lost them. They've been a part of my life for me to be me without them. All of the them, even The Librarian.
I shove away image after image of mercenaries flooding out of the forest and into our little camp even after Imogene kills the archers. They have to be okay. They have to. I can't be okay if they're not okay. I'm so tired, but the tears won't stop. I'm plagued by the fear that the farmers and Imogene and The Librarian are lost to me forever. Finally, my mind grasps onto Bear's assurances and holds on because it's the only thing I can do in order to stay sane.
I sit there, grateful for Sarah's arm over my shoulder, but otherwise blank-minded for I don't know how long. When Bessie slows down, I look behind us and see that the sun is starting to peek up over the trees.
***
Kate stops the wagon in the middle of the road. Bear climbs out of the wagon. I'm not sure why, but I follow him out and then wander over to the side of the road. My focus narrows down to one plant and I examine the way that the leaves spike up out of the ground, a deep, full, green, and then fade out to yellow in the middle, with veins of bright green showing through. Some of their edges are dried and brown. None of the leaves are identical. Some are shorter, some thinner, some darker, some lighter, some healthier, some dying. I try to build this into some sort of metaphor but at the moment, my mind is numb to everything but basic observation.
I feel a sudden pressure on my back and turn to find Bear strapping a pack onto me. "You okay?" He asks quietly, looking into my eyes. Because I see him almost every day, sometimes I forget to notice how beautiful he is; the precise violet of his eyes, the sad hollows underneath, the sharp yet delicate cut of his jaw. "You okay?" he asks again, shaking me a bit.
I nod.
"We're going to walk for a while," he says.
"The maps," I say, picturing The Librarian and Imogene hovering over them at the back of Farmer Adams' wagon.
"I know where we're going," Bear says. The return of his air of arrogant assurance makes me smile.
I look around. Sarah is tucking her cut pant leg back into her boot. She laces up the boot and then slips her pack on her back. Kate has a pack, as well. Bear does too, and has several canteens slung over his shoulder. Rufus stands next to the wagon, reins in his hand.
"You're not coming with us?" I ask.
"They'll be looking for a wagon," Bear said. "Rufus is going on ahead to the next town, where he'll board the horse and wagon and then he'll rejoin us closer to Binyne."
I don't like the idea of using Rufus as a decoy, but I really can't face the idea of separating from another member of our group. My heart beats as though I'm being chased and the edges of my vision dim. Rufus hands the reins to Kate and walks over to wrap me in a giant bear hug.
I cling to him, drawing from his solid sensibility. He lets go too soon and the air between us is suddenly too cold, too bright. "I'll see you soon," he promises gruffly. I pretend not to see the tears in his eyes, and he shows me the same courtesy. He walks back to the wagon, takes the reins from Kate, and then climbs in.
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