The makeshift shelter was far less comfortable than what I had grown used to. With Lumo, the magicked tents held padded bedrolls, down pillows, with cots propped off of the rocky ground, I had been spoiled. Here, with Ciro, the accommodations were much less hospitable. We had set up a sordid camp which included our bedrolls and a large, earth-toned canvas tarp propped up with a few crooked sticks. Ciro explained that it would provide cover, camouflaging us from any unsavory characters who might come our way. With no tree cover nearby, we laid down in the tallest grass we could find.
We had a light meal under the low tarp ceiling, consisting of fish-jerky and dried fruits that Ciro had packed. While we ate, we carefully created as many wards as we could manage, using whatever loose branch and thick grass we could find until the light grew too dim for us to continue. Ciro refused to start a fire for light, as the smoke would give away our position. The closer we got to the front-lines, the more dangerous, and he did not want to take any chances.
As I finally lay down, head heavy on the makeshift grass pillow, I felt just how sore I really was. Although the distance between Ciro’s home on the shore and our destination would be swift under any other circumstance, we had to weave our path back and forth, hiding any trace or trail, as we made our way southeast. Thankfully, by Ciro’s estimation, we would be there sometime in early light.
Ciro had lowered our makeshift ceiling even lower as we both readied ourselves for the night ahead, in hopes that the low cover between the grass could keep us better hidden. Although Ciro assured me that he would stay awake for as long as he could manage, only a few moments passed before the slow and quiet snores came from the bedroll beside me. I turned, seeing his eyes closed, hand still wrapped tightly around his halberd, forever at the ready.
I turned back, settling into the cool grass beneath my head. The tall reeds around us made a gentle whooshas they swayed with the gentle breeze. Every so often, the wind would pick up, just a little, causing the canvas above to make an odd warbling noise, shocking me awake every time I felt close to sleep.
With another frustrated turn, I switched from my back to my side, facing the dark grass, swiping it away as the wind blew tiny strands into my face. As soon as I seemed to fade into sleep, something would jar me awake yet again. Exhausted, I let my eyes drift, staring into the swaying grass beside me, feeling them grow heavy as they tried to make shapes in the darkness. The wind seemed to rock me, as I fell into beat with the waves of winds, swirling through the grass and under the low canvas cover.
My heavy eyes spotted something small, a tiny shadow, weaving between the long stalks in practiced jumps. Perhaps a field mouse? It was hard to make out in the dark, and I was far too exhausted to focus on it for very long. My steady blinks grew slower and slower, watching the small shadow dance, back and forth between the weeds. It danced closer and closer, but perhaps my tired eyes were just playing tricks on me.
My eyes finally closed, surrendering into the dark once more. Finally.
It was then that I felt another blade of grass tickle my nose. I gave a frustrated sigh and swatted it away absently. Then it happened again. I groaned in frustration, opening my eyes, to find, in my horror, that it was not a blade of grass, but a finger that had been touching my face.
Only a breath away from me was an odd, smiling face. Even in the dark, I could see blackened eyes, with soot-colored veins trailing over youthful yet sullen features. Bright red hair beamed even in the dark of the canvas in a shaggy mop around his face.
There was part of me that still thought I might be dreaming, a mere night terror to accompany the stress of the sleepless evening. But all of my hopes were swiftly destroyed as the face spoke.
“Hello,” he spoke softly, haunting smile beaming through the dark.
It was then that I screamed, bolting upright, bringing the canvas upwards with me. I threw it off in large, uncoordinated, sweeps of my armored arms, unfortunately letting it pile upon the once-sleeping Ciro.
“What? What is it?” Ciro coughed awake, slight panic in his voice as he struggled to get the heavy fabric off himself.
“Who are you?” I stammered as I pulled the cover off of Ciro.
I looked down, only to find the man crouched down over our small bag of supplies, casually emptying it out on the ground to take inventory in the moonlight. I watched him frown, blackened eyes furrowed as he threw our remaining bag of dried fruit to the side. It was then that I spotted the tiny shadow from before, now revealed in the moonlight to be a small rat-like creature, as it jumped eagerly to the dried fruit - eagerly stuffing its face in excitement.
Ciro was standing now beside me, finally free from the bedroll and tent. With a quick, deliberate movement, I watched eyes wide as he raised the heavy halberd’s sharp blade only a hair away from the intruder’s neck.
But the red-haired man did not flinch, continuing his unbothered search through our meager belongings. He did not even care to look up.
“Leave. Now. While you still have your head,” grunted Ciro through his teeth.
Only then did the intruder stop to look up at Ciro.
His eyes shown no white - only a glossy black, that seemed to bleed into the rest of his face and over his low brow. I watched, stomach sinking, as he smiled again. When Ciro caught sight of his face, his demeanor immediately changed. I watched, unsure of what to do, as Ciro made slow steps backwards, crunching over the long blades of grass. He raised his weapon backwards, before placing a hand in front of me, pushing me away.
“Mira, step back,” Ciro whispered over his shoulder. He then turned back to the intruder who had now taken an interest in our leftover fish jerky. I watched, bewildered, as he tore a piece off with his teeth, still looking through the rest of our pack absently, if we weren’t there.
“Just take what you want, then leave,” Ciro said, holding his weapon at the ready. “We’re just passing through.”
“No,” the intruder said, mouth full of our food.
I turned to Ciro, unsure what to do next, but I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“What do you want?” Ciro asked.
It was then that the intruder stopped chewing, looking up at both of us in silent consideration.
“What do you think, Doris?” the man asked the rodent at his side as he picked at his teeth.
“Ah, right,” the man smiled before turning to us again. “I want the girl’s armor.”
I shook my head.
I watched, to my surprise, as Ciro turned to me and gave a little nod.
Well? He seemed to ask.
I felt my jaw grow tight. How could Ciro even consider that an option? Was he joking? Why would I give up my armor to this boy? He could barely be my age.
I shot Ciro a look. This armor was one of my only defenses out here- not to mention the lengths it took to retrieve it. It was two of us against one - what was there to be afraid of? We were both blood mages.
“No,” I seethed, turning my gaze from Ciro to the young man in front of us.
The intruder raised his eyebrows, amused.
“Right,” he coughed, clearing his throat, before slowly standing. He brushed his hands off on his already dirty trousers before crossing his arms. He then turned to Ciro.
“A bit of a daft one, isn’t she?” the intruder said, chuckling.
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep.
Perhaps it was the needle prick of yet another person telling me just stupid I was.
All of the rolling eyes, all of the smug chuckles. I was never quite in on the joke, was I?
No, I had quite enough, and the silent fire that brewed at every slight alighted with this new tinder. I was not to lower my head and apologize this time.
No, not this time.
I watched my own hand raise in front of me, pale hand in the light of the moon.
“Mira, no!”
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