by Eva Natsumi
The fire was small and unsteady but warmed Saye nevertheless. She fell to a fitful sleep in Soul’s lap. Soul was very tired, and sleep would have meant the promise of quieting the pain in his cut hands, yet indeed he did not sleep for instead he watched Saye to see if she conquered the night.
The next morning Saye seemed much better. She was able to sit on her own, and she did so. Both Soul and Saye enjoyed an hearty breakfast of the messenger boy’s treat. In his pack they found fresh fruits, cured meats, and summer juices. Breakfast odors wafted through the forest, aromas of toasted bacon and spent oranges.
“I found this in the pack last night. It was sealed in fabric.” Soul reached in to his breast and retrieved a small, brass key. “It resembles no craftsmanship that I know.”
“It isn’t Aranean,” Saye mused. She placed down an apple and reached for the key. Soul shook his head gently in frustration. “I know, it is unique.”
Saye ignored him, turning the key around in her fingers. “I’m sure it’s something ominous.”
“Now in the wake of all things ominous, vigilantism doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Assuming the people want a vigilante.” The last night had been a fitful, unrestful sleep for Saye. She dreamed nightmares of present, past, and future. Her and Soul were in an underground world bearing a striking resemblance to the United Kingdom of Araneis. It made sense as only dreams do. UKA citizens were surging them in an attempt to purge them from the realm. Saye and Soul were fighting them off so as to defend a giant, faceless person behind them. Strung up in webbing, the thing was accoutered with the royal plaque. They tossed one citizen away only to stumble upon another. As they fought, the world transformed around them and it became nothing more than a giant dirt pit. “You can’t talk your way out of a hole,” Soul shouted, fending off more of the horde. Saye had waked just as the horde closed in on them.
“I’m always assuming,” Saye whispered, eyeing the carvings of the key. The dream had left an inky residue on her soul, regardless of her waking.
“We left and made the Under World because of UKA corruption and misdeeds,” Soul ruminated.
“Jokes on you.” Saye laughed and then immediately winced, clutching her arrow wound.
“What’s this now?” Soul asked, indicating toward Saye’s wound. It was grayish-green and looked to be cultivating an infection. Puss seeped delicately from her shoulder. He withdrew her hand from its clutch and unfurled the bandage. “How long has it been like this?” Beneath the bandage it was even more grotesque. Yellow and grey puss festered. It appeared fuzzy like a peach. Soul lifted Saye’s arm sideways to peer closer and she winced, shrugging him off nonchalantly.
“Princesses don’t die.”
Saye traced her fingers across the smooth of Soul’s skin. Her palm danced along his jaw line as gracefully as if it were a contra line. However graceful, he could remove no eye from the wound. Soul felt with each movement she just narrowly avoided skirting the enemy line.
“In your reality, Soul,” Saye said, easing carefully toward him and clutching her left shoulder. Soul caught her carefully and placed her on his lap. He eyed the greying wound with disconcertion. If the wound was not managed quickly, it would mean dire consequences. They were in No Man’s Land, fugitives of both the United Kingdom of Araneis and the Under World. Who would see to them? Saye leaned forward that her blood and pus soaked bandage shared his skin. Wincing yet also swatting away his concerned hand, she lifted her arm and stroked the nape of his neck. With tongue in her cheek, she dangled the small, ancient looking key in between his eyes and whispered: “What is your move?”
***The End***
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