Burning To Cinders

Merchants and Hues

He skirted the outskirts of the village, despite the cloak of night. The party was tense, and she watched with her heart in her throat with each congenial nod he gave a passer-by that hurried homeward. The pistol was hidden in her Stepmothers skirts, but she felt the terror she felt must surely shine from her pale face. Eric however rode casually, the line of his shoulder relaxed and if not for the tight grip he had on his reins, he would seem perfectly tranquil. A few men, already full of drink, called out to him to join but with an easy grin he declined, his voice perfectly even. However, with each encounter, his speed increased slightly, eager to be through the busier areas. Twisting through buildings, she looked around startled. He was taking her through one of the new settlements, yet the hastily erected lean-tos struck her as dilapidated and she took it in wide-eyed. Hungry eyes from within stared back at her, the party drawing attention. A child, barefoot in rags, stood in the doorway to a shack to her left, silently watching with shiny eyes. With a pang she took in the skeletal form and realised she had mistook her to be a young boy, instead she was a teenage girl with her hair cropped short. Before Cindy could speak the girl turned and melted away into the darkness of her dwelling.

“How could there be so many?” Cindy whispered, forgetting the tense silence, the pistol in her side. Eric glanced at her, his attention divided between worrying for her and analysing their situation.

“The Kings shelters were demolished to make way for new barracks,” He said quietly, outrage flooded her.

“By whose authority?” She demanded, he just blinked. “Prince Charmon?” Another blink and he turned back forward. Their surroundings fuelled the embers of her hatred, igniting it to its former glory for the Prince. In times of peace as they were, what could he possibly gain from displacing his subjects in favour of an army? She had begun to voice her question when her Stepmother cut her off.

“Your voice vexes me, be silent,” The order was accompanied by a jab with the pistol and she winced, the flesh of her side tender with its abrasive intrusion. Obediently she fell silent, turning back to her outrage at her surroundings. The Kings health must have deteriorated far beyond expectation; he would never allow his subjects to live in such conditions. Something occurred to her and she furrowed her brow, incredulous. The Prince had gone years quietly, what could have changed for him to hunt for the stolen coin so earnestly? Was it connected to the new barracks? What was the Prince planning? Her train of thought was cut short as Eric changed their direction, setting out across a clear field, stopping before a wall of bush.  By this time the moon had hung itself high in the comfort of its dark blanket, full and clear it provided all the light they needed. Its silver cast settled over Eric, highlighting his troubled expression, the long straight line of his nose above his firmly pressed mouth. For all his tense features, his eyes were unfathomable.

“Why have we stopped?” Her Stepmother demanded, Eric had dismounted and continued to survey the line of bush before him, eyes narrowed as they sought to pick something out. The wind picked up in a bitter chill and she shuddered, pulling her cloak tighter around her. The movement startled her Stepmother, who responded by raising the pistol and whipping her hard across the back of her head. In a mixture of surprise and pain, Cindy cried out, losing her sitting. Falling awkwardly, she hit the ground hard, jarring her shoulder and biting through her lip. Tasting the copper of blood she rolled slightly on her front, clutching at her shoulder with a pained groan. “Stay there!” Her Stepmother commanded and Cindy twisted to see Eric halfway to her, his face white with fury.

“Why did you hit her?” He asked, his voice low. The tone she recognised as his last degree of control and she forced herself to sit up, not to wince as her side burned through.

“I do not make idle threats Captain, if she tries to escape again I will not be so kind,” Her Stepmother responded in the same tone. The look in his eye was murderous and he visibly trembled with the effort of keeping himself steady.