Dead leaves crunched and mud schloped under Ryckel's feet as he continued on.
He had been walking alone for days, all alone and it got rather boring. To keep himself entertained he whistled the tune the Stained Brothers sang before they died, the sound echoing softly again the towering trees with twisted roots above the mud.
It was still quiet. But his mind wasn't.
Mom? Lyra? Are they eating? Are they hiding? Are they okay?
Or… Are they dead.
He forced himself to consider the alternative, that they were already dead and their bodies were lying undiscovered in the mud or burned to a crisp.
No. They're alive. They should be.
Ryckel forced himself to not think about it. He had enough to worry on his plate as it is.
Thirst interrupted his grim meditation. He reached into his satchel, pulled out a leather pouch, and drank the water deeply.
After a while, he felt the need to relieve himself, he stepped to the side of a massive tree and urinated on the roots that curled above the ground.
These woods were treacherous. He saw pale blue stones here and there, wondering just what they are and where they come from.
Nearby, the worn rubble of a massive structure protruded from the dirt.
The Amphictony hasn't finished clearing this area.
Ryckel thought, eyeing the ruins.
Maybe I should have waited for them to come back? And then explain my situation to them?
They should know Syrion for sure. Who knows… maybe he's already looking for me.
He shook his head, instantly dismissing the notion.
No. Waiting is dying. He had no idea when the clearing team ould return, or if they would even help him in the first place.
Syrion wasn't probably looking for him for the same reason.
Ryckel continued walking, his feet throbbing in his worn-out shoes. He could feel the cold mud seeping through the rotting soles, but he focused on moving forward.
Should I have taken their boots?
He remembered Hood and his gang's corpses.
Nope. They would've been too big. I'd trip and move slowly.
If I happened to run a situation where I'll need to be fast and fight back, the boots would've been a liability.
As he neared the edge of the forest, the trees thinned and so did the dread of walking endlessly.
That's when his eyes saw a grim sight.
A body hung from a low-hanging branch, swaying gently in the wind. The clothes were tattered rags, the skin stained with mud and blood.
Ryckel froze, flowing his energy all around his body.
A trap? Bandits?
The Stained Brothers weren't the only threat after all. Everything was fair game to those willing to take it.
He grabbed the dagger from his satchel, approaching slowly.
He looked down. Straw sandals were on the ground, still intact and far sturdier than his own footwear.
Forgive me.
Ryckel felt guilty.
He removed his own shoes, tied the sandals on, and bowed to the hanged man.
It's a necessity. I'm just garbage taking from garbage. I need to survive.
As he turned to leave, his eyes caught figures past the bushes. He thought it were bandits but saw the figures were stationary.
He saw three stones were dug into the ground, side-by-side. The dirt in front of them was freshly turned
These are graves.
Ryckel's eyes felt as if they burrowed deeper into his sockets.
Could they have been wanderers?
The thought made his chest tighten.
But three graves… Mother, Lyra and me…
He cut of the thought and tore his gaze away, forcing himself not to look back, and plunged out of the forest.
---The End of Chapter 19---