Cursed: Traitor's Trail

Chapter 5 Part 2

When she opened her eyes the world changed. No longer did the wind hurl dust about and whip through the stones. Instead, a clear and calm day surrounded her. The edges of this place were strangely fuzzy; she attempted to shift to get a better view, but found herself unable to move. The stone remained solid at her back, and she sat now as though a part of it. She gazed outward at a lush expanse of grass, hardly as tall as herself and yet obviously healthy and growing. In the distance stood a tall structure topped with green. It was a bit blurry, but she identified it as a tree, similar to the ones of the eastern Forest Kingdom. She had admired them, in the distance, when the Monthoda traveled near the border, except this tree grew greener and more beautiful than any she had ever glimpsed before. The sun shone down upon her, not with the blazing heat she expected, but with pleasant warmth, and the air smelled of fresh rain.

Where am I? She thought that she had died and gone into the afterlife. Maybe the wall killed her. But I've been damned; there will be no afterlife for me. In this dream world, a strange bird fluttered down a distance from her on the grass. But she felt no fear. Indeed, the bird seemed different from the demons of her world. She watched with wonder as it hopped along and cocked its head down, pecking in the grass before hopping along once more. There was a different sense about the place, that of a world that wasn't desperate and dying. She wanted to go and explore, but something held her back. She couldn't move from her spot and she found the vision beginning to fade.

Desperately, she tried to hold on; she didn't want it to go. Despite her attempts, the distance became foggier. She built the picture back in her mind, the vivid green that seemed to seep with life and freshness, the tender warmth and moisture of the air. But it was no use; it faded and, as quickly as it had come, she found herself back in her world, slumped against the cool stone wall with the wind and dust flashing around her.

Needles no longer tingled her skin. Her breath was coming in short gasps. She felt as though she had run a long way, or carried water up a steep slope. Her muscles felt weak and wobbly, and for a time, nausea bubbled in her throat. Nearby, she could sense the raiders. She imagined Gar, the flash of his blue eyes watching her suspiciously. Her eyes likely glowed like shepherd fires in the night. The best option was to keep her yes closed

She fell asleep like that, slumped against the wall, drained from the events of her day. Or she must have because, when she opened her eyes, the sun had slipped below the horizon and the wind had died from raging death to a much calmer tempest. Patches of evening sky filtered through the brown hazy clouds.

Roth and Nicin lay sleeping next to the fire. Where Gar had gone, she had no idea. She straightened up, biting her lip against the pain of her stiff back and neck. The air had cooled quickly and she shivered; her sleeveless robe was no match for the night of the steppes. She pulled her legs closer and tried to tuck her arms against them for warmth. Pain sliced her dry cracked lips, and she darted her tongue out to wet them, ending up with a mouthful of dust. Her throat convulsed like she had swallowed a sandstorm; she needed water, and it didn't look like she would get any for some time.

For the first time since the events of that morning, Aya had enough isolation to dwell on her situation and, suddenly, she felt—surrounded by hostile strangers, ruin, and wind—very much alone. She gazed skyward; darkness seeped into the harsh light of the day, leaving behind a dusky gloomy color that fit her mood and served to drop the temperature even further.

Nearby, a demon hooted. Owl. She sat up straight with fear. She was unaccustomed to facing the steppe nights alone. She listened carefully for any sign of attack. Did the demon detect her?

Scraping of stone against stone alerted her to danger. She sprang, well, actually she got tangled in her bindings and kind of stumble-flopped to standing. Too bad Roth had taken her dagger, though she did manage to grab a fistful of the rubble. It didn't seem menacing, but she had a strong throw. If she got lucky, she would put that demon bird's eye out. It lurked just on the other side of the wall; she could hear it approaching. She flung the stones—hard—in that direction.