Young Writers Society

There was a crackling sound just out of reach, and something metal scraping against metal. There was a warmness in the air, and yet Carris felt frigid. After several attempts she pried her eyes open, squinting at the dingy light coming from a fire to her right. She could barely feel her arms tucked against her sides, buried beneath several thick blankets. Someone across the small thatch hut was hunched over a short table, doing something that was causing the clanging sound. 

Carris grunted as she attempted to move her arms, feeling weariness weigh them down. The figure hadn’t seemed to notice her awake. Who was it?

Where am I?

For a moment Carris panicked, thinking it must be a Sadorian. The though flashed across her mind that the last thing she had remembered was being overtaken in the river. Would Eridan or Jacoby really care to drag her out, and if so, why would they have kept her alive?

She opened her mouth in an attempt to call out, figuring she might as well find out, but her throat was dry and nothing escaped save for a squeak followed by a fit of coughing. That got the figure’s attention and they turned around. It was an older man, scruffy and wrinkly but with bright eyes and a rigid, upright posture. He squinted past the fire and smiled, revealing a nearly toothless mouth. Muttering something that Carris could not understand, he scooped up a metal cup from the small table and came to her bedside.

Carris could smell the faint aroma of mint. The man put a hand to the back of her head and gently lifted her up so that she could take a sip of the steaming drink. Carris realized that she could barely open her mouth because her lips were so swollen, but she was able to take a quick sip before dropping back down onto a rough pillow. The hot liquid ran down her throat too quickly and she sputtered over it. The coughs wracked her body for several seconds. The man put the cup on a nightstand which Carris hadn’t noticed previously. She shuddered as the warmth left and despite the blanket the chill remained. She gave her voice one last try.

“Where am I?” she managed to whisper. Her mouth was so dry.

The old man retrieved a chair from the table and returned with it and a small wooden bowl. When he spoke Carris winced as his voice rang out loud but not entirely clear due to the lack of teeth.

“You’re in Astoria,” he said as he plopped down in the chair. He held up the bowl. “This is a little concoction I’ve made myself to help rejuvenate your spirits! It does wonders for me,” he grinned.

Carris noticed that his eyes seemed perpetually squinted and yet wide-eyed, as if glaring at something in the distance with shock. Perhaps he had rejuvenated his spirits one too many times.

“Where in Astoria?” she said.

The man helped her up to take another sip of what Carris guessed was mint tea. This time was much more successful.

“You’re just outside of Riverdale. Lovely town it is in the spring when the trees are a’blooiming and the children are frolicking about and laughing.”

Carris hesitated. “Uh, yes, I’m sure it is. How far from Atheron?”

The man scratched the back of his neck as he wandered back to the table. He began to open cabinets and procure bowls and bags from which he produced eggs and some sort of meat chunk. Carris inhaled slowly. He took so long to answer. Despite being ten feet away his voice more than compensated the distance.

“Can’t say exactly. Been a long time since I went that far east. Must’ve been at least two decades ago. Course that was when I was a young lad. Well, anyway that’s what Mable always said.”

He began to talk to himself with the occasional chuckle as he cracked the eggs and whisked them in a bowl.

Carris could feel her throat becoming raspy again. She was so dehydrated. How long had she been unconscious, and how far away was she from Atheron and Gwyn and Eridan?

“What would be your best guess?”

Again there was a long pause as the man headed for the fire with the bowl in hand. The smoke spiraled out of a hole in the roof, and Carris now noticed that the sky was pitch black. The old man poured the whipped eggs into a skillet hung across the fire that crackled with warmth.

“Best guess? Least a twenty miles. That where you came from? That’s an awful long time to float down that river. Explains the bruising though.”

Carris frowned. “Bruising?”

“Yes ma’am. Up and down your arms and legs and stomach. Must’ve hit lots of branches and ice. Lucky to be alive if you ask me. Laura says you must have quite a tough heart.”

Carris shrugged, or attempted to, but she could barely move, buried in the blankets as she was. She could feel just how sore she was, and she guessed that if she could move she would be able to feel the bruising quite easily as well. She contented herself with staying put. She could feel a yawn coming on and her eyelids became heavy. She fought to keep them open, blinking rapidly.

“How fast can I get there?”

The old man laughed. It was wheezy and loud, and Carris grimaced because there was a tone to it that told her that the answer would not be to her liking. He slapped his hand across his knee.

“Girl, it’ll be quite some time before you’re up and going. I’d say a couple weeks before it’s safe to send you on your way.”

“Weeks?” Carris blurted out, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. “I can’t wait weeks! I have friends that need help. Well, a friend anyway. And I need to get to Atheron.”

Carris recoiled at the thought of Gwyn heading to Atheron with Eridan unchecked. What if he overthrew the city? Devlin would be leading Gwyn straight into a bloodbath.

The man spread his hands out wide. “I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen. For now, you need to get rest and build back your strength. Laura will be here in the morning to help uh, well, lady things I suppose,” he trailed off quietly. “Been a long time since there was a lady around here. Not since Mable.” His voice was softer now.

Carris pursed her lips before speaking. “Well, if I’m going to be here for a while, we might as well call each other by our names. I’m Carris,” she said, at last dragging her arm out from underneath the blankets. she could feel an overwhelming wave of soreness tug at her shoulder, and as the man clasped her hand with his own rough but gentle hand, she could feel pain pulse from fingertip to shoulder.

“Alec,” he grinned.