stjwelding
Veteran Member
Great Chapter Pac, thanks.
Wayne
Wayne
Little Fox
- Thread starter Kritter
- Start date
Kritter
The one and only...
Little Fox
Ch. 8:
Oren pulled his chair back a few inches from the bed, and took a seat by the woman's side while she finished her tea. He’d hoped to further their conversation, but she didn’t seem to speak his language, a problem he’d never considered in his dreams. Everyone knew Dornish. It seemed inconceivable to him that she didn’t, and remarkably convenient, considering it saved her from having to answer his questions.
“Do you understand anything I’m saying?” he asked, trying to temper his irritation.
The woman ignored him, not even bothering to shake her head in the vacant way she’d done with everything he’d said in the last ten minutes. She sat up and removed the layers of blankets which covered her body, leaning forward to inspect her bandaged foot and leg. Pressing her finger against several different spots, she tested the pain, wincing whenever she found it. Then she sighed at the shredded remains of her pants, which Marie had cut up to the knee.
“Dokay miso,” she said, holding up one jagged edge and looking at him with annoyance.
“Sorry.” He grinned, understanding her sentiment. “She had to do it.”
The woman sighed and then took a deep breath, straightened her back. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her hands propping against the mattress.
“I don’t think you should try that yet,” Oren warned, throwing a hand out to stop her, but she quickly rethought the idea on her own.
“Bideez,” she whimpered, her eyes rolling in her head as she laid back against the pillow.
“Well, yeah, you haven’t eaten in a few days,” he said. “I’m low on food myself. I’m gonna need to go hunting.” His head flicked towards his rifle and then the door, and then he glared at her look of confusion. “Hunting...” he repeated with an attitude, growing skeptical of her inability to understand him.
She narrowed her eyes at his tone, and then whispered, “Ohldah,” her gaze dropping to something behind him.
Oren glanced over his shoulder and frowned at his traps. “Yeah, that was mine, sorry. But I’m a fur trader. It’s what I do.” His voice picked up a lighthearted air. “I wasn’t trying to catch you.”
The woman’s eyes darkened towards him, her expression growing serious.
“Sorry,” he said again, understanding she didn’t find it funny. “But...what were you doing out here?”
The woman continued to stare at him, studying his face, and then she turned and plumped her pillow.
“You don’t fool me, you know,” he said, grabbing her empty tea cup and bringing it over to the wash basin. He’d seen how she looked around the room in keen observation, pausing on each window, nook and beam with conniving interest. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t understand Dornish like he didn’t understand breathing. “I need to get us food,” he said, pulling on his coat and cap, hitching his rifle over his back, shaking his head at her baffled face. “Food,” he growled, making rudimentary hand gestures suggesting he was getting them something to eat. “I’ll be back in an hour. One hour.” He held up his finger.
The woman bit her lip, shrinking back against the corner of the bed, but she nodded as if she’d understood what he was saying.
--
“Do you see this?” he complained to Pea, pointing his chin back towards the cabin as he lifted a saddle across the shire’s broad back. “She’s trying to play me. She thinks I’m stupid.” He grunted as he mounted his horse, still sore from the lack of good sleep. He coaxed his horse into a trot, and slowly picked up speed, trying to clear his mind of the woman and focus on his work, but it wasn’t easy. His thoughts slipped back to when she’d sat up, her soft brown curls cascading over her shoulder. The muscles in her arms were finely toned, and yet she cupped her hands around her tea like a child. If she was a bounty hunter, like Big John had insinuated, it was to her advantage to let him think she was weak.
“It’s all an act,” Oren said, growing madder by the minute. The dirt trail he was on wove around a small stand of trees, giving view to the creek in the distance. Its babbling was a pleasant sound, as was the song of the wind in the reeds behind it, and it calmed him long enough to regain some reason. While he bent to fill his water jug, he scanned the horizon, searching for deer or bison, knowing the creek was their only source of water. Then his eyes dropped to the patch of ground where he’d found the woman and he cocked his head at it.
Slowly treading through the tall grass, he scanned every inch of area, searching the creek bank section by section and out towards the open prairie, combing around all the vegetation and rocks. After ten minutes, he finally found what he was looking for. A rolled up tarp and backpack, carefully tucked beneath a bush, next to the charred remains of campfire that had been covered over with dirt.
“Got you, Little Fox,” he said, dropping to his knees to rummage through the pack. There was two changes of clothes crammed inside and some small tins of food, as well as a map showing the creek. Oren reached to the bottom, yanking out a large leather bag that was tied closed with string. Undoing the knot, he tore the bag open, and then his eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping at the glittering tangle of jewelry inside it.
“What?” he questioned, turning the bag over and pouring it out, sifting through the plethora of golden rings and necklaces. There was women’s hat pins and diamond brooches and men’s cuff links, tie tacks and watches. Oren rocked back on his heels a moment and then he started laughing. “A hunter?” He smirked away the thought. “She’s just a common jewel thief."
Still chuckling, he shoved the items back in the pack and slipped it over his head. “Hell, those rings and necklace she’s wearing probably aren’t even hers,” he said to Pea, lifting the grazing horse's reins. And then he sucked in his breath and swiftly remounted, catching sight of a mule deer in the distance.
Ch. 8:
Oren pulled his chair back a few inches from the bed, and took a seat by the woman's side while she finished her tea. He’d hoped to further their conversation, but she didn’t seem to speak his language, a problem he’d never considered in his dreams. Everyone knew Dornish. It seemed inconceivable to him that she didn’t, and remarkably convenient, considering it saved her from having to answer his questions.
“Do you understand anything I’m saying?” he asked, trying to temper his irritation.
The woman ignored him, not even bothering to shake her head in the vacant way she’d done with everything he’d said in the last ten minutes. She sat up and removed the layers of blankets which covered her body, leaning forward to inspect her bandaged foot and leg. Pressing her finger against several different spots, she tested the pain, wincing whenever she found it. Then she sighed at the shredded remains of her pants, which Marie had cut up to the knee.
“Dokay miso,” she said, holding up one jagged edge and looking at him with annoyance.
“Sorry.” He grinned, understanding her sentiment. “She had to do it.”
The woman sighed and then took a deep breath, straightened her back. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her hands propping against the mattress.
“I don’t think you should try that yet,” Oren warned, throwing a hand out to stop her, but she quickly rethought the idea on her own.
“Bideez,” she whimpered, her eyes rolling in her head as she laid back against the pillow.
“Well, yeah, you haven’t eaten in a few days,” he said. “I’m low on food myself. I’m gonna need to go hunting.” His head flicked towards his rifle and then the door, and then he glared at her look of confusion. “Hunting...” he repeated with an attitude, growing skeptical of her inability to understand him.
She narrowed her eyes at his tone, and then whispered, “Ohldah,” her gaze dropping to something behind him.
Oren glanced over his shoulder and frowned at his traps. “Yeah, that was mine, sorry. But I’m a fur trader. It’s what I do.” His voice picked up a lighthearted air. “I wasn’t trying to catch you.”
The woman’s eyes darkened towards him, her expression growing serious.
“Sorry,” he said again, understanding she didn’t find it funny. “But...what were you doing out here?”
The woman continued to stare at him, studying his face, and then she turned and plumped her pillow.
“You don’t fool me, you know,” he said, grabbing her empty tea cup and bringing it over to the wash basin. He’d seen how she looked around the room in keen observation, pausing on each window, nook and beam with conniving interest. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t understand Dornish like he didn’t understand breathing. “I need to get us food,” he said, pulling on his coat and cap, hitching his rifle over his back, shaking his head at her baffled face. “Food,” he growled, making rudimentary hand gestures suggesting he was getting them something to eat. “I’ll be back in an hour. One hour.” He held up his finger.
The woman bit her lip, shrinking back against the corner of the bed, but she nodded as if she’d understood what he was saying.
--
“Do you see this?” he complained to Pea, pointing his chin back towards the cabin as he lifted a saddle across the shire’s broad back. “She’s trying to play me. She thinks I’m stupid.” He grunted as he mounted his horse, still sore from the lack of good sleep. He coaxed his horse into a trot, and slowly picked up speed, trying to clear his mind of the woman and focus on his work, but it wasn’t easy. His thoughts slipped back to when she’d sat up, her soft brown curls cascading over her shoulder. The muscles in her arms were finely toned, and yet she cupped her hands around her tea like a child. If she was a bounty hunter, like Big John had insinuated, it was to her advantage to let him think she was weak.
“It’s all an act,” Oren said, growing madder by the minute. The dirt trail he was on wove around a small stand of trees, giving view to the creek in the distance. Its babbling was a pleasant sound, as was the song of the wind in the reeds behind it, and it calmed him long enough to regain some reason. While he bent to fill his water jug, he scanned the horizon, searching for deer or bison, knowing the creek was their only source of water. Then his eyes dropped to the patch of ground where he’d found the woman and he cocked his head at it.
Slowly treading through the tall grass, he scanned every inch of area, searching the creek bank section by section and out towards the open prairie, combing around all the vegetation and rocks. After ten minutes, he finally found what he was looking for. A rolled up tarp and backpack, carefully tucked beneath a bush, next to the charred remains of campfire that had been covered over with dirt.
“Got you, Little Fox,” he said, dropping to his knees to rummage through the pack. There was two changes of clothes crammed inside and some small tins of food, as well as a map showing the creek. Oren reached to the bottom, yanking out a large leather bag that was tied closed with string. Undoing the knot, he tore the bag open, and then his eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping at the glittering tangle of jewelry inside it.
“What?” he questioned, turning the bag over and pouring it out, sifting through the plethora of golden rings and necklaces. There was women’s hat pins and diamond brooches and men’s cuff links, tie tacks and watches. Oren rocked back on his heels a moment and then he started laughing. “A hunter?” He smirked away the thought. “She’s just a common jewel thief."
Still chuckling, he shoved the items back in the pack and slipped it over his head. “Hell, those rings and necklace she’s wearing probably aren’t even hers,” he said to Pea, lifting the grazing horse's reins. And then he sucked in his breath and swiftly remounted, catching sight of a mule deer in the distance.
Last edited:
juco
Veteran Member
LOL Rabbit. Great, now I've got that dang tune stuck in my head again. It only took a week to dislodge it last time....
Thank you Kritter, you spin a good story and I'm enjoying this one a bunch.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you.
Kritter
The one and only...
Little Fox
Ch.9:
Oren led his horse down a worn dirt trail, dragging the large buck behind them, heading toward Big John’s farm. Dressing the deer would be easier there, as John could help him hang and gut it. Lurking amid the tall grass, the Demon silently stalked beside them, its eyes on the moving carcass. Peabody danced and snorted a half-dozen times, nervously aware of the coyote’s unwelcome presence.
“Don’t worry, Pea,” Oren said, patting his rifle. “He’s not that stupid.”
Marie emerged from the cabin door at the sound of his approach, clapping her hands with excitement. “Oh, he’s a big one, Ori,” she shouted, heading for the stable, where Big John sat sharpening his axe.
“Bountiful heaven!” Big John rose upon seeing him, removing his hat and holding it over his chest.
“Should last us the rest of this season.” Oren grinned, feeling good he could provide for them as they had done for him so many times.
Big John walked over to give Oren a pat on the back. “Impressive hunting.”
Oren shook his head and laughed. “Ah no. This guy wanted to be eaten.”
“Nothing wrong with an easy catch.” Big John smiled, bending down to untie the buck. “You’ll need to be get to the outpost soon.”
“I’ll probably go the day after tomorrow.”
“We need quite a few things. Marie will give you a list. So your woman?”
“Hanah? She’s fine, she’s awake and getting better.”
Big John’s face fell, his lips growing tight. “You didn’t give her the medicine?” he questioned, not looking up.
“She didn’t need it,” Oren said, addressing the man’s fears head on. “She’s not a danger to me, John.” Oren pulled her pack from his saddle and tossed it into the man’s hands. “I think she’s just a jewel thief.”
Big John’s wary expression didn’t change as he rummaged through the bag, pulling out a couple of the pieces, examining them closely. “And you say this bag is hers?”
“Mmhmm. I found where she camped. I’m guessing she’s on the run.”
Big John let out a long, low breath, handing him back the pack. “So she’s spoken to you?” He let his eyes linger on Oren’s face while he bent again to tie a rope to the buck’s rear legs.
“Sort of.” Oren tossed the other end over a tree limb, preparing to hoist the carcass up. “She doesn’t really speak any Dornish. All she’s said is things like ‘bideez’ and ‘ohldah.”
Big John stopped what he was doing and glanced at his wife.
“What is it?” Oren questioned.
“That’s Mazerish,” Marie said, sounding somewhat surprised. “It is the language of my homeland.”
"Isn't that out past the mountains? What would she be doing way out here?" Oren asked.
Marie lowered her eyes. "Everyone who leaves Mazer has their reasons," she said quietly.
----
The sun was already low in the sky when Oren returned to his cabin, the temperature outside plunging into the teens. He unloaded two large bags of meat from his saddle, storing most of it in his lean-to, and grabbed the last few logs from his dwindling pile.
His eyes went first to Hanah, who slept quietly on his bed under a pile of blankets, and then to the dying embers of his fire. He’d stayed too long at John’s and his home had grown cold, but there was little the immobilized woman could do about it. He dumped the fresh logs on the hearth and started a pot of vegetables and meat.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, walking a little closer while he peeled a potato, smiling down at her slumbering face. Frowning, he noticed she’d put the ‘death’ ring back on her finger. “Where did you find that?” he questioned, having thought he left it on the table. Then his eyes lifted slowly to the fireplace mantle, staring at the empty spot where he had left her dagger.
“Do I have to worry about you stabbing me in the middle of the night?” he questioned. It was a troubling thought, considering up until now, he hadn't viewed her as an adversary, but regardless of why she was there, he realized he would have to watch her more closely.
"Hanah," he said loudly, shaking her shoulder.
She stirred, her eyes blinking open, and she grumbled out, "No faydya!"
"Too bad," he said curtly, ignoring her protest, tossing the bag of jewelry on the blankets beside her. "What can you tell me about these?"
Ch.9:
Oren led his horse down a worn dirt trail, dragging the large buck behind them, heading toward Big John’s farm. Dressing the deer would be easier there, as John could help him hang and gut it. Lurking amid the tall grass, the Demon silently stalked beside them, its eyes on the moving carcass. Peabody danced and snorted a half-dozen times, nervously aware of the coyote’s unwelcome presence.
“Don’t worry, Pea,” Oren said, patting his rifle. “He’s not that stupid.”
Marie emerged from the cabin door at the sound of his approach, clapping her hands with excitement. “Oh, he’s a big one, Ori,” she shouted, heading for the stable, where Big John sat sharpening his axe.
“Bountiful heaven!” Big John rose upon seeing him, removing his hat and holding it over his chest.
“Should last us the rest of this season.” Oren grinned, feeling good he could provide for them as they had done for him so many times.
Big John walked over to give Oren a pat on the back. “Impressive hunting.”
Oren shook his head and laughed. “Ah no. This guy wanted to be eaten.”
“Nothing wrong with an easy catch.” Big John smiled, bending down to untie the buck. “You’ll need to be get to the outpost soon.”
“I’ll probably go the day after tomorrow.”
“We need quite a few things. Marie will give you a list. So your woman?”
“Hanah? She’s fine, she’s awake and getting better.”
Big John’s face fell, his lips growing tight. “You didn’t give her the medicine?” he questioned, not looking up.
“She didn’t need it,” Oren said, addressing the man’s fears head on. “She’s not a danger to me, John.” Oren pulled her pack from his saddle and tossed it into the man’s hands. “I think she’s just a jewel thief.”
Big John’s wary expression didn’t change as he rummaged through the bag, pulling out a couple of the pieces, examining them closely. “And you say this bag is hers?”
“Mmhmm. I found where she camped. I’m guessing she’s on the run.”
Big John let out a long, low breath, handing him back the pack. “So she’s spoken to you?” He let his eyes linger on Oren’s face while he bent again to tie a rope to the buck’s rear legs.
“Sort of.” Oren tossed the other end over a tree limb, preparing to hoist the carcass up. “She doesn’t really speak any Dornish. All she’s said is things like ‘bideez’ and ‘ohldah.”
Big John stopped what he was doing and glanced at his wife.
“What is it?” Oren questioned.
“That’s Mazerish,” Marie said, sounding somewhat surprised. “It is the language of my homeland.”
"Isn't that out past the mountains? What would she be doing way out here?" Oren asked.
Marie lowered her eyes. "Everyone who leaves Mazer has their reasons," she said quietly.
----
The sun was already low in the sky when Oren returned to his cabin, the temperature outside plunging into the teens. He unloaded two large bags of meat from his saddle, storing most of it in his lean-to, and grabbed the last few logs from his dwindling pile.
His eyes went first to Hanah, who slept quietly on his bed under a pile of blankets, and then to the dying embers of his fire. He’d stayed too long at John’s and his home had grown cold, but there was little the immobilized woman could do about it. He dumped the fresh logs on the hearth and started a pot of vegetables and meat.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, walking a little closer while he peeled a potato, smiling down at her slumbering face. Frowning, he noticed she’d put the ‘death’ ring back on her finger. “Where did you find that?” he questioned, having thought he left it on the table. Then his eyes lifted slowly to the fireplace mantle, staring at the empty spot where he had left her dagger.
“Do I have to worry about you stabbing me in the middle of the night?” he questioned. It was a troubling thought, considering up until now, he hadn't viewed her as an adversary, but regardless of why she was there, he realized he would have to watch her more closely.
"Hanah," he said loudly, shaking her shoulder.
She stirred, her eyes blinking open, and she grumbled out, "No faydya!"
"Too bad," he said curtly, ignoring her protest, tossing the bag of jewelry on the blankets beside her. "What can you tell me about these?"
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you 
I watch anxiously for each post of yours. This story is intriguing. Thank you!
stjwelding
Veteran Member
Kritter thanks for the new chapters, This is a great story I am really enjoying it.
Wayne
Wayne
Kritter
The one and only...
Little Fox
Ch.10:
Hanah popped up and scooted backwards, staring at the bag and then at Oren, her mouth open and eyes rounded, looking like he’d just thrown a scorpion on the bed.
“Peta nom isi,” she started babbling, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, her hands flailing about in wide gestures of explanation, none of which Oren understood. He stood with his arms crossed, listening closely, trying to discern her meaning by her tone and body language, noting she desperately wanted him to buy whatever lie she was telling. When she finished, he raised an eyebrow at her with a dubious expression.
“Oh.” She frowned and bit her lip, looking down at her hands. “Kora donya?” she tried again, glancing at him sideways.
Oren sighed, easing his stance, finding her hopeful face adorable. If he hadn’t built a fantasy around her, he could have been more resolute, but now he found himself fighting the urge to let her off with her lies. He wanted to protect her, even if she was in trouble, but deep down he knew his feelings were the product of his unrealistic dreams. She wasn’t a maiden in distress, she was a heartless crook who stole other people’s possessions, and he refused to let her think he was a sucker. “Try again,” he said stiffly.
The woman stared at him a moment, taking measure of his face, and then she lowered her head. “Io nopa breva,” she said, her eyes watering as she shrank against the wall, her voice growing markedly shallow. “Esa yona bray forday?”
Oren studied the distress in her eyes and then shook his head, looking down at the potato in his hand with frustration. He paced back towards the table and picked up a knife, paring off the rest of its skin and slicing it into quarters. She seemed genuinely afraid of his judgment, although he could only guess, having no real idea what she was saying. He threw the potato into the stew which had begun to simmer nicely over the fire.
“So...is someone chasing you or what?” he started, turning to her again, watching her eyes widen at the knife in his hand. She pressed herself harder against the wall, her own hand folding around the hilt of her dagger.
“Okay, easy,” he said, quickly raising one hand and putting the knife on the table, trying to defuse the situation. “Potatoes,” he said, grabbing one and holding it up. “I’m just cutting up potatoes, okay?”
The woman remained frozen a second and then her tension eased, her eyes darting between his face and his hand.
“Potatoes,” he said again, reaching for another, outwardly displaying both.
The woman cocked her head at him, her face scrunching in confusion, and then she sucked in her lips and bit back a laugh.
Oren smiled back, understanding the absurdity of the situation. “Potatoes,” he repeated, rolling his eyes at himself. “That’s what makes her laugh.” It felt good though, to see her face brighten, even if it was fleeting. He rummaged through a burlap bag and pulled out his last onion. “Onion?” He held it up, watching her blink in bewilderment. “Okay, onion doesn’t work.” Taking a seat at the table, he sliced it up and started to work on a carrot, occasionally peering over at Hanah, noticing her remove several sparkly items from the bag and stowing them under her covers.
“Duke used to do that,” he said to her, catching her mid-heist. “My beagle.” He nodded at the empty dog bed by the fire. “He used to take my socks, my shoes, pretty much anything that wasn’t nailed down and hide it in that corner there. He wasn’t going to sell it, because what’s a dog gonna buy, right?” He laughed, glancing over at her puzzled face, her hand still slowly making off with another item. “In his dog mind, he just figured if he took it, that made it his.” His eyes turned back to the round, stuffed mat where Duke used to curl up every night. “He was a good dog,” he said forlornly, lingering a minute on that memory, his heart still feeling the pain.
“Oren?” Hanah softly questioned his silence, causing him to lift his head.
“Yeah,” he said in acknowledgement, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “In any case, apples and oranges. I’m going to the outpost day after tomorrow. I’ll take you there if you want to go.”
She went back to hiding the items from the bag.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, grabbing two bowls and doling them each out some stew. He went to hand her bowl to her and then paused, nodding towards her dagger. “You give me that first.”
Hanah narrowed her eyes at him, her hand going to the dagger, not in a threatening way, but in a way that showed she meant to protect it. She shook her head at his extending hand with a look of determination.
“Okay then,” he said, withdrawing the food, bringing it back to the table. “But you’re missing some really good stew.”
Hanah’s face dropped. She reached under her pillow, picking through her stowed away items and removed a gold bracelet, which she thrust in his direction.
“Uh uh.” He chuckled at her attempt. “The dagger.” He pointed again.
Her eyes darkened, her lips puckering into an angry pout, and she crossed her arms and looked away.
Oren continued to eat in silence, listening to her mumble what sounded like complaints and curses at the wall. Laying down, she tossed and turned in agitation, pulling the blanket over her head with an angry growl, and then she sat back up and glared at him.
“Got something for me?” he asked, not looking up from his food.
“Dodoros,” she seethed, taking the dagger and flinging it across the floor.
Ch.10:
Hanah popped up and scooted backwards, staring at the bag and then at Oren, her mouth open and eyes rounded, looking like he’d just thrown a scorpion on the bed.
“Peta nom isi,” she started babbling, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, her hands flailing about in wide gestures of explanation, none of which Oren understood. He stood with his arms crossed, listening closely, trying to discern her meaning by her tone and body language, noting she desperately wanted him to buy whatever lie she was telling. When she finished, he raised an eyebrow at her with a dubious expression.
“Oh.” She frowned and bit her lip, looking down at her hands. “Kora donya?” she tried again, glancing at him sideways.
Oren sighed, easing his stance, finding her hopeful face adorable. If he hadn’t built a fantasy around her, he could have been more resolute, but now he found himself fighting the urge to let her off with her lies. He wanted to protect her, even if she was in trouble, but deep down he knew his feelings were the product of his unrealistic dreams. She wasn’t a maiden in distress, she was a heartless crook who stole other people’s possessions, and he refused to let her think he was a sucker. “Try again,” he said stiffly.
The woman stared at him a moment, taking measure of his face, and then she lowered her head. “Io nopa breva,” she said, her eyes watering as she shrank against the wall, her voice growing markedly shallow. “Esa yona bray forday?”
Oren studied the distress in her eyes and then shook his head, looking down at the potato in his hand with frustration. He paced back towards the table and picked up a knife, paring off the rest of its skin and slicing it into quarters. She seemed genuinely afraid of his judgment, although he could only guess, having no real idea what she was saying. He threw the potato into the stew which had begun to simmer nicely over the fire.
“So...is someone chasing you or what?” he started, turning to her again, watching her eyes widen at the knife in his hand. She pressed herself harder against the wall, her own hand folding around the hilt of her dagger.
“Okay, easy,” he said, quickly raising one hand and putting the knife on the table, trying to defuse the situation. “Potatoes,” he said, grabbing one and holding it up. “I’m just cutting up potatoes, okay?”
The woman remained frozen a second and then her tension eased, her eyes darting between his face and his hand.
“Potatoes,” he said again, reaching for another, outwardly displaying both.
The woman cocked her head at him, her face scrunching in confusion, and then she sucked in her lips and bit back a laugh.
Oren smiled back, understanding the absurdity of the situation. “Potatoes,” he repeated, rolling his eyes at himself. “That’s what makes her laugh.” It felt good though, to see her face brighten, even if it was fleeting. He rummaged through a burlap bag and pulled out his last onion. “Onion?” He held it up, watching her blink in bewilderment. “Okay, onion doesn’t work.” Taking a seat at the table, he sliced it up and started to work on a carrot, occasionally peering over at Hanah, noticing her remove several sparkly items from the bag and stowing them under her covers.
“Duke used to do that,” he said to her, catching her mid-heist. “My beagle.” He nodded at the empty dog bed by the fire. “He used to take my socks, my shoes, pretty much anything that wasn’t nailed down and hide it in that corner there. He wasn’t going to sell it, because what’s a dog gonna buy, right?” He laughed, glancing over at her puzzled face, her hand still slowly making off with another item. “In his dog mind, he just figured if he took it, that made it his.” His eyes turned back to the round, stuffed mat where Duke used to curl up every night. “He was a good dog,” he said forlornly, lingering a minute on that memory, his heart still feeling the pain.
“Oren?” Hanah softly questioned his silence, causing him to lift his head.
“Yeah,” he said in acknowledgement, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “In any case, apples and oranges. I’m going to the outpost day after tomorrow. I’ll take you there if you want to go.”
She went back to hiding the items from the bag.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, grabbing two bowls and doling them each out some stew. He went to hand her bowl to her and then paused, nodding towards her dagger. “You give me that first.”
Hanah narrowed her eyes at him, her hand going to the dagger, not in a threatening way, but in a way that showed she meant to protect it. She shook her head at his extending hand with a look of determination.
“Okay then,” he said, withdrawing the food, bringing it back to the table. “But you’re missing some really good stew.”
Hanah’s face dropped. She reached under her pillow, picking through her stowed away items and removed a gold bracelet, which she thrust in his direction.
“Uh uh.” He chuckled at her attempt. “The dagger.” He pointed again.
Her eyes darkened, her lips puckering into an angry pout, and she crossed her arms and looked away.
Oren continued to eat in silence, listening to her mumble what sounded like complaints and curses at the wall. Laying down, she tossed and turned in agitation, pulling the blanket over her head with an angry growl, and then she sat back up and glared at him.
“Got something for me?” he asked, not looking up from his food.
“Dodoros,” she seethed, taking the dagger and flinging it across the floor.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you.
stjwelding
Veteran Member
Thanks Kritter.
Wayne
Wayne
Kritter
The one and only...
Little Fox
Ch.11:
Hanah ate her stew with hungry abandon, keeping the bowl cupped close to her chest. Occasionally, she made faces at Oren, exaggerating her chewing motions like the meat was made of rocks.
“Yeah, well I didn’t have a lot of time to cook it,” he said, leaning back in his chair, observing the way she licked her spoon and scraped the last drops from her bowl. “I’m guessing you were poor,” he said. “I was poor as a child too.”
Hanah’s brown eyes lifted towards him, studying him with interest. She looked beautiful with the warm glow of the fire reflecting off her face, the flames making little glittering stars in her eyes. Oren stared at her a moment before forcing himself to look away, not wanting to further burden his heart.
“My father worked part-time in the canning plant.” He stood up to gather their bowls and put them in the basin. “But he had to support my mother, my grandmother, plus me and my baby brother. So we had to do without a lot of things.” He stared down at the floor, remembering his jealousy of the other kids on his street with their shiny bicycles and fancy toys, and all the times he’d smell the food cooking in their homes while he went another day without a meal. “But whenever I sat with my head down on the stoop, my grandmother would always tell me ‘We have our health and we have each other, and that’s all that really matters.’ I didn’t understand that as a kid.” He drifted over to look out the window, watching the last dying rays of the sun disappear over the mountains, feeling a lump grow in his throat. “And then the fever hit us,” he said, glancing back at Hanah, who watched him with rapt attention. “My brother and I were the only ones who survived, and since he was only three months old, they gave him to another family. I didn’t get to see him after that.”
Hanah frowned and looked away, swiping a hand across her eyes, her lips pressed close together.
“Are you okay?” Oren questioned, coming to the side of the bed.
She shook her head and ducked a few times, trying to hide her face, and then she bent forward and ran her hands along her bandaged leg. “Sora vi,” she said softly, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“Oh God, you’re in pain, and I haven’t given you any tea,” he moaned, rushing over to start a pot of water boiling and crush more leaves. “I’m so sorry, Hanah. That was stupid of me. And here I’ve been going on about myself...”
Hanah sighed loudly and then took a deep breath, choking back a sniffle, trying to compose herself. “Sora vi,” she whispered again, her eyes glistening with moisture.
“I know, it hurts.” Oren grabbed the blanket that he’d been using and rolled it up, tucking it under her leg. “I’ll get some snow,” he said, grabbing his coat and heading for the door.
“Oren,” Hanah gasped, reaching a hand out for him.
“No, I’m not leaving. I’m just gonna make an ice pack for....you,” he slowed his words, realizing she had no idea what he was saying. “One second,” he promised, opening the door.
She watched him step outside with panic in her eyes, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
“Don’t you dare,” Oren shouted to her, grabbing up a bunch of snow in his hands and racing back into the cabin. “Get your leg back on that bed,” he directed, placing the snow inside a towel. “This will help.” He laid the towel against her ankle and smiled at her face, feeling the warm pleasure of being needed. “I’m not gonna leave you,” he whispered again, moving his chair next to her bed, staying by her side until she drank her tea and fell asleep.
---
Wind howled against the cabin during the night with a chorus of high-pitched voices. Rain battered the glass windows and rattled the flue, and cold air seeped in from every possible point, chilling Oren to the bone. He slept in his coat against the wall by the hearth, but it had done little to save him from the storm’s icy assault. In the morning, when he woke to stretch the pain out of his back, he discovered he’d been covered by two blankets.
“What were you doing hopping around in the middle of the night, little fox?” he asked, following the muddy footprint trail to his front door, grinning when he realized it went to the outhouse. “You should have woke me.” He laughed, tossing the blankets on the bed.
“You.” She pushed the blankets back towards him.
He smiled at her, wanting so badly not to ask his next question, but he knew he couldn’t force her to stay in his home. “How much Dornish do you know? Do you know the outpost?” He waited, then tried again, picking up the map she’d had in her pack and pointing at its location. “The outpost, do you know what I mean?”
“Al rackah.” She nodded, pointing at it herself.
“Right, al rackah. I have to go there tomorrow,” he said, showing her all his empty tins, and then making a little pantomime of himself riding his horse to that spot. “Do you...you,” he motioned to her, “Do you want to go to al rackah?”
Hanah bit her lip and shook her head, looking at him with concern.
“Do you want to stay here with me?” he asked, making the appropriate motions.
“You.” She nodded briefly.
“Okay then.” He beamed, knowing he shouldn’t read too much into her answer, but it was certainly a step in the right direction. He just hated the idea of leaving her alone for eight hours, but she did seem more than capable of getting around on her own. He opened up the burlap sack that held the last of his flour. “Pancakes?” he asked, not thinking about it twice when she gave an enthusiastic nod.
Ch.11:
Hanah ate her stew with hungry abandon, keeping the bowl cupped close to her chest. Occasionally, she made faces at Oren, exaggerating her chewing motions like the meat was made of rocks.
“Yeah, well I didn’t have a lot of time to cook it,” he said, leaning back in his chair, observing the way she licked her spoon and scraped the last drops from her bowl. “I’m guessing you were poor,” he said. “I was poor as a child too.”
Hanah’s brown eyes lifted towards him, studying him with interest. She looked beautiful with the warm glow of the fire reflecting off her face, the flames making little glittering stars in her eyes. Oren stared at her a moment before forcing himself to look away, not wanting to further burden his heart.
“My father worked part-time in the canning plant.” He stood up to gather their bowls and put them in the basin. “But he had to support my mother, my grandmother, plus me and my baby brother. So we had to do without a lot of things.” He stared down at the floor, remembering his jealousy of the other kids on his street with their shiny bicycles and fancy toys, and all the times he’d smell the food cooking in their homes while he went another day without a meal. “But whenever I sat with my head down on the stoop, my grandmother would always tell me ‘We have our health and we have each other, and that’s all that really matters.’ I didn’t understand that as a kid.” He drifted over to look out the window, watching the last dying rays of the sun disappear over the mountains, feeling a lump grow in his throat. “And then the fever hit us,” he said, glancing back at Hanah, who watched him with rapt attention. “My brother and I were the only ones who survived, and since he was only three months old, they gave him to another family. I didn’t get to see him after that.”
Hanah frowned and looked away, swiping a hand across her eyes, her lips pressed close together.
“Are you okay?” Oren questioned, coming to the side of the bed.
She shook her head and ducked a few times, trying to hide her face, and then she bent forward and ran her hands along her bandaged leg. “Sora vi,” she said softly, a tear rolling down her cheek.
“Oh God, you’re in pain, and I haven’t given you any tea,” he moaned, rushing over to start a pot of water boiling and crush more leaves. “I’m so sorry, Hanah. That was stupid of me. And here I’ve been going on about myself...”
Hanah sighed loudly and then took a deep breath, choking back a sniffle, trying to compose herself. “Sora vi,” she whispered again, her eyes glistening with moisture.
“I know, it hurts.” Oren grabbed the blanket that he’d been using and rolled it up, tucking it under her leg. “I’ll get some snow,” he said, grabbing his coat and heading for the door.
“Oren,” Hanah gasped, reaching a hand out for him.
“No, I’m not leaving. I’m just gonna make an ice pack for....you,” he slowed his words, realizing she had no idea what he was saying. “One second,” he promised, opening the door.
She watched him step outside with panic in her eyes, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
“Don’t you dare,” Oren shouted to her, grabbing up a bunch of snow in his hands and racing back into the cabin. “Get your leg back on that bed,” he directed, placing the snow inside a towel. “This will help.” He laid the towel against her ankle and smiled at her face, feeling the warm pleasure of being needed. “I’m not gonna leave you,” he whispered again, moving his chair next to her bed, staying by her side until she drank her tea and fell asleep.
---
Wind howled against the cabin during the night with a chorus of high-pitched voices. Rain battered the glass windows and rattled the flue, and cold air seeped in from every possible point, chilling Oren to the bone. He slept in his coat against the wall by the hearth, but it had done little to save him from the storm’s icy assault. In the morning, when he woke to stretch the pain out of his back, he discovered he’d been covered by two blankets.
“What were you doing hopping around in the middle of the night, little fox?” he asked, following the muddy footprint trail to his front door, grinning when he realized it went to the outhouse. “You should have woke me.” He laughed, tossing the blankets on the bed.
“You.” She pushed the blankets back towards him.
He smiled at her, wanting so badly not to ask his next question, but he knew he couldn’t force her to stay in his home. “How much Dornish do you know? Do you know the outpost?” He waited, then tried again, picking up the map she’d had in her pack and pointing at its location. “The outpost, do you know what I mean?”
“Al rackah.” She nodded, pointing at it herself.
“Right, al rackah. I have to go there tomorrow,” he said, showing her all his empty tins, and then making a little pantomime of himself riding his horse to that spot. “Do you...you,” he motioned to her, “Do you want to go to al rackah?”
Hanah bit her lip and shook her head, looking at him with concern.
“Do you want to stay here with me?” he asked, making the appropriate motions.
“You.” She nodded briefly.
“Okay then.” He beamed, knowing he shouldn’t read too much into her answer, but it was certainly a step in the right direction. He just hated the idea of leaving her alone for eight hours, but she did seem more than capable of getting around on her own. He opened up the burlap sack that held the last of his flour. “Pancakes?” he asked, not thinking about it twice when she gave an enthusiastic nod.
Last edited:
stjwelding
Veteran Member
Thanks, great story Kritter
Wayne
Wayne
Love this story! I could feel the cold the way you described it.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you.
Kritter
The one and only...
Little Fox
Ch.12:
Big John packed the last of his vegetable crates onto the wagon, cushioned against two large piles of Oren’s furs and skins. Oren checked the harness again and then rubbed Peabody’s nose, grinning with appreciation when Marie held out a snack basket for his trip.
“Thank you, good lady,” he said, bowing with a chivalrous air. “Do you think you can stop by and check on Hanah for me later today?”
“So you’re not taking her?” Big John said, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
“I told you he aimed to keep her,” Marie whispered, vindication in her voice.
Oren smiled at both of them. “No, she’s staying here.”
“And you...trust her?” Big John eyed him with concern.
“I do,” Oren said firmly, although he wasn’t sure of his answer. He hadn’t given much thought to whether she was trust-worthy or not since deciding she wasn’t a threat, but she seemed so innocent and gentle, with her odd, quirky nature, that he couldn’t imagine her being anything but sincere.
“All right then.” Big John nodded to Marie, approving of her visit. “I’ll take you on your word.”
“Oh, Ori, and get John some chocolate if they have it!” Marie begged as he climbed onto the wagon.
Oren gave a backwards glance as he began the journey, smiling at the way his friends stood together and waved like they were sending him off to college. They sometimes felt like parents to him, keeping an eye on his well-being, giving him advice over dinner and asking him about his week. He imagined there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for them in return.
Miles of prairie rolled by on either side of the dirt trail, and Oren coaxed Peabody into a trot. He’d made the round trip once in under seven hours and with his early start, he hoped to be home before the sundown. When he’d left his cabin, Hanah had been playing with one of her diamond trinkets, watching the light play off its surface. She seemed mesmerized by it, sliding it between her fingers and laying it over her wrist, creating little sparkles on the ceiling.
“Those aren’t real, you know,” Oren had told her, not sure if she knew or not. The rings all bore a single x stamp, indicating they were costume jewelry, and since a lot of the pieces matched, he assumed she’d taken it all from one place. She’d sent him from the cabin the night before so she could change her clothes. The garments in her backpack were very finely made, and he couldn’t help but think they were stolen too.
Time passed quickly for the first three hours, fueled by Oren’s anticipation. While the guards and merchants at the outpost eyed him with suspicion, most of his fellow traders there were friendly. He especially liked Cyrus, a short, mousy man who filled him in on all the latest Dorning gossip. There was a time when Oren still liked Dorning, back in his youth. When he was twelve, he’d been apprenticed to a ironsmith’s shop, and worked long hours bending thin iron bars into fences. He didn’t mind the years he spent sweating by the furnace, his face and arms covered in a coat of black grit. He was proud of the things he made, and went out of his way to get the smiths to teach him more. He used to dream he’d remain with them and eventually have a forge of his own. Unfortunately, that wasn't what happened.
Evergreens rose in the distance, where the trail wove through a forest. It was the last mile of his trip, and his favorite part, as he loved the smell of the pines. The stockade fence that surrounded the outpost was visible just beyond it, along with the tips of the tall wooden buildings that were built around its dirt yard.
He received much less attention from the guards than he had in prior visits. Their interest had been dulled over time. He maintained a low profile just the same, keeping his business short and his interactions brief, but before he left, his curiosity forced him to ask a few questions. There was a wooden board outside the guardhouse where they nailed their ‘wanted’ posters, and he didn’t see Hanah’s face.
“Are there any women fugitives?” he casually asked one of the guards.
“Not at the moment,” the man responded.
“Any reports of uh...jewel theft or...clothing gone missing?”
The guard narrowed his eyes at him. “No...none that I’ve heard of.”
“Any missing persons?” Oren tried again. “Is there anyone you’re looking for at all?”
“Why are you asking me these questions?” The guard slid a thumb behind his rifle strap, staring down at him with suspicion.
“No reason, just seems like it's been very quiet up north.”
“It has been...and we should be thankful for that,” the guard said, turning to peruse the posters himself.
Oren glanced at the board again, reviewing the old notice of bounty. The reward for the capture of the King’s assassin had gone up over time, with the most recent revision listing fifty thousand dollars. “If I had done it, I’d have turned myself in,” Oren said under his breath, imagining the luxurious life one could live with that money.
“Oren!” Cyrus called to him loudly from across the yard, rushing over to greet him. “I have a nice stack of books for you.” He took him by the arm, leading him over to his table. “I’ve been saving them.”
“And I’ve got a ton of skins for you,” Oren replied, “and a bunch of questions.”
“Questions?” Cyrus peered into his wagon, sifting through the edges of his furs before pulling out one he particularly liked.
“Yeah,” Oren lowered his voice. “Have you ever heard of a village in the east called ‘Anaria?’”
“Anaria...yes, but it’s not a village,” Cyrus said, bringing the fur back to his table and bending to remove a large bag of paperbacks from a carved wood trunk. “It’s a compound, an encampment, where they train the King’s elite guard.”
“Which king?” Oren asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Our king,” Cyrus said plainly.
Ch.12:
Big John packed the last of his vegetable crates onto the wagon, cushioned against two large piles of Oren’s furs and skins. Oren checked the harness again and then rubbed Peabody’s nose, grinning with appreciation when Marie held out a snack basket for his trip.
“Thank you, good lady,” he said, bowing with a chivalrous air. “Do you think you can stop by and check on Hanah for me later today?”
“So you’re not taking her?” Big John said, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
“I told you he aimed to keep her,” Marie whispered, vindication in her voice.
Oren smiled at both of them. “No, she’s staying here.”
“And you...trust her?” Big John eyed him with concern.
“I do,” Oren said firmly, although he wasn’t sure of his answer. He hadn’t given much thought to whether she was trust-worthy or not since deciding she wasn’t a threat, but she seemed so innocent and gentle, with her odd, quirky nature, that he couldn’t imagine her being anything but sincere.
“All right then.” Big John nodded to Marie, approving of her visit. “I’ll take you on your word.”
“Oh, Ori, and get John some chocolate if they have it!” Marie begged as he climbed onto the wagon.
Oren gave a backwards glance as he began the journey, smiling at the way his friends stood together and waved like they were sending him off to college. They sometimes felt like parents to him, keeping an eye on his well-being, giving him advice over dinner and asking him about his week. He imagined there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for them in return.
Miles of prairie rolled by on either side of the dirt trail, and Oren coaxed Peabody into a trot. He’d made the round trip once in under seven hours and with his early start, he hoped to be home before the sundown. When he’d left his cabin, Hanah had been playing with one of her diamond trinkets, watching the light play off its surface. She seemed mesmerized by it, sliding it between her fingers and laying it over her wrist, creating little sparkles on the ceiling.
“Those aren’t real, you know,” Oren had told her, not sure if she knew or not. The rings all bore a single x stamp, indicating they were costume jewelry, and since a lot of the pieces matched, he assumed she’d taken it all from one place. She’d sent him from the cabin the night before so she could change her clothes. The garments in her backpack were very finely made, and he couldn’t help but think they were stolen too.
Time passed quickly for the first three hours, fueled by Oren’s anticipation. While the guards and merchants at the outpost eyed him with suspicion, most of his fellow traders there were friendly. He especially liked Cyrus, a short, mousy man who filled him in on all the latest Dorning gossip. There was a time when Oren still liked Dorning, back in his youth. When he was twelve, he’d been apprenticed to a ironsmith’s shop, and worked long hours bending thin iron bars into fences. He didn’t mind the years he spent sweating by the furnace, his face and arms covered in a coat of black grit. He was proud of the things he made, and went out of his way to get the smiths to teach him more. He used to dream he’d remain with them and eventually have a forge of his own. Unfortunately, that wasn't what happened.
Evergreens rose in the distance, where the trail wove through a forest. It was the last mile of his trip, and his favorite part, as he loved the smell of the pines. The stockade fence that surrounded the outpost was visible just beyond it, along with the tips of the tall wooden buildings that were built around its dirt yard.
He received much less attention from the guards than he had in prior visits. Their interest had been dulled over time. He maintained a low profile just the same, keeping his business short and his interactions brief, but before he left, his curiosity forced him to ask a few questions. There was a wooden board outside the guardhouse where they nailed their ‘wanted’ posters, and he didn’t see Hanah’s face.
“Are there any women fugitives?” he casually asked one of the guards.
“Not at the moment,” the man responded.
“Any reports of uh...jewel theft or...clothing gone missing?”
The guard narrowed his eyes at him. “No...none that I’ve heard of.”
“Any missing persons?” Oren tried again. “Is there anyone you’re looking for at all?”
“Why are you asking me these questions?” The guard slid a thumb behind his rifle strap, staring down at him with suspicion.
“No reason, just seems like it's been very quiet up north.”
“It has been...and we should be thankful for that,” the guard said, turning to peruse the posters himself.
Oren glanced at the board again, reviewing the old notice of bounty. The reward for the capture of the King’s assassin had gone up over time, with the most recent revision listing fifty thousand dollars. “If I had done it, I’d have turned myself in,” Oren said under his breath, imagining the luxurious life one could live with that money.
“Oren!” Cyrus called to him loudly from across the yard, rushing over to greet him. “I have a nice stack of books for you.” He took him by the arm, leading him over to his table. “I’ve been saving them.”
“And I’ve got a ton of skins for you,” Oren replied, “and a bunch of questions.”
“Questions?” Cyrus peered into his wagon, sifting through the edges of his furs before pulling out one he particularly liked.
“Yeah,” Oren lowered his voice. “Have you ever heard of a village in the east called ‘Anaria?’”
“Anaria...yes, but it’s not a village,” Cyrus said, bringing the fur back to his table and bending to remove a large bag of paperbacks from a carved wood trunk. “It’s a compound, an encampment, where they train the King’s elite guard.”
“Which king?” Oren asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Our king,” Cyrus said plainly.
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sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
thank you
stjwelding
Veteran Member
Thank you for more of this great story Kritter.
Wayne
Wayne
Kritter
The one and only...
Little Fox
Ch.13:
Every item he had on his list had been filled, expect for the chocolate. Oren mulled around a few more tables, hating to leave without it, knowing Marie didn’t often indulge her husband’s desire for sweets. His stomach churned while he walked, his thoughts stuck on Hanah, wondering if he was wrong in guessing her story. She couldn’t be on the run if the guards didn’t look for her, and if she wasn’t on the run, why was she there?
His mind snapped back to the fear in Marie’s voice upon seeing the woman’s necklace with its Anarian crest, and he wondered now if she’d thought Hanah was one of the King’s elite guard? “King, justice, death,” Oren recited, finding the words more ominous now, considering the rings had perfectly fit her delicate fingers. But how would Marie, a foreigner, even know of such a place when he’d never heard of it himself.
“It certainly is a conundrum,” he said over his shoulder to Pea. “But so what if she is in service to the king. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Still, the thought bothered him, thinking she could be lying. Although, she hadn’t said a thing. Any story he’d attached to her presence at his house had been completely his own doing.
“Why the bag of jewelry though?” he questioned, stopping at a table that had gold among its wares. His fingers traced over a bracelet, with its line of light blue gemstones, his heart struggling against all reason.
---
The tranquility of the Outpost's forest was interrupted by the sound of a frenzied axe. A shower of chips flew over Oren’s head as he chopped at a fallen tree, his hand growing tighter around the handle. His strokes were heavy, his mood darkened by uncomfortable suspicions. “I just want the truth,” he said to his horse, who stood nearby, nibbling on some grass. “Do you ever do anything but eat?” he growled, swinging the axe even harder. “Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” The log he was chopping splintered and broke into pieces. He stopped and straightened, taking a deep breath while he glared over at Pea, and then he lowered himself to his knees and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“This is ridiculous,” he whispered, sitting back on his heels. His life had been pleasantly free of drama since moving to the north, and now it seemed to be hunting him down, tying his emotions in knots. “There has to be a way to figure this out.” He stood and wrestled off his coat, tossing it into the wagon. He’d been chopping wood for an hour, although he’d barely made a dent in the stores he would need for the month. He’d burned far too much for Hanah, trying to keep her warm, and now he was paying the price.
“A jewel thief...” He laughed at himself, returning to his chopping. “Maybe that’s what she wanted me to think. Maybe that’s why she had it.” He picked up another armful of wood and piled it in the wagon. “You’re useless, you know,” he said to Pea, and then he shook his head and walked over to the shire, giving his neck a pat. “It’s a good thing you don’t understand what I’m saying.” He strolled over to pick up the rest of the wood and then froze in his tracks. “Marie!” he gasped, spinning back towards his horse. “Marie knows her language.” He glanced up at the sky, estimating it was just past noon. “She’s probably talking to her as we speak,” he said, jumping into his seat and shaking the reins.
----
Peabody charged down the final straight of the trail that led to home, his flanks shining with sweat. Oren half-stood off his seat, braced against the floor boards, urging him on like they were racing the wind. Behind him, the wood and purchased goods bounced and slid all over the wagon. He’d pressed his horse as much as he dared to shorten the trip, and John’s cabin now loomed in the distance.
He greeted them calmly when he arrived, trying to hide his frayed nerves, but he could see in Marie’s eyes she had something to tell him. While Big John helped him unload the wagon, she paced and smiled and crossed her arms until her husband finally brought up the subject.
“Marie had a talk with your woman,” he said, looking through the tins and bags, trying to locate his chocolate. “She had quite a story to tell her.”
“What did she say? Did you believe her?” Oren asked, pointing out the sack which held the candy.
Big John spread it open and grinned at the multiple bars, picking one up and breathing it in before tearing off the wrapper. Then he looked in all directions, as if making sure they weren't being watched. “Come inside,” he said, taking a bite as he nodded towards the cabin.
Ch.13:
Every item he had on his list had been filled, expect for the chocolate. Oren mulled around a few more tables, hating to leave without it, knowing Marie didn’t often indulge her husband’s desire for sweets. His stomach churned while he walked, his thoughts stuck on Hanah, wondering if he was wrong in guessing her story. She couldn’t be on the run if the guards didn’t look for her, and if she wasn’t on the run, why was she there?
His mind snapped back to the fear in Marie’s voice upon seeing the woman’s necklace with its Anarian crest, and he wondered now if she’d thought Hanah was one of the King’s elite guard? “King, justice, death,” Oren recited, finding the words more ominous now, considering the rings had perfectly fit her delicate fingers. But how would Marie, a foreigner, even know of such a place when he’d never heard of it himself.
“It certainly is a conundrum,” he said over his shoulder to Pea. “But so what if she is in service to the king. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Still, the thought bothered him, thinking she could be lying. Although, she hadn’t said a thing. Any story he’d attached to her presence at his house had been completely his own doing.
“Why the bag of jewelry though?” he questioned, stopping at a table that had gold among its wares. His fingers traced over a bracelet, with its line of light blue gemstones, his heart struggling against all reason.
---
The tranquility of the Outpost's forest was interrupted by the sound of a frenzied axe. A shower of chips flew over Oren’s head as he chopped at a fallen tree, his hand growing tighter around the handle. His strokes were heavy, his mood darkened by uncomfortable suspicions. “I just want the truth,” he said to his horse, who stood nearby, nibbling on some grass. “Do you ever do anything but eat?” he growled, swinging the axe even harder. “Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” The log he was chopping splintered and broke into pieces. He stopped and straightened, taking a deep breath while he glared over at Pea, and then he lowered himself to his knees and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“This is ridiculous,” he whispered, sitting back on his heels. His life had been pleasantly free of drama since moving to the north, and now it seemed to be hunting him down, tying his emotions in knots. “There has to be a way to figure this out.” He stood and wrestled off his coat, tossing it into the wagon. He’d been chopping wood for an hour, although he’d barely made a dent in the stores he would need for the month. He’d burned far too much for Hanah, trying to keep her warm, and now he was paying the price.
“A jewel thief...” He laughed at himself, returning to his chopping. “Maybe that’s what she wanted me to think. Maybe that’s why she had it.” He picked up another armful of wood and piled it in the wagon. “You’re useless, you know,” he said to Pea, and then he shook his head and walked over to the shire, giving his neck a pat. “It’s a good thing you don’t understand what I’m saying.” He strolled over to pick up the rest of the wood and then froze in his tracks. “Marie!” he gasped, spinning back towards his horse. “Marie knows her language.” He glanced up at the sky, estimating it was just past noon. “She’s probably talking to her as we speak,” he said, jumping into his seat and shaking the reins.
----
Peabody charged down the final straight of the trail that led to home, his flanks shining with sweat. Oren half-stood off his seat, braced against the floor boards, urging him on like they were racing the wind. Behind him, the wood and purchased goods bounced and slid all over the wagon. He’d pressed his horse as much as he dared to shorten the trip, and John’s cabin now loomed in the distance.
He greeted them calmly when he arrived, trying to hide his frayed nerves, but he could see in Marie’s eyes she had something to tell him. While Big John helped him unload the wagon, she paced and smiled and crossed her arms until her husband finally brought up the subject.
“Marie had a talk with your woman,” he said, looking through the tins and bags, trying to locate his chocolate. “She had quite a story to tell her.”
“What did she say? Did you believe her?” Oren asked, pointing out the sack which held the candy.
Big John spread it open and grinned at the multiple bars, picking one up and breathing it in before tearing off the wrapper. Then he looked in all directions, as if making sure they weren't being watched. “Come inside,” he said, taking a bite as he nodded towards the cabin.
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Sneaker 11
RECONDO
Kritter..........that is a terrible place to leave us hanging.
cat killer
Senior Member
Kritter you're baaaaad, but in a nice way.
Nooooooo!!!!
More please? Pretty please?!
More please? Pretty please?!
goinpostal
Contributing Member
Loving the tale you're weaving.
Thank You!!
Matt
Thank You!!
Matt
Kritter
The one and only...
Little Fox
Ch.14
Big John’s cabin was twice the size of Oren’s. One part was standing when Oren first relocated to the north lands, and the addition they'd built together about two months after he’d arrived. The cabin was homey, with matching curtains and quilts, and a dark red tablecloth spread over a rectangular table. There was orange cushions on their chairs and light blue bows on the hooks that held their pots, and their fireplace mantle had pottery pieces on it.
Marie lit two candles and then sat down at the table, shoving a plate of cheese in Oren’s direction. “So,” she began, waiting a moment for John to stop folding sacks and join them. “I had a chance to speak with Hanah, but I must warn you...her story is very disturbing.” She stared at Oren with a serious face, letting her words sink in. “It turns out she is a performer, a dancer, and she worked with a traveling show. Not uncommon for people from Mazer.”
“A dancer...” Oren smiled, and then frowned, recalling his trap had broken her leg. “Well, what was she doing out here?”
Marie paused, covering her head with her shawl as if to protect her from evil spirits. “One of the show’s owners took an interest in her and made improper advances. And apparently, despite her repeated complaints, the man wouldn’t take no for an answer. Because she was so far from home, she tried to just avoid him, but one night....the man cornered her and tried to force himself on her.”
Oren sucked in his breath, his body beginning to tremble in anger.
“But she escaped,” Marie quickly reassured him, her eyes picking up a fiery light as she recounted the rest of the story. “She defended herself with the first thing she could grasp...one of the stagehand’s hammers...and she struck the man on the back of his leg. And then she grabbed what little she had in a pack and ran off into the night. She claims the jewelry was used in their show. She had taken it, yes, but only in the hopes that she could sell it to get back home.”
“I’d love to get my hands on that beast,” Big John snarled.
“As would I,” Oren said. “What a terrifying thing for her to have gone through.”
“But it gets worse,” Marie said, leaning forward on the table. “She was new to being on the road and she didn’t know which way to go. The first place of shelter she came upon was Anaria, and because she was from Mazer...they refused to give her help. They gave her that map and told her to follow the river through the north lands, knowing it was certain death, and she says one of the soldiers put the amulet around her neck and said, 'So those savages know who helped you.'”
Oren’s eyes lifted towards Big John with unspoken fury. “Those bastards. If I ever see a one of them again...” he started.
“We’ll get them all,” John said. “No Dorning soldier will ever be safe to walk in the north lands again.”
Oren’s chair practically fell over as he rose to his feet, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. “Thank you,” he said to Marie as he hurried for the door.
“Take care of her Ori,” she said in his wake. “We must treat her as kin to us now.”
-----
Oren caught sight of Hanah in the window as he rolled up to his cabin. That she watched for him was a pleasing thought, although he didn’t like her hopping around, lest she fall when he wasn’t there. He felt terrible for having believed she was a thief, or anything other than innocent. She’d probably tried to tell him her story, but he didn’t understand her, and his mind had gone in completely the wrong direction. He rushed to unharness Peabody and walk him to the stable, scooping him out a well-deserved bucket of oats, noticing the coat he had hidden inside the bag there was gone.
“Hanah,” he whispered, shaking his head and smiling to himself. He felt both love and pity for her, but he knew he had to do the right thing and offer to take her home. “Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll still want to stay,” he said to Pea, covering his horse with a blanket.
From the wagon, he lifted several bags and sacks and carried them into the cabin, balancing a stack of firewood on top.
“Oren!” she exclaimed, sitting up from the bed like she’d been there all along.
“How are you? Are you okay?” he asked, racing to her side, laying his bags on the floor. “Do you have any pain? Do you want me to make you some tea?”
She giggled at his rambling, her head spinning in playful confusion, and then she poked the edge of the bag closest to her and peeked inside.
“Wanna see what I got?” he offered, picking them up to her one at a time, letting her inspect their contents. Her curiosity was engaging, as was her full, wide smile. “One more thing,” he said, reaching in his pocket, pulling out a small blue box wrapped in silver ribbon. “It’s a gift for you.”
Hanah took the box from him slowly, her eyes studying his, and then she removed the ribbon and opened it, revealing the blue-gemmed bracelet. She glanced at him and bit her lip.
“It’s for you,” he repeated, pointing to her. “Here, let me put it on.” He moved over to sit on the side of the bed and lifted the bracelet from the box, clasping it around her wrist.
She stared at it for a moment, her throat visibly swallowing, and then she pursed her lips and shut her eyes. “Mata,” she whispered under her breath, glancing back at him with lowered lids, her fingers trembling as they slid across the sparkling band.
“I’m glad you like it.” He smiled.
“Mata,” she said again, leaning forward to hug him tightly, her head laying up against his chest.
“You’re welcome,” he said, returning the hug, loving the feeling of her in his arms, but then she started shaking and burst into tears.
Ch.14
Big John’s cabin was twice the size of Oren’s. One part was standing when Oren first relocated to the north lands, and the addition they'd built together about two months after he’d arrived. The cabin was homey, with matching curtains and quilts, and a dark red tablecloth spread over a rectangular table. There was orange cushions on their chairs and light blue bows on the hooks that held their pots, and their fireplace mantle had pottery pieces on it.
Marie lit two candles and then sat down at the table, shoving a plate of cheese in Oren’s direction. “So,” she began, waiting a moment for John to stop folding sacks and join them. “I had a chance to speak with Hanah, but I must warn you...her story is very disturbing.” She stared at Oren with a serious face, letting her words sink in. “It turns out she is a performer, a dancer, and she worked with a traveling show. Not uncommon for people from Mazer.”
“A dancer...” Oren smiled, and then frowned, recalling his trap had broken her leg. “Well, what was she doing out here?”
Marie paused, covering her head with her shawl as if to protect her from evil spirits. “One of the show’s owners took an interest in her and made improper advances. And apparently, despite her repeated complaints, the man wouldn’t take no for an answer. Because she was so far from home, she tried to just avoid him, but one night....the man cornered her and tried to force himself on her.”
Oren sucked in his breath, his body beginning to tremble in anger.
“But she escaped,” Marie quickly reassured him, her eyes picking up a fiery light as she recounted the rest of the story. “She defended herself with the first thing she could grasp...one of the stagehand’s hammers...and she struck the man on the back of his leg. And then she grabbed what little she had in a pack and ran off into the night. She claims the jewelry was used in their show. She had taken it, yes, but only in the hopes that she could sell it to get back home.”
“I’d love to get my hands on that beast,” Big John snarled.
“As would I,” Oren said. “What a terrifying thing for her to have gone through.”
“But it gets worse,” Marie said, leaning forward on the table. “She was new to being on the road and she didn’t know which way to go. The first place of shelter she came upon was Anaria, and because she was from Mazer...they refused to give her help. They gave her that map and told her to follow the river through the north lands, knowing it was certain death, and she says one of the soldiers put the amulet around her neck and said, 'So those savages know who helped you.'”
Oren’s eyes lifted towards Big John with unspoken fury. “Those bastards. If I ever see a one of them again...” he started.
“We’ll get them all,” John said. “No Dorning soldier will ever be safe to walk in the north lands again.”
Oren’s chair practically fell over as he rose to his feet, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. “Thank you,” he said to Marie as he hurried for the door.
“Take care of her Ori,” she said in his wake. “We must treat her as kin to us now.”
-----
Oren caught sight of Hanah in the window as he rolled up to his cabin. That she watched for him was a pleasing thought, although he didn’t like her hopping around, lest she fall when he wasn’t there. He felt terrible for having believed she was a thief, or anything other than innocent. She’d probably tried to tell him her story, but he didn’t understand her, and his mind had gone in completely the wrong direction. He rushed to unharness Peabody and walk him to the stable, scooping him out a well-deserved bucket of oats, noticing the coat he had hidden inside the bag there was gone.
“Hanah,” he whispered, shaking his head and smiling to himself. He felt both love and pity for her, but he knew he had to do the right thing and offer to take her home. “Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll still want to stay,” he said to Pea, covering his horse with a blanket.
From the wagon, he lifted several bags and sacks and carried them into the cabin, balancing a stack of firewood on top.
“Oren!” she exclaimed, sitting up from the bed like she’d been there all along.
“How are you? Are you okay?” he asked, racing to her side, laying his bags on the floor. “Do you have any pain? Do you want me to make you some tea?”
She giggled at his rambling, her head spinning in playful confusion, and then she poked the edge of the bag closest to her and peeked inside.
“Wanna see what I got?” he offered, picking them up to her one at a time, letting her inspect their contents. Her curiosity was engaging, as was her full, wide smile. “One more thing,” he said, reaching in his pocket, pulling out a small blue box wrapped in silver ribbon. “It’s a gift for you.”
Hanah took the box from him slowly, her eyes studying his, and then she removed the ribbon and opened it, revealing the blue-gemmed bracelet. She glanced at him and bit her lip.
“It’s for you,” he repeated, pointing to her. “Here, let me put it on.” He moved over to sit on the side of the bed and lifted the bracelet from the box, clasping it around her wrist.
She stared at it for a moment, her throat visibly swallowing, and then she pursed her lips and shut her eyes. “Mata,” she whispered under her breath, glancing back at him with lowered lids, her fingers trembling as they slid across the sparkling band.
“I’m glad you like it.” He smiled.
“Mata,” she said again, leaning forward to hug him tightly, her head laying up against his chest.
“You’re welcome,” he said, returning the hug, loving the feeling of her in his arms, but then she started shaking and burst into tears.
Last edited:
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
What; is it her mothers or something?
Kritter
The one and only...
Oh, no, 'mata' is just her thank you. :P
Wouldn't that be "mutter"? lol