by CC Rose
Hot flames flickered in my vision. Thick blood splattered his face and body as the empty, lifeless eyes, stared past me and into a void of complete darkness. The scream was mine as I clutched his body as the grip of hands on my shoulder and the far voice of—Karson?
“Wake up. It’s just a dream.”
Just a dream? My eyes snapped open and Karson was beside me, shaking me awake.
“You were dreaming. You’re okay now.” He was half holding me to his broad chest.
It was too early for such thoughts, and no, I didn’t need the comfort this early either. I wiped the tears that fell and untangled myself from the sleeping bag as Karson rose.
He dipped his head to lower himself to my height. “You okay?”
“Good.” I managed.
Glancing around the area, it was different now the sun was up. The morning birds were tweeting to the cool summer breeze that would soon wash away the knowledge that we were even here. He combed his fingers through his hair, waiting for more. I didn’t want to talk about my dream. I glanced everywhere, but at him.
“Bet you’re wishing you didn’t bring me on this trip.” I joked as I reached for my bag. Disentangling my hair, I brushed through the knots with haste. Waking further and pushing my dream to the far thoughts of my mind.
Karson pressed his lips together at my comment, troubled and unsure. This was weird.
“Does this happen often?”
“Camping?” I mused. “No. First time since I left Plumridge.”
He blinked several times. “Not camping … Your nightmare. Do you dream about the attack of Plumridge often?”
“The attack? How … what do you mean?” I was avoiding the obvious.
“You talk in your sleep. Walter … that was your father. Yes?”
“Yeah.” My jaw clenched, as the burn in my eyes threatened to spill. I blinked hastily, parting my long curls into three. Twisting and twining them with speed, to keep them in the side braid I had become accustomed to. I tied it off trying to avoid the stare of Karson.
“How often?”
“Um … every night.” I stood. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just a dream …”
Karson placed a comforting hand on my arm. “You’re traumatised by his death and no one has spoken to you about this … about death, or taken you to the chapel to mourn his passing.”
“I did, the day the EzanGuard showed. There was a ceremony of all who were lost that day. There wasn’t a body … it went missing. But we still had a mourning day.”
“That is not the same. You should have taken solace of his passing. Your ways are not much different to ours when a loved one dies, regardless of the presences of a body or not. You should still have been shown the rite of mourning.”
“It’s fine. It’s been six months.” The hot tear trickled along my cheek. Wiping it away, I pulled from his grip, hating the tears falling. “It’s fine.” I turned with haste from Karson before he could catch me.
I headed to the gully, to the cool water for freedom. My sobs were a little louder than I needed, and I hated that more. How much worse can this trip get. Yesterday I attacked him for being just like Bronson. Then, last night, I discovered I can see ghost, and now, talking about Walt. No. I don’t want to talk about him. Mostly I just hoped I hadn’t had a dream, a nightmare on him. Morning light filtered warm orange and yellows across the sky as dappling clouds streaked the blue sky above. I splashed water onto my face, soothing my worries away and changing into fresh clothes, I was eager for the rest of today’s … adventure.
Maybe he will bring you back to the grounds, mused La’Kera.
Doubt it. Though, it would be nice to see you too.
I returned through the brush to find Karson had packed up the camp site. Our bags were to the side; the fire was cinders and now covered with dust. He too had changed into fresh clothes. Keeping my eyes downcast, I stuffed my used clothes into my pack. Today I had chosen to wear the leather blue skirt with half leggings, since it was getting hotter by the day. My calves were visible and so to my shoulders. I felt a little exposed and to my surprise comfortable, though not sure if Karson would allow my wears. He scanned my form, but didn’t say anything. Not even a clench of his jaw was there. Okay. So maybe it wasn’t that bad. I know if I had even thought of wearing this in Plumridge, I would have been dragged inside the moment anyone saw me. To show this much skin was, wrong in my town. I noticed a lot of what my town considered wrong, the Ryders and the people of EzRah thought normal. Wearing low cut tops and short skirts were strange and weird to me, and my township.
“We can do a mêlée lesson first.” Karson stated, seeing, as I was ready to shoulder the pack. “And then we can have a light breakfast. There are several fruit trees in that direction. We can head there in a while.”
“You still want to go on this camping trip … after the way I’ve acted.” I blurted out.
He smirked, though more of an understanding than amusement. “You have yet to discover why you’re here, and the more time I spend with you; the more I realise, you need time alone, and time to adjust to who, and what you are.”
“You’re a patient person,” I whispered.
“For you I have to be. Come on, mêlée.” He held my eyes for three seconds before scooping up a branch to test the weight and speed of it.
“Well, I guess it won’t feel like a normal day until you beat me around for a bit.”
The hard look showed instantly as to the clench of his jaw. He parted his lips ready to say something, and I held up my palms.
“Just a joke. An observation is all.” I pulled from the wood pile two branches; strong, sturdy and to my liking.
Karson lined me up for attack; he arched a brow. “You sure you want to work with two weapons today”
“Em I allowed to?”
“Of course. You are training. You just might not like the combination they offer.” He swung in on the same count he started with. Strike, turn, block, turn, strike, turn, twist—
I knocked him three times on the first strike.
My two branch attack was able to hold off his strikes and block, twice as easy. When he went for my shins, I was able to block with my left and block with my right as he came in for my shoulder allowing me to strike his ribs with my left.
He inclined his head. “Okay then. Two branch attacks it is.”
He didn’t hold back then. I wasn’t able to get a hit on him after that moment. It was nothing but the hollow thunck of the branches as they clashed together. Everything he dished was a block and not to my surprise, he hit me more times, than I hit him. Unlike yesterday, he returned to his fake hit that had me blocking something that wasn’t there. In the span of yesterday and today something had shifted in his actions, his mood, and mine. We might have made progress as friends, as a mentor and tutelage should. My crush had stayed where it was, not moving away, or onwards. It was nothing but a crush on the one person I could never have romantically. Deep down an unspoken vowel had been made.
Faith.
The morning walk passed with small talk on history. The time of man’s discovery, and the worships of many different gods in Dangora, though now most spoke of Drae’Gon who was all and everything. Karson was trying to get me to open up about my beliefs on life and death. It worked for a while.
“Walt never pushed me into the praying or worshiping of Gods. He said that I was to make my own minds on the truth of gods and that in the end all we had was Dangora herself. She is the one true creation of things we see and touch. Not a being who has no image, but the one, I deemed worthy.”
“Why do you call him Walt?” This question had me blinking in surprise. “He is your father, is he not?” We stopped by a stream and I heaved a deep breath.
“Yeah. He just said that I need not call him dad.”
“Why? Ryders are known by their children as a first name, not town’s people.”
I stared at Karson hard, sucking in a deep breath.
“I know what you’re doing Karson
. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Talking about what?” He acted as if bugs flying around were more interesting than looking at me.
