"I don't know what we're going to face. The dragon is the only thing we are sure of, which is hardly comforting," I sigh.
"It's an adventure,"
"An adventure that has claimed the lives of many,"
"But did they have our blood magic?" Ben says doubtfully.
"I suppose that they didn't. But it might not make much of a difference. They were fully trained warriors, and in tens. We're only three," I say with a sigh.
"And only one of us is that skilled at magic," Bowen grunts unapologetically.
"Fair enough," I answer, "Only one of us is skilled with a sword."
"And only one of us is a fool from a different world," Ben mutters, brushing a branch out of his way silently.
"Think positively," I suggest, "We're not getting anywhere with that attitude."
"No one ever has," Bowen agrees.
"If we manage to find this garden, avoid being eaten alive by a dragon, and make it back to the town, then I'll be positive," Ben says.
"Fair enough," I sigh.
The trees create a dappled pattern of light on the ground. We travel in silence for what could be hours, or only minutes. Time slows and speeds up on it's own watch.
I stop at a small clearing, where the sun warms my face.
"Let's take a short break," I say. There's no good in spending all of our energy, it will only make us weaker in the end.
Bowen nods and falls back onto his haunches. Ben sits down against the log and closes his eyes in the light. I lean against a tree and pull my water-skin out of my bag, drinking my fill.
"Don't drink all your water Bee," Bowen reminds me, "I don't believe that there are many rivers or streams nearby."
"I'll live," I say, but push the water back into my shoulder bag.
"Where are we going anyways Bowen?" Ben asks eventually, opening his eyes.
Bowen grunts and a paper scroll lifts out of his leather gauntlets, courtesy of his magic. It floats into his eyesight and unravels itself. A map.
The yellowed edges unfurl gently and Bowen nears his nose to the parchment, reading the little names of places with an easiness that makes me frown.
From where I stand I can recognize Ogya, and the hill, the temple. He traces his nose along the parchment, keeping his eyes close to the paper, eyeing the ink.
"So?" I ask after a while.
"Shush," Bowen says simply, but gentler than usual. I observe the vastness of the forest east of Ogya, and the size of the land in comparison to the town. I always thought Ogya a big world of it's own.
Yet it's merely a speck of dust on a map, only a notch in the grand scheme of things.
The forest expands at least five times larger than our town, and there are no marked trails, or any clear indication- at least for me- of the Garden.
"We go east until we near the ocean," Bowen decides, "From there we'll need to search the forest around. I'm not sure exactly how the garden presents itself, if it is hidden, or has spells to deter our sight. Either way, it won't be easy."
"We'll manage," I say, and push myself off of the tree.
"I hope so," Ben says. I pull him off of the ground and Bowen stands.
YOU ARE READING
Fevered
Short Story{completed} Beatrice has always been a misfit in Ogya. She is merely a foundling, raised by a widowed baker, best friends with a lion. She's never known more than that. When a mysterious condition threatens the life that she has made for herself...
