The White Thorns of Fire

9 | town

The town of Dofrise bled into Mersem's vision just as they were going down the lowest peak from Hosten. He didn't say anything nor looked at anything more than a few glimpses of the houses beginning to light up their lamps in preparation of the night. A thick layer of snow covered most of the roofs, making them blend with the sheet of white all around the town. Dark green silhouettes of sarfire trees dotted the carpet of white every now and then but never as thick as the woodlands back in Hosten.

Mersem sniffed the air, getting a whiff of a perfect blend of fresh, pine needles, newly-fallen snow, and the dark and heavy musk of soil. It reminded him of home even though Falkmena was as flat as a barren field. He preferred it that way, though. He couldn't imagine having to trek every day just to go to places necessary for survival.

They have passed the town of Portensk a few days back and if they're lucky, they'd catch Silke and that mage boy just as they are leaving Dofrise. Mersem would like to do a number on that boy's face for touching his sister. Just he wait.

Leara's porae neighed, catching Mersem's attention. He glanced to his left to find her steering her steed closer to his. The strands of fur rimming her thick hood danced with the occasional cold breeze and the oscillating motion of their ride. "You're awfully quiet," she said. "Is there something wrong?"

He knitted his eyebrows. What's going on with Leara? Why was she acting so chummy when a few weeks ago, she was sure to rip his throat off his neck. When he glanced at their other companions, even Malon gave Mersem a quick wink and Fryth a solemn nod. Had he...had he finally succeeded in integrating himself inside their ranks? Maybe. Maybe not.

Perhaps, Leara was just gauging him and where his loyalty lay. After she had gotten her share, she'd decide whether to butcher him up herself or leave him for the possums to feed on like a fattened calf. He didn't like either option so he'd have to create a third: accomplish all his goals and leave in one piece and, hopefully, alive.

Mersem shook his head. "Just been thinking about a lot of things," he tapped a finger at the side of his head. "I guess the cold went inside and had a party there."

A chuckle shook Leara's shoulders. Her grip on the reins was loose and her spine remained without tension. "That's nice," she said. "Have you figured out what to do once you get your fair share of burams from this quest?"

He raised an eyebrow. "No, I don't," he looked at the horizon where the hills and trees spread on for miles until they became one with the sky. "I prefer to think about it when I already have it in my hands. There's a lot of uncertainty in this type of job, right?"

Leara hummed. "You have a point," she followed his gaze but her eyes remained passive and unseeing. "Well, just humor me. What would you do with your cut?"

"Assuming you guys would even let me get some," Mersem rolled his shoulders, bunching up his thick sleeves in the most uncomfortable of places.

"Of course, we will," she said, a hint of offense creeping into her tone. "Why would you think we wouldn't give you a share? You've managed to reduce our travel times by coming up with a deduction—which happened to be correct, by the way—about where the target would be going. You saved me in Aramale's shop even though you could have saved yourself and left me. Without you, we wouldn't even have figured out where the thief was staying three days ago or where we could corner her."