NanoWrimo Days 7+8

Her father drove them all hard, stopping only when necessary, and allowing them one 4 hour rest each day around noon. They had been traveling in this fashion for a few days before she began coughing. She tried to hide it, she knew their lives depended on not being found, but each day she felt worse, and shivered night after night, in spite of the warm nights and blankets.

“We need to get you a proper night's rest and a warm meal, my kitten” Her father’s face was furrowed with worry. Despite her concern over their flight, a hot meal sounded like heaven. She sneezed, then nodded. “That settles it. We’ll risk the path this evening. Let’s hope we find somewhere safe without inquizitive hosts”. He smiled at her. “It’s safe to take a nap, I’ll holler if something comes up.” She nodded, looking into his warm brown eyes. Eyes weary with forced travel. “You need a rest too” she reminded him quietly. He nodded. “If we find a place, I’ll take a nap” he promised her. Together, they broke camp, collecting their meager belongings and stacking them into the now very battered cart. Then, Raylin began scattering leaves over the forest floor, covering the indentations where they had slept on the moss. He then pulled out a small bottle from his pocket and uncorking it, spread a few drops over the leaves. Morika caught a whiff of the oder and gagged. “Skunk essence, to cover our scent”. Her father replied. She nodded. It made sense, but she was surprised her father had been so prepared for the unexpected journey. Perhaps he had known they would someday need to leave? She shook her head silently. She must be over thinking things. Yawning, she climbed into the back of the cart, and they set off. They traveled through the muddy forest, wind still on their heels, making for the road. She slept most of the time, waking only when they made a sharp turn, or had to navigate around close clusters of trees. Birds called and chirped at one another as they traveled. Eventually, she heard her father call out “lunchtime Morika”. She looked out find the cart slowing down near a small stream. Raylin hopped out and began to set up a small travel tablecloth over a stump near the stream. She watched him pulling out the food, expecting a meager ration of berries, roots, and some bread slices. They had been fasting, trying to make their food last as long as possible. Her father turned the bag upside down, emptying the contents on the stump. Berries, roots, 4 slices of bread, and a small clay pot. She gasped, looking at him. “From the midsummer night's feast” he grinned. “Your favorite”. He grinned. “I know it’s risky, stopping again so soon, but we shant stay long, and we deserve a break.” Inside the pot was a small pomegranate and blackberry pie, topped with honey. “We’ll eat the rest of our rations for lunch, and pray we find an inn before nightfall.” He noted the look of worry on her face. “We’ll find somewhere, and besides, the food won’t keep forever. Eat, and enjoy.” Together, the two ate in peaceful silence, savoring the sweet pie for dessert. When they had finished, he looked at the sky. “Getting on evening time, if the sun is any judge. It will be the perfect time for traveling back onto the road. Hopefully no one will notice we emerged from the forest. That would lead to some embarrassing questions.” Raylin winked at her, but she didn’t share in his levity. She was starting to feel sick again, and drank some more spring water, trying to cover her cough. “Thank you for the wonderful lunch daddy” She smiled up at him. It was nice. He stroked her cheek once, and began packing.

Some time later, they pulled up out of the thicket and onto the path. After so much time in the forest, she enjoyed the nice smooth ride, but kept an eye out down the darkening path, half expecting those things to come up on their rear at any moment. Sunset turned to dusk, which slowly turned to pitch black night. He lit his lanturn. “Might as well see if we’re on the road anyway”. He noted. She nodded, but was glad he didn’t light the back lanturn. The night turned cold, and she shivered. Crawling up to the front, she snuggled in under her father’s arm. He smiled at her, hugging her tight. She wasn’t sure when she drifted off, but she woke to music in the air, and a warm delicious smell wafting on the damp night air. They had pulled off the main road down a small dirt path to an inn. The inn was a welcome sight, with smoke dancing out the chimney, and song and laughter in the air. Her sharp ears picked up a voice, carrying the rhythm of the song. An wood nymph! There was no mistaking the melody, how it wavered on the air, holding a note that was neither happy nor sad, but somehow both at once.

Many moons ago, a wood nymph had visited their village during the festival. The tree being’s singing was magical and held everyone spellbound. Every year, Morika wished she could hear a nymph’s song again. “Do you hear that?” she squeaked in her father’s ear, her voice horse with coughing and excitement. “I reckon we’ll be safe here tonight, her father whispered. Nymphs are extra sensitive to creatures of darkness. They wouldn’t be singing unless they felt safe.” They rode down the dirt path to the entrance of the inn.