In The Beginnings (Chapter 2)

Tink, tink, tink...

I listen closely to the sound of water hitting the metal pan. I listen solely to the pattern, thinking of nothing else. I just woke up, and I haven't opened my eyes. Finally, I let other thoughts come to me, pushing the noise of the leak to the back of my mind.

"I've got to get that fixed," I grumble to myself, pulling into a sitting position. I look down at my shirt and sigh. I've got to wash it again. I hate washing clothes.

Looking around the cramped shed, I notice Blare is already gone. Squinting through the crack in the door of the shed I see it's not yet late enough for him to be working. I'm not too worried, knowing him. Probably looking for more work. I sigh again and stand, relishing in the feeling of stretching my stiff, sore muscles. A small, pleasant groan is rewarded. Using my fingers, I comb my hair, push it out of my face and pull it into a bun, tying it back with string.

I kick my pillow aside and pick up the bone shiv Blare made me. I never go anywhere without it. I toss it once in the air and carefully tuck it under my vest. I turn and look at the little gray pan we use to catch the leaking water. Cupping the water into my hands, I take a deep drink. Even though the reflection isn't crystal clear, I can see the dirt on my face. I scrunch my nose and dip the tail of my shirt into the water and rub the grime from of my face. Well, I may not look as good as the girls from Ms. Ryder's School for Etiquette and Arts, but at least I don't look like a mud troll. I smile as I imagine the snooty "Ryder Girls" getting soaked in mud. They could use some humility.

After I’ve prepared to start my chores, I back out of the shed door, supplies in hand, and pause, feeling the cold droplets of water running down my neck and back. To describe it as a "shower" was too exaggerated, but to call it sprinkling was not enough. Enough to feel the newness in each drop. Enough to feel invigorating and refreshing. Turning my face to the sky, I let the water wash down my face and hair. I can smell the mountains and sky in its mist.

I stop to adjust my load of supplies many times on the way to Mr. and Mrs. White's door, making slow progress. Yet there was no sin as the rain beckoned for me. It could only call from the heavens. Balancing a pail and washrag on my arm, I pull open the door and use my foot to keep it open as I, once again, readjust my supplies. However, as I turn to enter, Blare is barreling into me. Both I and the supplies were pitched into the mud. I lay momentarily breathless and stunned. However, my daze is short lived, as Blare pulls me to my feet. He continues, still holding my wrist, pulling me behind him. 

"Blare, what's goin-"

"We have to go, now." He was moving as he said it, looking ahead. Urgency tainted his voice.

"But, Blare, why?" I stand where I am, not defiantly. Just shocked.

He turns and looks at me. His face is painted with fear and anger. He's panting. I assume from running.

"Rylee. Now." I trust Blare. As he runs, I follow, not once looking back. 

We run, going far, yet going nowhere. We've long left the Groen. We're somewhere in Brel Forest. Deep into the dense thicket.  I feel like I'm going vomit. Everything hurts. My legs don't feel like they're moving right. They feel like they aren't there. I don't feel the brier thorns we run through, I don't feel the sticks or dirt. I can't go on. I can't. I stumble over my own legs, breathing so hard I'm not even able to cry out as I fall. I catch myself on a large tree, scraping my hands raw. Before I can regain my composure, thick sour bile pours from my mouth and nose. I sit, still panting. Blare is already at my side. 

"Rylee, what's wrong? Rylee, tell me." His voice is husky with worry and exertion, but I'm sure if I hadn't stopped, he would still be going.

" I .. can't run...anymore." I speak between gasps, and I start to cry. Big crocodile tears. What the hell is wrong with me? Blare pulls me into a strong hug, slightly rocking. Almost fatherly. My lungs finally start to work right, and I can breath. I taste what's left of the bile in my mouth and lean away, ready to be sick again. When I'm sure nothing is going to come up, I  rest on my knees. "Where are we, Blare?"

He stares at me for a moment, then chuckles half-heartedly. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or worried.

"We're outside of Groen, in Brel Thicket I think," He trails off, glancing around. He's got us lost. "We won't stay here long, though. If we keep going," He hesitates, "that way, we should come out at Ultar Vass. For now, let's just, uh, rest for the night." He nodded and set himself to pushing piles of wet leaves into a pile.

" Blare?'

"Yes, Rylee?"

"It's the middle of the day."

"Oh, well then we shuold keep going. Can you walk?" He slightly tilts his head. He looks so boyish out here. His forhead glistens slightly with sweat from the run, and he has a little stick in his hair. Even though he isn't smiling, he isn't quite frowning and looks innocent.

"Yea, but just walking, please?" I inwardly cringe at how weak my voice sounds. I have no reason to whine. It's my own damn fault I can't keep up.

He coughs, two wet, racking noises. Probably from the run. He smiles lightly, the skin around his eyes wrinkles loosely, his blue eyes twinkle. He turns and continues in a straight line away from Groen. There was a lot of land between here and there.

The rain goes from a drizzles to a sprinkle, and eventually it stops altogether, but the air is still damp and heavy. As soon as the sun reaches the horizon, I was long ready to rest. 

"We'll stop here. Rylee start kicking together some leaves. We can cover up in them." His voice was uncertain and a bit hesitant, but he didn't change his mind. As soon as he says that, I nearly scream with joy. Before I can, my curiosity comes back in waves.

"Blare, why are we here?" I look at him, reading everything I can. As his expression goes from thoughtful to intense, I know it was more than a change of heart that compelled him to drag us into the muddy woods.