Rozmarie & Josiah

Rozmarie

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

I was moving.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

But where was I going?

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

I opened my eyes and—

Mist.

White mist billowed across the empty endless horizon. The White Wastelands. That's right. I'd actually done it. I'd actually left Quantara, made it past the Outer Wall to here, all the way out here. I blinked and focused on Prairie in front of me. He snored against Gypsy's neck, practically falling around it. We were on Gypsy. That was the moving. And then arms tightened the reins around me and I looked up. Josiah broke a strict stare ahead to peek down, the corner of his mouth twitching. Then I realized how I was laying. Right against him. With my back pressed firmly to his front and my mouth at the base of his neck. I sat forward quickly.

"Sorry," I brought a hand to my forehead. "How long have I been out?"

"A couple hours. We'll have to walk soon. Gypsy's getting tired."

I nodded and brought my hand down, then blinked into the thick mist. "Have you seen anything?"

He shook his head. I wanted to ask where we were going, but knew how stupid that sounded. Because Josiah didn't know. Nobody knew about the nothingness that surrounded the Quantara realm. That's why I wanted to get to it—here—so badly. Because there could be anything out here. Anything at all. I just wished I knew how far away it was.

"Thirsty?"

Actually, I was. And hungry too. And in desperate need of some of my smell-good cream. I glanced back with a nod and he directed us for the closest grouping of trees.

"We'll take a break here. Give Gypsy some time to rest," he jumped down easily. And then hooked his hands around my waist and lifted. Warmth tingled through me at the contact, but it died quickly because he placed me on the ground and moved for Prairie. "And eat something. Hey, kid," he tousled his shoulder. "Up. Let's eat."

"Do you have a lot of food?" I whispered.

"A few mini loaves," he shrugged. "You?"

"About the same."

"Prairie," he threw his arm over the sleeping boy and dragged him down off the horse. "Come on. You can sleep on the ground but Gypsy needs to rest."

"...sleepy..." he muttered as Josiah carried him one-armed and set him at the base of a tree. "...I's..."

"More for us," Josiah sat next to me and retrieved a small red pouch from his belt. He pried it open and pulled out an even smaller bag. Then he untied it and broke off a piece of berry-bread and popped it in his mouth. He offered me some.

I pinched a corner free of the crisp blue and red pastry. Good, but a few days old. Like it was made earlier in the week. Or last week. Was this what Josiah was used to eating? Days-old bread? We chewed in silence, picking off small pieces of the loaf until I retrieved my own—a poppy seed—and we did the same to that one.

"Here," I pulled out a nut and oats bar and handed it to Josiah. Then gestured at the hungry snout beside him. "For Gypsy. If she can eat this."

Josiah looked at me, surprised for a moment, as if I'd said the strangest thing. The corner of his mouth peaked, but then he washed it out with a nod before snapping the bar in half and feeding the first portion to his horse. He ran his hand down the flat plane of her nose and I couldn't help but notice how much he adored Gypsy.