The wagon ride dragged out over days uneventfully as I spent the time either being fussed over or asleep. Traveling is so boring I hope this doesn’t happen often; the road is just one long line of snooze-infesting sights. Just hours and hours of nothing. I guess it’s better than being attacked or whatever, but ughhhhhhhhhh.

The air smells heavy and wet. Makes me wrinkle my nose.

“Is siht het ahpt mah’re supposed to tlhap? This goes over the qi, doesn’t 'oh ¹Is this the path we’re supposed to take? This goes over the bridge, doesn’t it??” My most familiar stranger is asking something; her tone goes up at the end…maybe she’s nervous about the weather. Smells like a storm coming.

What does a storm approaching smell like and why do I know it?

“Joh, if tlhih wanna yit the les of the way to the Westville vaj 'e'’s on tlhih; this is the fastest 'ej safest he to nuqdaq tlhih ‘neh ghaj to jah’; pol yapping 'ej jih’ll toss tlhih 'ej 'e' gutter rat to ghoj to qal.² Lady, if you wanna walk the rest of the way to the Westville then that’s on you; this is the fastest and safest route to where you ‘just have to go’; Keep yapping and I’ll toss you and that gutter rat to learn to swim.” The unkempt man snarled back, evidently angry about being questioned about driving in this weather. Seriously are neither of these people smelling this?

Clouds are gathering quickly, and the hair on the back of my neck twitch upwards. 

“Qo' need to buq aingpy uocrsstme, jih was neh worried btaou hte tbyalisit of the qi- 'oh hasn’t been receiving leh since the maj king Joham. Vaj.³ No need to threaten paying customers, I was just worried about the stability of the bridge- it hasn’t been receiving maintenance since the good King Joham. So,” her voice dropped to a feral-sounding growl “Buq my kid again 'ej legh nuqjatlh happens to mah both.⁴Threaten my kid again and see what happens to us both”

The man makes some sort of grumble but neither of them speak as the wagon approaches a low bridge. The river laps at the edges of the bridge, wetting them. 

The two of them twitch as a roll of thunder rumbles above us. Lightning flashes a slap across the sky as water pelts down savagely. I duck under Mom’s cloak as the rush of water grows louder.

“Mah should pull off 'ej tu' shelter till the mud settles!⁵ We should pull off and find shelter till the weather settles!” She shouts at the man, who doesn’t respond beyond a stubborn shake. He evidently decides to elaborate,

“Vabdot if jih wanted to, the patrols are bound to tu' mah if mah stay still 'ej jih’d rather drown than ghaj 'e' bastard of a noble tlhap my goods- tlhih wanna jah vaj hop off, 'ach jih’m patlh forward!⁶ Even if I wanted to, the patrols are bound to find us if we stay still and I’d rather drown than have that bastard of a noble take my goods- you wanna go then hop off, but I’m standing forward!” He shouts against the wind.

I feel the body under me tense and shift. Arms circle me tightly as Mom falls silent.

The wind begins to howl.

The wagon tak-taks onto the stone, squelching in puddles. I peek out and see a stream of water rushing between the stone railing across.

The wind is howling.

I look out and see the river surging against itself, looking as though monsters are fighting inside it. The man urges his animal even further, whipping it every few seconds.

The noise is deafening, I want to cover my ears but my hands are clenched white-knuckled against Mom’s shirt. I want- I want something. What do I want? I want to not be here, I want to-

A thunderous crack seems to open the sky, a blinding white that covers the dark in a harsh light, surgical in its disastrous hatred. My eyes ache as I see a surging wave approaching and all I can do is hold tightly.

The wave crashes frankly against the wagon, and I feel a weightless pit drop in my stomach as the wheels disconnect ever-so-slightly from the slippery stone. The wagon crunches back to the ground and the man shouts as the goods shift and fall from the rough movement. He’s frantically hitting his beast but even as it’s braying in fear and scrabbling its hooves against the bridge in an attempt to escape this disaster, it’s just not fast enough. Not for this.

Another wave surges, knocking Mom and me against the opposite side of the wagon. The wheels have lost traction, and are sliding to the far side of the bridge, close to the water. Mom is gripping the soaking-wet sides of the wagon and my belt with trembling arms and she pulls me closer to her body just as a third and largest wave floods against the wagon, causing it to tip even further. The belt snaps.

I am falling.

I catch myself- barely! Just barely, clinging to the stone handrail, scrabbling against the slimy algae coating the rocks. 

“Sybil!” Mom howls, eyes wild as she lunges toward my clinging body. I reach out for her hand, arching my quickly tiring body towards her as I try to throw myself towards her safe arms.

A comparatively smaller waver rushes towards me and smacks me directly in the face. I turn my head away instinctively so that I could breathe but my grip fails.

The water runs powerfully and takes me with it.

The last thing I hear is my name screeched as the water roars around me.

HelloHound

Say Bye to Sybil's Mom Everyone!