At this hour, few stir, but a stone’s throw from the Tack and Trade caravansary on the far eastern edge of town is a hotbed of activity. Travelers, traders, and their detachments of hired muscle gather in their small groups, making ready for the day. The trip to Delcaster is about a two-day journey on foot. For riders on camelback, it could be done with a hard ride from sunup to sundown, which we most certainly are not.
According to Liv, our best possible speed would be to handle the trek over two days. As a seasoned traveler, Liv has informed us of all she can about the trail ahead.
A small waystation between Waldonton and Delcaster run by the region's premiere land trade magnate is our first destination on the agenda. Nothing more than an overnight circle of palisades built by the Tack and Trade company for caravans to stop at. The fee to pitch our tent within the lesser danger of the wall would be well worth it. Fortuitously, the stay would certainly be lining the coffers of Tack and Trade in general, and not Mohsen specifically.
In order to make the best use of our time we set out as early in the morning as possible. Luck holding, we will reach the midway point before dark. For once, our gear isn’t the bare minimum required and situated with plenty of space to spare. In fact, we don't even carry rolled-up oilcloth sacks. For the foreseeable future, there will be no cloying gamey Monster meat to attract flies and mosquitoes. Instead, we are battened down with supplies.
The oppressive bedrolls we carry make for one of our heaviest burdens; each is made of woven cloth inside and a layer of leather. In comparison, those modern Earth nylon shrink-down sleeping bags would be worth their significantly lesser weight in gold if such a thing could be smuggled over to this new world.
Naturally, Liv carries the most among our little party. We will be sharing a tent, of course, and my wolven shieldmaiden partymate has so graciously decided to haul the unruly thing. Our shelter for at least tonight is a thick canvas affair, nothing like I was familiar with. Something to grin and bear if it turns out to be quite awful.
So near to town, the road leading east is well trod and cleared by several paces to either side. Still, as soon as our steps leave behind the relative safety of Waldonton’s protective ring of watch towers, we will be on full alert for ambushes.
It isn’t even an hour outside of town by the time the rhythmic turning of passing wagons or the hoofbeats of camels and water buffalo no longer break the natural call of nearby birds. We likely wouldn’t be seeing any of those again until reaching the halfway point or if one had an unfortunate breakdown. Likewise, having set out so early, if anyone departed on foot after us, their prospects of catching up to us were doubtful. We’re on our own, truly.
And it certainly feels like it.
Besides a word here or there, we mostly keep the conversation to a minimum. Even my proclivity for filling the air isn’t strong enough to overcome the early morning tiredness on top of the endless effort of carrying our heavy travel packs.
Coffee, it will cost an arm or a leg, but there is coffee waiting at the end of this trip.
Throughout the morning, as I struggle with my heavy pack, Deirdre sets our pace in front, and Liv follows easily behind. Between the two of them I’m best positioned for one of them to save my sorry behind if trouble comes knocking our way. I like to think they’re not holding back too much on my account, but I still do wonder just how quick a pace they’d be setting without me.
Along the way, our trail often veers close enough to hear the slow and steady babbling of the nearby river lapping against its banks. A helpful marker for our constant progress. They run parallel to each other, which was certainly the plan for whoever first blazed the path between these two towns.
Under our feet is the rutted hardpack of endless wagon wheels and carts churning through the area’s frequent muddy weather. Still, the road makes for a severe improvement to the unforgiving crags and shrubs of the wilderness.
The easy terrain, in addition to both Recovery and Aegis, makes for a brisk pace. Today, it also seems like the weather is holding in our favor. By Deirdre’s assurances, I know the seasons are starting to turn, and it is a coin flip whether or not our little trip will encounter winter winds or rain.
Liv, on the other hand, is only concerned for our sake. She’s used to much harsher then, or maybe just being built of sterner stuff. Her landing pad in Appenzell, as she has mentioned before, sees freezing temperatures at least three months a year.
For as much as I was worry about the hardship of today’s first leg, it ends anticlimactically. Grueling? Yes. Tiring? Absolutely, but generally not that bad. Compared to Deirdre’s tyrannical demands for daily exhausting grinds, I feel myself well acclimated to huffing and puffing for the length of a day's walking.
The real rub comes at the gates of this waystation. Sharpcut branch spikes dot a circling wall of cut timber to make for a forbidding wall. No doubt, any Monster trying to climb the defense would create both a hell of a lot of noise and take a stake or two getting inside.
For whatever reason, paying the fee to enter feels almost a little insulting. Not only did the company that owns this place leave a horrible taste in my mouth, but it is shoddy to look at.
For one, there is a refuse pile not all that far from the entrance. And second, the inside clearly amounts to very little. There are a few tents that look semi-permanent, maybe for whoever is stuck manning the place, but other than that, it is just open ground.
As Deirdre forks over the coin, I hold back my disdain. Once again, Tack and Trade disappoints. Whose fault was this one? What would the real owner of Tack and Trade say if they knew how barebones this place was?
Considering the sun is already starting to drop below the nearby treelines, none of us have much time to complain. To settle, we first needed to go and draw water. This would be the ideal time to split off and do our own things, but we all agree that while traveling safety is our first priority. The rule is, 'nobody wanders off on their own.' Well, the precise wording was closer to ‘Evelyn doesn’t wander off alone,' but I’m willing to interpret that in the best possible way.
After the water comes pitching the tent and getting ourselves a filling meal to sleep on. Liv does the former while I hover around trying to help, and Deirdre tends to the latter.
We invested in a small hotplate for travel. The enchantment will need recharging from time to time, but it beats relying on a fire.
Camp settled, and it is finally, finally time to sit down, eat, and turn in for the night. The end result, however… Looking down, my steadily rising frustration for the day jumps another tick.
A reheated baked potato and a slab of half-hot Monster steak. Our travel food needs some work.
Sitting cross-legged on both sides, I can see that Liv and Deirdre aren’t exactly on top of the world right now, either.
“At least we made good time,” admits Deirdre warily as we eat, “only one more day of this.” To which I can most certainly be thankful for too.
Liv’s done work inside the tent, a simple, drab green elongated tinagle structure. It looks pretty cozy, but then again, looks can be deceiving. After evening necessities, we’re able to crawl inside.
Beneath where we’ll be sleeping, Liv has laid out all our bedrolls. I add my robe, rolled up, for a convenient pillow. After months of a certain sort of stress, the idea of actually sleeping out here, where we might wake up to the screeching of a Monster attack, is a nerve-wracking one. Of the three of us, Liv is certainly the most relaxed and practiced in such a setting. Deirdre, too, seems to take the rough camping in stride, even if she was much more set in her town living ways. Luckily, I'm too damn tired to not at least try to clock out.
What doesn’t help with winding down for sleep is jumping at every crackle of the distant campfires or assorted noises coming from within the walls of the waystop.
The wildlife, too, should have been calming, and yet, the hoot of an owl nearly sends my heartbeat skyrocketing. A Monster might kill an animal opportunistically; even a small cache of magic is worth the effort while on their greater hunt for denser Monster or human flesh. Animals, as always, are adaptable, having honed their survival instincts to run or hide when something malformed and twisted is near. The fact that they're nearby is a good thing, but still.
My bedroll is squished between Liv and Deirdre, once again for safety reasons of course. There couldn’t be any other rationale. It's not like Liv did it on purpose or anything.
Certainly not.
These two, I swear. Getting undressed for sleep can’t have been any more awkward if they were trying. At least Liv has the good sense to strip down like a utilitarian and doesn't taunt me with her tiny little shorts and tank top for long.
In the end, I'm pressed in between both my companions. Deirdre cuddles up close with the press of our shoulders, and my hand rests securely on her arm. Liv lays in unavoidable nearness, with only a bit of thick blanket between us. Like this, safe and secure, I can almost start to nod off.
***
Sunlight isn’t what wakes me, because there is none, only a very dim glow. It’s the warmth that wakes me up. So warm. Even with the flat pack ground only being smoothed over by one layer of canvas tent and our bedrolls, it would be hard to find something more comfortable than this. This being the situation I open my bleary eyes to.
The only problem I think of with the cozy, warm world around me is just how much of a problem it’s going to be if anyone else wakes up. Shockingly, nobody cries out or scurries away as I blink myself fully into awareness. I’m afraid to move so much as an inch. I’m sandwiched tightly behind Liv by Deirdre. The halfling's face finds itself nuzzled close to the crook of my neck, and Deirdre’s chest lazily leans fully into me. Each of her little breaths tickles the hairs at the nape of my neck.
Sleeping on my side, I have apparently wrapped myself just as tightly around Liv. My arm, at some point, draped itself over Liv’s side to rest on her stomach. It’s like holding onto an oversized teddy bear—a totally ripped and warm teddy bear. All together, the three of us are about as tight-packed as can be.
Between the two of them like this, it’s like being in an oven. A delightful yet terrifying oven.
Besides the succor of warm bodies, the damnable enjoyment of everyone’s richly mingled womanly fragrance borders on too good to be chaste. Deirdre, crisp freshness despite yesterday’s long travels on the road, and Liv’s heady pinewood on leather drives me mad with comfort and something strangely close to yearning.
How did these two manage to be so close without distraction? If the heat had not woken me first, then this scent would have gotten my second. Liv surely has just as good a nose as I do, being what she is. Perhaps it was my devilish traits shining through again? I often think that this body is just slightly too sensative. Being this in tune with another’s body sounds as much a curse as a blessing.
So it wasn't just the nights Deirdre and I shared in which it felt like my sensations were overwhelming. Being close to Liv is just as intensely distracting.
Still, this isn’t exactly very appropriate, and I would never take advantage of such a situation. Carefully, I make an effort to extract myself from the compromising position. At least from Liv, obviously Deirdre is free to make a body pillow out of me whenever she wants. As I focus on Liv and slowly draw my hand away, it’s hard not to notice the distressing state my wolven teammate appears to be in.
It’s slight, but noticeable. A bit of damp sweat on her brow is the first hint. Then there is the twitching in the form of almost uncomfortably tiny jolts. It was hard to notice at first; my eyes were still adjusting to the low light. She stirs slightly as I detach myself. Clearly, she is suffering from some sort of unpleasant dream. Tentatively, once I’m free, I give her a gentle shake on her shoulder to wake her.
She doesn’t break free out of whatever dreams were ailing her lightly. Coming to with suddenly wide and fearful watery eyes, Liv starts. For a brief moment of franticness, she knocks her coverings immediately down towards her legs.
With a crock, her voice is even more grizzly than usual as she gasps. The stuttering that follows is some mix of nonsense words and something similar to ‘what’ and ‘huh.’ Sitting up now, she turns back my way, where my hand still rests on her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly as she comes to while needing to clear my throat once to even manage speaking.
Deirdre, as well, wakes up enough to inquire sleepily with a questing humming noise.
“Yeah, what time is it?” Liv returns before rubbing her hand against her eyes.
Heartbreakingly, the crack in her voice gives her away. Tears? From the very small opening by our tent front, the morning is only lit by over-the-horizon refraction, still a good hour before it's time to get up, by my estimate. Deirdre is ahead of me in answering.
“The morning will wake us; go back to sleep.” She says before leaning back heavily onto her makeshift pillow.
The few moments where Liv does nothing but steady herself hit me like a gut punch. Seeing her like this is just so unsettling. Of course anyone can have nightmares, but it’s just a side of her that feels scary and undeserved.
“Liv?” I gently call out again, this time with a heaping of concern.
Liv’s grunts noncommittally, but after another moment more curls back down onto her bedroll. The seconds creep by like agony. I want to hear her settle. I want to hear her be okay. It hurts my heart to know she’s not. Deirdre, dead to the world and having barely woken in the first place, already rests her forehead against my shoulder as she falls back asleep.
Hoping it's not unwelcome and wishing dearly that it might help soothe her even a little, I edge my hand under Liv’s cover until I discover her arm, then slide it down to take her palm in mine. When I give her a small reassuring squeeze, she squeezes back.
