The Given Children

Chapter 6

Now

And hour had passed and I was able to blink easier, move my eyes around and make the muscles in my face twitch. I was actually aware of my body now, could feel the texture of the rough, warm wood below me and the tightness of the belt cinched at my waist. It was horribly uncomfortable and my muscles were tense and burning from being trapped in the same position for so long, especially my shoulders from being pulled forward by the cloth around my wrists.

                I’d gotten past the despair and the fear that I’d felt earlier in my cell and then again in front of the Steward. Now I was just pissed. I wanted to spring from the cart and knock the Steward right off his horse so I could claw at his face and shove some potion down his throat.

I knew we’d left the town far behind when the trees started to thin and there were no more branches or leaves in my view of the sky. Our paced seemed to slow a little too, thankfully since the cart tended to rock and lurch when it went too fast, which resulted in me being helplessly tossed around.

                What I estimated to be a half hour later, I was able to move my fingers a bit, and that small motion caused all my knuckles to crack with a sickening sound. When we started to slow I worried that maybe the Steward had noticed that I was getting better and was going to dose me with something else but once the noise of the horses and cart grew quiet I heard the gurgling of a stream and assumed we were watering the horses. We were going to have to spend the next hours crossing the long stretch of dry, miserable Reidian desert and this was the chance to prepare.

                “Watch those two carefully- don’t let them talk to one another and get the girl out of the cart.” The Steward ordered. “You four might be witched with extreme stamina and endurance but the rest of us we’ll have to drink our fill if we’re to make it across the Reidian without dipping into the corpora.”

                That was just like him- to have a supply of potions that would keep us strong and hydrated and refuse to use them until one of us passed out. The Steward didn’t believe in waste. I saw the large, gentle Hunter who had carried me before, long dark brown hair pulled into a straggly ponytail at his neck, reach for me with large calloused hands, one under my knees and the other one trying to support my neck. I had enough control where I was able to keep it from completely flopping over but didn’t want to give too much away.

                With relief I saw Lapis and Daven, both shadowed by a Hunter who kept them a few yards away, looking tired and angry but for the most part okay. We all still looked like dirty hermits from our stay in prison but the excitement and anger was enough to put a spark back in their eyes, one I hadn’t seen in a while.

                Daven managed to look aloof and dignified as he knelt on a flat rock to dip his bound hands into the stream and splash his face, mostly just making the dirt turn to mud on him. Lapis seemed to be making quiet conversation with her Hunter, a stocky man with blonde hair and plain features who seemed surprised but happy enough to talk. There was something about the way she moved though that told me she was aware of everything around her and was trying to formulate a plan of action.

                My Hunter carried me over to a tree on the edge of the back whose roots bled into the river and provided a little niche for me to be placed in. It wasn’t the most comfortable seat but at least I was facing towards Lapis and Daven. The steward stood talking to the fourth Hunter while mine grabbed a small, black pack with a cap on one end- a water bag.

                He filled it in the stream-as Given Children we didn’t have to be worried about anything nasty that might be in the water- and held it to my lips, helping me tip my head a bit forward. I was able to hold my head straight and drank the water gratefully, knowing I’d be killing for it in a few hours. I gave him a grudging half smile, which he returned; an understanding that we couldn’t help our positions passing between us.