4 | Blood Spilled

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Restless sleep was nothing new for Gidren, but it was no less miserable each time he found himself staring up into a starless sky in the dead of night. The inky pool of black only served to mirror his own thoughts back to him, the fragments and pin pricks of old memories that flash through his head in disordered patterns. Somehow, they made even less sense coming back after the first glimpse.

The visions aligned themselves in jagged edges, sharp recollections that embedded themselves in the softest parts of his mind. Those white walls, the blood. It was on his hands — where did it come from? Who else was left bleeding in his wake?

He jolted upright from his bedroll, his frame tense. His vision blurred as he scanned the camp, prepared to bolt — until he saw Brynna, wide awake, her eyes focused directly on him.

"I hope you weren't planning on taking a midnight run."

---

Tension held itself in Gidren's muscles, almost more than before, as Brynna stared him down the way a mountain cat sized up its frozen prey. His desire to bolt from the camp dissipated, but he knew that even if he tried, he'd be caught in an instant. He shook his head at the comparison he forged in his own mind, his tension releasing as he bid the thought perish and drop from his thoughts. Sharp as she was, he had no desire to see her as the predator in his journey — that role was very well occupied by... well, he wasn't exactly sure whom or what.

"I wasn't expecting you to be so awake." Gidren shifted uncomfortably as the ache set into his body, following his adrenaline-fueled awakening. He clumsily dropped himself back down, first on one elbow, then flopping to the ground on top of his arm. It wasn't very pleasant, but it felt better than sitting upright.

"Unfortunately, I did expect you to be." Brynna softened her gaze as Gidren settled back down, but maintained her watch with some concern as he adjusted his position in the bedroll repeatedly, never finding one to rest in. "You're not getting to sleep unless you wear yourself out the way you usually do, huh? Maybe I should have let you run off somewhere, just to get that energy out."

"I'm not a mutt, Brynna."

"Of course not. I was thinking something like a purebred city dog."

Gidren released a deep sigh, rolling onto his back. His head turned just enough to give Brynna a bitter side eye, but he did a poor job of tucking away the smirk summoned by the late night banter. Even if her jokes made him want to push her over sometimes, he couldn't argue that the levity wasn't all that was keeping him from drowning in his own sea of loss. Not knowing what he might find in that sea to begin with, made the prospect of losing himself to it hard to bear without her well-placed distractions.

Without another word, Brynna rose with her satchel in hand, packing away supplies. Gidren watched, confused, but stopped himself from asking what she was doing several times before it finally slipped out, "Brynna, what are you packing for?"

"You're not sleeping. I'm not sleeping..." she trailed off, her attention spirited away by a misplaced item that she now searched for. She let her thought dangle in the air this way until she found it — one of her many hunting tools — then circled back. "If that's the case, I think it's best we pick up camp and start moving. We have our sights set, don't we?"

"You want to go tonight?" Gidren posed the question, but his friend neglected to answer. She kept packing her things, so Gidren took his cue to begin doing the same. He looked up at her periodically as he packed, trying to get any insight as to what she was thinking. There was no rush to her actions, no haste in her movements. She took her time gathering materials and rations, tucking them into her satchel in neat, organized pockets. The only thing he could read from her was determination. What exactly that meant, or where it stemmed from, he couldn't be sure in that moment.

"We won't reach the city in a night. In fact, I think it would be an awful idea to even try it if we could." Brynna cut the silence with the statement, spoken abruptly and bluntly. "Aurel is a big city. The outskirts are even bigger. Camping around outside might help jog something for you."

"Have you been there before?" Gidren regretted asking the question before Brynna could even look up at him with her soured expression.

"If we're walking into that city, it's not going to be clueless." Another question, artfully dodged. Her logic was sound, though, no matter its basis.

Camp was about picked up, bedrolls tucked away. With a few more additions to their packs, it was time to get moving.

---

Map of Arsavela by Strixxline

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Trade didn't sleep much in the kingdom, it seemed, as traversing the citybound roads had the pair crossing paths with several merchant carriages and caravans. Even farmers, transporting their harvests under the cover of night, passed Gidren and Brynna by as they pulled their crop-laden handwagons to their next stops. The traffic was a curiosity for Gidren, who would have thought that the night would be a prime time for dangerous travel. Did bandits not lurk in the shadows, opportunists lying in wait for a frail merchant or a broken cart to grace their path? The gazes they were met with from passersby told him that the pair's presence on the roads surprised them just as much as the merchants surprised him. They all must have thought themselves to be the only ones on the road this night.

These roadways were nothing like the obstacle-filled hazards they walked to reach their camp in the north for all this time. They were not impeccably kept, but kept they were, nonetheless. Paved with stones that sat mostly in place, gaps and cracks filled with sediment and small stones to preserve walkability and keep wheels from jamming, this road was a far cry from the jagged and forgotten paths of the Northlands that Gidren had come to know.

As they continued down the road, Gidren took note of the faces he saw passing by. No one felt familiar to him; the eyes that met his were all strange to him, unknowns in a grand pool of faces and souls he may have never met before, nor will meet again. If he did recognize someone, how would he react? He silently pondered the question in his own mind, considering the possible outcomes of a madman gripping at the robes of an unsuspecting merchant passing through the kingdom, as he cried out his familiarity and begged for answers the poor traveler may not even have.

---

by Strixxline

He did not have much time to brush aside the self-inflicted secondhand embarassment before he heard Brynna's breath hitch for a moment. It was quick —a brief tell that she had seen something that she wasn't excited to see. Looking up, all Gidren saw was yet another caravan, not unlike any of the others they had encountered in their long walk south. However, as he looked back to Brynna, he could see her clenching her jaw, as if steeling herself for an encounter. He straightened up his posture, coughing as he did so. Clearing his throat and walking with his head high, he aimed to match her hardened demeanor.

Approaching from the opposite direction was a caravan of traders and travelers, some walking alongside wagons, some sleeping upon the vehicles. All Northlanders, it seems like, Gidren noted, while taking a headcount. Six walking, four sleeping... how many more were inside the wagons? As the caravan neared, its leader separated from the pack to walk towards Brynna and Gidren, the remainder of the travelers coming to a halt to wait for her return.

"Well, would you look at that!" Brynna bristled at the sound of her voice, her greeting laced with the tone of one greeting a child. "Our little girl is all grown up, isn't she?" Laughter followed from the forward crew of the caravan. No familiar faces, Gidren thought. At least not for me.

"I'm glad to see you're doing well for yourself, Yara." Brynna's response was cold, delivered with arms crossed and a touch of poison on the tongue. She gave Gidren a passing glance, a quick nod to ease his growing worry. No doubt she could feel the fear beginning to well up inside of him, as they came to be surrounded by a strange caravan crew, a fear fueled even more by Brynna's preemptive shift in energy.

"Oh, is that really how you greet family? Did your absence not make the heart grow fonder?" Yara tutted her tongue and forced a pout, further drawing out the condescension dripping from her words. Family? Gidren studied her face, seeking similarities between her features and Brynna's but found none. As he stared, Yara shifted her attention from Brynna to Gidren with a sudden movement, enough to make the man jump — but he played it off as a shift in posture. Yara was an older woman, with the characteristic strong Northlands build and weathered gear. She had some weight to her, and stood taller than Brynna, who Gidren already felt towered over him; his perpetual slouch didn't help him much in that regard. "I'd have thought your tastes to be different, Brynna."

"We have very different ideas of what family means. You know that." Brynna fought back a scowl, keeping her contempt well-managed. She had no intention of staying in this discussion, nudging Gidren forward so that they could both sidestep Yara and her caravan. "As far as my friend here, we are headed south. No time for distractions or interruptions. I'm sure you have your own places to be."

"Oh! Making the transition to city girl, are we? That went so well last time, didn't it?" She let her words sink in for a while as she followed Brynna's steps, prancing beside her with a taunting backwards gait that matched the speed of her retreat. A grin fought its way onto her face before chipping away into a serious gaze. As Brynna hastened her steps with a huff, the older woman, now with a grave expression, caught Brynna by the arm before she could get by.

"Let us go, Yara."

"I've never denied you that right."

The two women locked eyes for a long time, which to Gidren felt was an eternity dangling in suspense. They held their silent communication in a tense staredown, until Brynna dropped her steel and Yara released her arm. "I'm listening."

"Blood stirred splashes from the pot." Shaking her coinpurse, Yara gestured to the horizon, where Aurel now sat closer than ever. "Business is good, where blood flows, but affairs are a mess. City used to be quite the destination, but you ought to see the way those guards' hands twitch over their weapons when us Northerners drop by."

"I'm sure they've always been antsy. It's nothing new." Brynna scoffed at the tip, but Gidren felt a pit of dread as Yara's words settled in his head and seemed to run through him.

"Blood stirred? Splashes... huh?"

"Does your friend live under a rock, Brynna?" Yara eyed Gidren, a mixture of dismay and disbelief on her face.

"Something like that." Brynna set a hand on Gidren's shoulder. "He's not from around here. Won't get our idioms."

"Heard." Yara set her hands on her hips and took a deep backwards stretch. "It's exactly what it sounds like, friend. The blood's literal. City affairs have been downright messy since the throne's... let's say, changing of hands." she explained, making a sweeping gesture — the axe of an executioner. "Been a few years, now. No way you missed that piece of news in all that time."

Searing pain jolted through Gidren's body as Yara gave her visual demonstration. Darkness crept into the corners of his vision, as if descending from the inky black sky above; the same sky that he spent so much time staring into back at camp, that carried his fragmented visions, now bore down on him with a deep, gnawing emptiness that pulled him to his knees. He didn't know the blade of an executioner. His head on his shoulders was testament enough to that — so why did it feel like the world was caving in on him now?

He felt a cold wetness wash over his hands and looked down at them, expecting to see them stained red. There was both grief and elation as he found nothing more than sweat and dirt coating his clammy palms. The blood wasn't on his hands. It wasn't on his hands.

"Seems that struck some kind of nerve. Not my wheelhouse." Yara gave Brynna a hearty clap to her arm and a noncommittal nod to Gidren, before turning to return to her caravan. Hand signals flew between her and the crew, who hurried to resume their travels. "Good seeing you again, Brynna. Hope it's not the last — you're always welcome home."

---

They watched the caravan disappear up the dark road, along the path they had just walked. Melancholy clung to the air, accented by the sunlight now cresting the horizon. Morning was to come soon, and the lack of sleep was catching up to Gidren and Brynna both.

"C'mon, Gids. It's long past time we made camp." Brynna helped Gidren, now with a better grasp on his senses, up to his feet. It was a gesture she was familiar with now, almost to the point of being second nature. It was always the same; Brynna threw Gidren's arm over her shoulders, and held him close enough to lift, and let him stand on his own the moment she felt he was capable of doing so — never too early, but likewise, never much later. This time, as she brought Gidren to his feet, her hold lingered, her grip tighter than usual. Gidren tentatively gave her shoulders a squeeze, letting out a silent sigh of relief as he felt the tension in her shoulders lessen, even if only slightly.

She let him go after a few lasting seconds, before setting off with haste to prepare the night's camp.

"We'll sleep through the morning, and head out again midday. Sound good?"

"That works." replied Gidren, laying down his bedroll. Their one-night camp was not as complete as their former long-term home, but they learned how to make things feel like home in no time at all. "Are you all right? That Yara lady had you on edge in a way I'd never seen before."

"Talk for the morning." Brynna looked to Gidren, exhaustion reading plain in her face. "Family in the Northlands is as rugged as the land itself, sometimes."

"Right."

Gidren slumped into his bedroll, ready to drift into sleep. Brynna was right — the long walk did wear him out enough to get some rest, finally. It took all he had to not laugh as their earlier banter came full circle. What kept him up now, however, was a strange gnawing hurt. It must have been a remnant of the seed of dread Yara's words planted in his heart, but Brynna's final words of the night stuck to him much the same.

Family was complicated. Even without the memory of his own family, he knew that fact to be true. Wherever they were — whoever they were — all he could do was hope that they were all right.

He held onto his hopes, but as the ache deepened with each moment spent thinking on the subject, he feared one day he'd find that wasn't the case. All he could do now was take heart in the company he kept, and get some rest. Another long day was ahead.