They walked in the silence of the forest, through the thicket of aspen, up the hill, all the while Kanrel levitated the deer carcass ahead of them. Making sure that his two saviors could rest their arms and legs from needlessly carrying something that was certainly heavy and difficult to carry for miles through a changing landscape and uneven ground.
Mirai walked near Kanrel and kept observing him from the corner of her eyes; she must not have trusted him quite yet. Kanrel noticed this, but didn't mention anything about it. It wasn't like he could talk away distrust when they had just met. Her and Torin's careful approach regarding him only made sense. It was part of their job, after all, even during more normal times.
Torin walked further behind, always keeping Kanrel and Mirai within his view; never staring for too long at his surroundings, knowing that the priest was the highest potential threat in these woods. Bears had gone into their deep slumber, wolves he could bring down with arrows, and bandits would die the same, but priests... Torin must've worked with many a priest before, especially those of the Inquisition, who were primarily trained in combat. And even if Kanrel certainly seemed withered and meek in his eyes, it all might as well be a lie. For even a starved farmer might become a murderer if it meant a dinner.
Thus, Kanrel kept his gaze solely ahead, only focusing on the next step and keeping up the codes that kept them warm, their way ahead lit, and the deer from touching ground. All he could do was to make himself as unthreatening and predictable as possible. But...
His stomach kept growling, his legs kept protesting the way he had overextended himself, and an unpleasant feeling crawled through his existence, reminding him of the cost of magic. So after, perhaps an hour, he forced his mouth open and broke the silence filled with the sounds of boots crunching against the snow and the frozen ground beneath it: "Must we reach the camp now, or may we take a break? It will take hours before we will even be close to it…"
Mirai glanced back; she received a nod from Torin. "You may take a break," she confirmed, and the moment her words departed her lips, Kanrel collapsed against a nearby tree, nearly dropping the deer to the ground. He managed to stop it from falling down just before it hit the snow. Gently, he let it fall down the rest of the way.
Mirai crouched closer. "Are you all right?"
Kanrel managed to nod a lie. He wasn't okay at all. His whole body hurt, he was tired, and starved. How could he be okay?
Torin arrived with a bundle of branches. "Help with the fire," he said, and placed the bundle close by. Mirai got up to clear a space for a campfire, but the moment she did, she saw how the space before them had its snow melt away, and the moss beneath it soon dried and withered. She glanced at Kanrel, who had his eyes on the spot. Then she could see how the bundle of branches floated on top of the cleared space, forming a neat campfire, which soon lit afire from a gentle flame that Kanrel conjured.
Torin returned with another bundle of branches. He stopped at the sight, then sighed. "You didn't have to do that," he muttered and placed the new bundle not too far from the fire.
Kanrel shook his head. "I should. It would take minutes for you two to first clear a suitable place, when I could do it in seconds."
"Besides, I should earn my upkeep," he added.
Torin frowned. "We would feed you regardless. It is our duty to do so," he muttered and walked to the deer. "Help me skin and cut this thing."
Kanrel tried to get up, but Mirai placed her hand on his shoulder. "Just rest; you look like shit." Her grip was firm, and Kanrel couldn't find words to deny her, so he sat back down as Mirai and Torin began the smelly process.
The duo placed the deer on its back, then, with his knife, Torin made the first few incisions near its tail end, and then, near the base of the belly, he cut through the hide and muscle from the pelvis to the sternum. Then, he moved his knife to begin the removal of the organs.
Kanrel couldn't look any longer, so he diverted his gaze into the flames instead. Even though he had done similar things, though not nearly as skillfully as these two, he still couldn't bear to watch. And after a while of anxiously staring into the flames and trying to stay awake, his tired eyes found the rest they had been seeking for hours now. He slept, even though he was afraid that his saviors would be gone the next moment he'd open his eyes...
He was shaken awake, pulled from the darkness of dreamless sleep. With groggy eyes, Kanrel saw a figure leaning over him, a woman. She had dried blood all over her face. Kanrel startled fully awake, his eyes widening at the sight, he almost screamed, but soon remembered who she was and what she had been doing. It was cold.
"What?" he managed to say, but it too came out as a growl.
"We need your help with the roasting," Mirai explained and forced Kanrel to stand up. He didn't fight against her, and as he got up, he finally saw the venison meat. It lay proudly above the flames thanks to a long stick that ran through it. But the fire wasn't large enough.
Torin stared intently at the deer as well as the flames. "There isn't enough dry wood around," he explained. He sounded somewhat disappointed.
Kanrel nodded. "And would you like me to collect and dry heaps of wood for you?"
"If you could... Mirai will help you, and I'll watch the meat," he said and glanced at the corporal by Kanrel's side, who nodded back to him.
Kanrel almost scoffed, but managed a lifeless smile instead. "It won't take long," he promised and stumbled forth, but as he did, he was suddenly pulled back by Mirai.
Kanrel met her gaze and looked at her. She cleared her throat and muttered, "All the waste is that way…"
"Waste?"
"Yes... Like the deer's head," she muttered and pulled Kanrel with her, away from the warmth of the campfire, the venison, and Torin, who had his eyes solely on the meat and the fire.
After a while, she let go, and she began foraging for fallen branches and whatever she could find to dry and later burn. Kanrel followed and helped her as much as he could. All the while, there was this uncomfortable silence, only broken by the sound of a branch giving way because of the snow, and falling on the forest floor not too far from them.
Mirai crouched down to pick another branch that reached from the snow like a hand. "Why are you sorry?" she suddenly asked.
Kanrel stopped in the middle of picking up another branch. His mind felt as though it were blank. Just for a moment, he questioned himself... Why? Why am I sorry? Because of what, and to whom?
When he looked down, past the branches that he held in his arms, he saw boots. Not his, but someone else's. Of course, he was sorry. He should be sorry. Not only because of the boots and their owner, but because of each pair that now lay in Jersten and in Aucklyn, abandoned and unworn by anyone. Everything was his fault. He should be sorry for everything.
"For being too late," he said. His voice cracked as he forced out a half-truth that felt stuck in his throat. He grabbed the branch that stuck out from the snow and faced Mirai.
"Too late... from what?" Mirai pushed; she sounded casual, but beneath the veil of her tone lay her intentions, clear as day.
Kanrel spat out another half-truth, "From reaching Aucklyn... I could've... I could've done something." Why couldn't he just tell the truth? All of it was his fault. They had died because of him.
Mirai didn't push further. She only nodded. Perhaps, she could see the torment on Kanrel's face, and that made her refrain from questioning further. "Let's head back... This should be enough for now." She turned back toward the glow of the campfire.
Kanrel stood for a while and stared after her. He had an urge to call after her; to confess all his crimes... The words just got stuck. He felt suddenly so sick. It felt like a burn within his throat, a nausea of the mind that had to be vomited out. He swallowed and followed after her. The time to confess would come later. Maybe the day they reached Atarkan... Maybe then he'd have the courage for honesty.
The flames of the campfire were dwindling, yet Torin kept slowly rotating the venison that had gained some color by now. Mirai and Kanrel placed the foraged branches near the fire.
"Now... Can you dry them for us?" Torin asked without even looking at Kanrel or the branches.
"I can do that later," Kanrel said and sat across from Torin, whose gaze lifted from the venison and stuck itself to Kanrel.
"We need it now." Torin frowned. The gaze in his eyes was sharp and annoyed.
Kanrel shook his head. "We'll save them for the night," he muttered, and suddenly the flames grew hotter. Torin flinched away, his eyes widening as he moved his gaze between the flames and Kanrel. Then he frowned. "You could've done that earlier."
Kanrel shrugged, but said nothing. They'd need the wood anyway later.
Mirai sat near the campfire as well. The crimson on her face made her look like a warrior after battle. Torin looked like one as well, but he had kept his face clean; only his clothes had been soiled by the blood. Without thinking, Kanrel began preparing codes to clean their clothes and Mirai's face, but before he could activate them, he hesitated. Then a frown came to his face. He couldn't just use magic as he pleased.
He cleared his throat. "Is blood the color of a ranger's choice?" he asked and peered at them.
The two rangers shared a look, then Torin shrugged. "There isn't much to do about it here. I, for one, wouldn't want to bathe in snow or in a frozen lake; I'd rather just sweat it off."
Mirai touched her face, feeling the spots that were bloody. She even took some snow and rubbed it against her face, and when she looked at her fingers, she could see how the snow had turned red.
"Well... I could help with that, too," Kanrel managed to suggest despite his hesitance.
Torin's brow arched. "Of course... with that too, you could help with…" he muttered. A long sigh soon followed. "Are these things that priests usually do? Is something as menial as cleanliness worthy of magic use?" he questioned.
Kanrel blinked. Was it? He slowly nodded. "I do it all the time. It is much more convenient than taking a bath or–"
Mirai snorted. "You're a strange fellow, Kanrel the priest," she said, and suddenly got up. "But if you really could make my clothes clean and my face as well, I wouldn't mind the help, for as long as I can keep the clothes on, that is."
Torin sighed. "Surely magic isn't meant for–"
"Don't worry, there won't be a need for removing clothes or anything like that. Just slowly spin around once or twice, and I'll easily clean most of it," Kanrel hurried to reassure.
"–something like this…" Torin muttered, but neither heard a thing.
"Then I'll gladly accept your services!" Mirai urged and had already begun slowly turning around, as Kanrel released multiple codes to gently wash her clothes, as well as her face. All she would have felt was a momentary touch of warm water pressed against her multiple times. After a while, she sat back down and felt her face.
"What a strange experience," she muttered. "If you weren't a priest, I might think you a pervert," she added with a smile.
Kanrel coughed. "Apologies... I've only ever done it to myself," he muttered back.
Mirai's smile turned into a grin. "I could've expected as much." She nodded and then glanced at Torin. "Your turn, sergeant," she urged with utmost respect, all the while she grinned as if something funny would happen in just a moment.
Torin stared back at her. His gaze was ice cold. She managed to stare back for only a few moments before she diverted her gaze somewhere else.
"I would rather not have you waste your abilities on something menial like this," Torin said.
Kanrel scoffed. "Sergeant Torin, when it comes to the use of magic, you can rest assured, for it isn't something that will just run out, especially if it is used to do something so simple as conjuring warm water."
"But–" Torin began to protest, but Kanrel lifted his hand to stop him. "And I mean no offense, Sergeant Torin, but I believe that all of us will much prefer each other's company if none of us stunk like a carcass."
Torin stared at Kanrel for a while; his cheeks seemed somewhat redder than before. He let out a long sigh and got up, while muttering something about the disregard for the chain of command.
Kanrel advised him to slowly turn around as he began releasing multiple codes to wash the man's clothes, but for some reason, the man kept trembling uncontrollably, and Mirai kept grinning through it all. The next time either of them saw Torin's face, it was fully red, and Mirai let out a roaring laughter.
Kanrel got up. "What's wrong?" he asked and stepped around the campfire.
Torin lifted his hands. "Nothing. Nothing at all," he said and sat back down. His gaze slowly shifted toward Mirai. "Weren't you ticklish at all?" he suddenly asked.
Mirai dried her tears that had emerged; her grin was wide as ever. "Of course I was... I just knew that if I were to giggle or even tremble, then you would surely refuse the offer."
"Ticklish?" Kanrel muttered. He sat back down with a frown. "How could it be ticklish?"
Torin stared at Kanrel for a while, then shook his head. "You said that you've ever done this to yourself?"
Kanrel nodded. He couldn't recall even a single time that he had done it to someone else.
Torin sighed. "I suppose priests can't even be tickled." His expression changed, and his eyes softened. What was it? Compassion? Pity?
Kanrel's eyes widened, and he slapped his forehead. "Of course, how could I forget?"
"I've not been tickled since I was a child," he muttered, then frowned. "No... I haven't been able to feel the sensation for decades now. Even that, I've long lost…" His voice trailed off. It had never been something that he had even thought about. The sensation of being tickled. The last being that tickled him must have been his cat, Deft.
A shadow claimed Kanrel's expression as he stared into the flames, and silence arrived and claimed the space between him and the two rangers.
The next couple of hours, they roasted the meat while planning the journey ahead. They'd eat, then continue through the night, until they'd reach the location where they had left Kanrel bound. Torin and Mirai had left most of their supplies hidden near the camp and would need them to set up for the night and get some proper rest.
Unceremoniously, they ate huge chunks of the pit-roasted venison. The rest they would save for tomorrow. Kanrel formed codes to light their way and keep them warm, as well as to carry the leftovers of the venison. Torin covered the campfire with snow, and they left together, leaving behind the now extinguished campfire, as well as the heap of branches they had needlessly ended up collecting.
- - - - -
They closely followed the footprints that they themselves had left behind earlier during the day. They would've camped for the night much earlier if only they could be certain that it would not snow. They all needed rest, but at least none of them was hungry anymore.
"Where are you from?" Torin suddenly asked. He no longer kept his distance and instead walked relatively close to both of them.
"Lo'Gran," Kanrel replied without hesitation.
"And you're a nameless?"
Kanrel nodded.
"Were you adopted by someone?"
"Yes, my mother," he replied casually.
Torin had a smile on his face as he casually asked, "Might your mother's last name be Iduldian?"
Kanrel stopped walking. He had made a mistake. He took a step.
"Are you Kanrel Iduldian?" Torin asked again. Mirai glanced at both of them; a confused expression had covered her face.
A long sigh escaped his lips. What was the point of lying? "Yes, yes, I am," he replied and took another step forward.
"Are you really?" Torin's tone had fully changed.
Kanrel gritted his teeth. "What? Does it sound like a lie? Do I seem like I'm lying? Do I need to prove even that? What do you want from me?" he listed questions that came to his mind, each question angrier than the previous one.
They all stood still; Torin and Mirai stared at him, but he looked only ahead, toward the venison which he floated ahead, and the lights he had to keep up so that there wouldn't be total darkness.
He wasn't angry at Torin, not entirely. He blamed himself for causing a situation where no one in their right mind would believe him. They must've thought that he was crazy. They must have thought that he was some priest who had gone insane and believed himself to be related to the Herald.
His whole body had tensed, then he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked at it. It was Torin. Ahead, two of the lights flashed and dwindled, and the venison fell onto the snow. It was darker than it had been before.
"I mean no offense," Torin explained. His tone was calm and serious. "It is just... The Herald's son disappeared nearly fifteen years ago, and there have been people who've claimed to be him."
"Though none of them were priests, all of them were just frauds. Or so the rumors say that we've all heard…"
Kanrel felt himself relax. "Do you believe me?" he asked.
Torin sighed. "I can't. It is not up to me to decide if you are him or if you aren't him. I'd say that only those who knew him can ever say if you are or aren't."
Kanrel nodded. "There is someone, or many, in Atarkan who can," he spoke; his voice suddenly soft.
"Who?"
"Roslyn, since you've come across her. Yviev, a priest whom I once considered a friend... Professor Oidus, if she still lives, perhaps many of the faculty…" he frantically listed.
'Am I Kanrel, or am I someone else, someone like him, but someone not quite him?' he questioned himself. For all he knew, he might as well not be the Kanrel they knew years ago.
Torin's hand departed. "Then, we'll find out in Atarkan, won't we?" he encouraged and glanced at Mirai, who stared at Kanrel, eyes wide open. She scanned him from boot to head. She didn't seem so certain. Torin sighed, "Let's keep moving, shall we?"
Kanrel managed a nod and reactivated the codes that he had lost. The forest ahead turned brighter once more, and the venison that had met the snow beneath it levitated a few feet off the ground.
They kept walking through the forest, and they passed a stand of birch trees and soon crossed a frozen stream. Its cracked surface twinkled because of Kanrel's light, and it gave a familiar crunch as they stepped on it, each having their turn. The prints in the snow snaked ahead as they made their way back to where Kanrel had awoken, abandoned and bound. But instead of staying there, they walked a minute or two eastward. They came across a collection of boulders and a familiar-looking lean-to made from spruce branches.
Kanrel stood still and stared at the thing which he had constructed. Torin and Mirai stepped past him and moved the lean-to; they both stared at Kanrel. "Are you coming?" Mirai asked.
Kanrel frowned and went inside his little shelter, which had been stolen by these two so-called saviors. Inside awaited a different view. Two backpacks leaned against the boulder that served as a wall. The log he had burned wasn't inside anymore, but some pieces of burned wood remained, as well as a pile of branches for a campfire.
He left the venison, or what was left of it, outside.
Torin closed the lean-to. They all sat close by, practically against one another.
Kanrel cleared his throat. "I presume you both like my humble abode."
Torin nodded. "Indeed. It is surprisingly well constructed for a priest. Because of it, and the fire log, we assumed that you were a well-practiced hunter," he explained. "But it is no wonder; you probably used magic to make the whole thing," he suddenly complained.
Kanrel scoffed and brought out a blanket from his pouch. He wrapped it around himself, preparing for a cold night. He lay down on the cold ground, but didn't close his eyes yet; instead, he let the light remain and circulated the warm air inside their small shelter.
"Shouldn't we make a fire, or something?" Mirai asked while Torin had already brought out another blanket from his backpack.
"No point," Kanrel muttered. "There isn't enough space for one... Unless you want to get roasted," he added.
Mirai sighed and took a blanket out of her backpack. She then stared at Kanrel and Torin, who had lain down next to one another. She cleared her throat, and both of them looked up at her.
"Sergeant Torin, Priest Kanrel, there is something that I simply must propose for the sake of virtue and common decency…"
Both men blinked, and Torin even frowned. "Spit it out, Corporal Mirai... Please enlighten us with your boundless wisdom…" Torin muttered and closed his eyes.
"Well, as we all must have noticed by now. Within this small shelter, there is a woman and two men," she began her explanation. And the moment she did, Torin's eyes burst open, and he began moving to the other side of the shelter.
"And I feel that I can trust only one of these men not to have any immoral thoughts."
"Woman? Immoral thoughts? You're barely a woman, within my eyes you're nothing more than another ranger... Besides, I have a woman back home, I'll have you know!" Torin protested all the while, still moving away from his original spot.
"Indeed, sir, but many men claim one thing yet do another, wouldn't you say so?" She smiled and looked at both in turn.
Kanrel blinked. "Are you asking him or me?"
Mirai snorted. "It was more of a rhetorical question... but if you, priest, happen to know the answer, feel free to lecture our Sergeant 'Has a Woman at Home' about morality."
Kanrel blinked again. "Well... when I served as a priest in Jersten, there came a time when I had to hastily marry a young couple... Apparently, they had promised one another that they'd only hold hands while sleeping next to one another, but well…"
Mirai lifted her hand and smiled. "Not quite what I was going for, dear priest, but close enough," she said, then tapped Kanrel's leg with her boot. "Now scoot over, so that there might be a priest between the moral and the immoral."
"Certainly," Kanrel muttered and made space. Soon, he found himself between the corporal and the sergeant. It was much warmer this way, at least.
Torin snorted and mumbled something about traitorous behavior and the disgraceful disregard for the chain of command while turning over so as not to even look toward them.
Kanrel lay between the two and stared at the ceiling he had made from branches of a spruce tree. The needles remained dark green in color. It could take weeks for them to fully dry out, and he wondered if they'd reach Atarkan before that, or long after?
Would the needles still be green when he'd confess his crimes? Would they already be dry when he'd meet Roslyn again? Would anyone believe him? Would they believe that he was Kanrel, and would they even believe the things that he would tell them?
He felt tired. So very tired. It had been a long day, and these questions kept him from falling asleep. But this time, he felt almost thankful because of them. For he at least could stay awake and keep Sergeant Torin and Corporal Mirai warm with his magic. At least he was useful in this moment.