Luck's Fool

Cardio

"Get the hell up, Endo," Laurel shouted at me. "Rosco barely grazed you," she said as she brushed down her bay gelding.

I stood, weak kneed as I dusted myself, allowing the nausea to subsided a bit. "It doesn't take much if the kick is just right, dumbass."

She flipped her golden hair across her smooth, muscular shoulders, glancing at me with her blue eyes. "That's the problem with the world," she said eyeing me with pity, or disgust. It was hard to make out which between the tears blurring my vision. "Everyone thinks that men make the best warriors when a little flick fells you sodding shits like a well axed tree."

I moved to the log by the campfire. "That's the fourth time this week, Laurel. It happens again I'm roasting your fucking mule," I seethed as I lit my index finger on fire.

"Please, no," came Petra's soft voice as she emerged from the tent. "I hate wasting my magic to regrow your eyebrows."

That drew a derisive smirk from Laurel.

Betrayal. Why couldn't you support in my threat, Petra? I pursed my lips as I squinted at her. She ignored me and tended to the fire, our meal simmering in the large pot.

"Just sit there and stay useless," Laurel commanded as she pulled her saddle from Rosco. "We don't need to deal with another shitstorm because you wanted to help with something."

I turned and laid my back against the log, staring up at the dusky sky with a deep sigh. She wasn't wrong. I was a mess when it came to doing most chores. I tried to help set up the tent once. Ended up punching a hole through the roof and the girls made me sleep under it. It rained that night. The day after that I tried to help with the cooking and ended up burning everything, wasting a quarter of our rations in the process. The girls made me eat all the burnt food so none of it went to waste. And I absolutely refuse to help with the horses anymore. I want to have kids one day. Not like that dream would ever come true anyhow as my luck with women was clearly affected by the curse as well. 

I am pretty much resigned to menial tasks that could have minimal impacts on our trio. Gathering firewood was the bulk of my work. Not complaining as it resulted in less work for me. I didn't care that Laurel had to do a large bulk of the manual labor, but I did feel bad for Petra as she was always kind and never said a foul word about it.

"Here," came Petra as she approached, bowl in hand. She set it down on the ground in front of me, a few feet away. There tended to be a bad habit of hot liquids dousing me whenever they were handed off.

"Thanks," I said as I sat down on the ground and dragged the fish soup slowly towards me. I leave bowls on whatever surfaces they are placed onto, never picking them up. I leaned far over as I ate, keeping the food from spilling onto my clothes. I had found unique ways to deal with the hand I had been dealt, not all of them were perfect but trial and error had led me to a moderate degree of success which resulted in living by a series of rules to combat my ill begotten luck.

Laurel joined us a moment later as she helped herself to the soup pot. She sighed as she rolled a spoonful in her mouth, then swallowed. "Your soup is the best Petra!"

Petra smiled quietly at her as she ate. Laurel would have told her the soup was amazing even if it was made from dog turds. Her infatuation with Petra was blatant, but honestly, who could blame her ? Petra was beautiful. Soft, fair skin, green eyes, her tiny mask of freckles across the bridge of her nose complimenting her chestnut hair. Her body was not muscular, like Laurel's, but it wasn't devoid of shape either. All the curves were just right. Her beauty, remarkable as it was, was not the thing I found most appealing about her. It was her loyalty, superseded only by her kindness. Her fierce determination and resolve that only showed up once in a while when her friends were in trouble. I admired it and returned it as best I could. Personally, I believed she just had a caregiver's complex. Someone who was driven to take care of those who couldn't tend to themselves, which is how we became friends in the first place. I had no chance with a girl like Petra. I knew it and so did Laurel.