Wilder
Wilder woke with a start, weapons leaping into his hands as he sat up, blood surging through his veins. He swiveled the bow around, searching for the source of the noise that yanked him from dreams.
But he found nothing.
Windchaser let out a snort and shifted in his sleep, hoof scraping against the stone. For another minute, Wilder held the bow at the ready, waiting. But no monsters jumped from the trees or leapt out from behind the crumbling structure. Slowly, Wilder lowered his bow.
The sun crested the horizon, painting the treetops with gold. The jungle that felt threatening the night before appeared tame. Palms swayed in the breeze, lazy that morning. Birds twittered, singing a greeting to the dawn. It all seemed too peaceful while the details of slaughter still lived clear in Wilder's mind.
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Wilder leaned back against the rough wall, ignoring the jagged edges that dug into his back. He peered down at Lydia, only then realizing they had fallen asleep curled against each other. Had it been for comfort? Warmth? Or from years of wanting to be close? Maybe all three...
Wilder shook his head, shoving the thoughts from his mind. What did it matter? The life they'd planned for themselves, Lydia a royal ambassador free to travel all over with Wilder as her personal guard, remained nothing but ashes now. The future stood before them in an unknowable fog.
The sun stretched itself higher into the sky, laying out shadows along the stone floor for Wilder. This place held so much of his father that it grounded Wilder. He'd been given an order from the Commander of the Royal Guard and he would see it through: trust no one and protect Lydia.
That meant they needed to get out of the West Isles. Crossing the island to the southern port wasn't an option. They risked being caught along the way. They needed to get out as quickly as possible. That meant heading back into the city to find a ship. Wilder had money in his saddlebags. Along with the emeralds Lydia wore in her ears and around her neck, they could buy passage. But Lydia...
He watched her stir, mumble something then settle back into sleep. Her hair splayed around her, haloing her head. She would have to disguise herself. She could wear his second set of clothes. They would have to find boots since all she wore were her dancing slippers. As for her hair...he didn't have a hat. It would have to be cut and tied into a tail, a common enough style for boys. Beyond that, he didn't know how much he could alter her appearance.
When warm rays touched Wilder's face, he gazed around at the day. The port would be open by now. Was it best to wake her now and try to reach the city before more people woke? Or was it better to use the crowds to hide themselves? Wilder reached for Lydia's shoulder but stopped. How could he wake her when all it meant that she'd face again the reality that her family was dead?
The choice fell from Wilder's hands as Lydia rolled onto her back and blinked up at the sky. A frown wrinkled her forehead as if she expected to find the gilded ceiling of her bedroom. Invisible fingers dug into Wilder's gut as the sleepy confusion drifted into solemn acknowledgment. When she met Wilder's eyes, he saw her tears were gone, for now, leaving behind deep sorrow.
Unable to stop himself, he brushed his fingers across her face, needing to comfort her but helpless to know how. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch, accepting it with silent gratitude.
"I'm going to get you out of the West Isles," he said.
She blinked, those mesmerizing chocolate eyes staring at him with utter faith.
"How?"
Wilder laid out how she'd be disguised and how he'd use the money to find a way out. Nodding, Lydia pushed herself up.
"Where are the clothes?" she asked.
Despite everything, Wilder felt a bit of hope that he hadn't lost her completely. When he handed Lydia the bundled garments, she paused, thinking.
"Do you have bandages in your pack?" she asked.
Without asking why, Wilder handed them over. Lydia looked around but stopped when nothing near them offered concealment without putting her in the unknown jungle. She cleared her throat, cheeks turning pink.
"Please turn around," she said.
Wilder started, embarrassment burning his face as he put his back to her, his bow in hand. The jungle bubbled with life, the music of it filling Wilder's ears and he concentrated on it, letting it be the only thing he thought about. Not about what Lydia was doing behind him. He could not think of that. He gripped his bow tighter, grappling his thoughts into submission.
When Lydia tapped him on the shoulder, he let out a relieved breath. Being a head shorter than him made the pants too long but she'd used his extra belt to keep them up and cuffed the ends. The shirt drowned her but she rolled up the sleeves so she had access to her hands.
Wilder paused in his assessment of her, noticing she no longer had curves. Before he could ask, understanding what she needed the bandages for hit him. He cleared his throat, struggling to focus his thoughts again.
"We're going to have to cut your hair," he said.
Lydia swept her ebony hair over her shoulder, trailing her fingers through the thickness before nodding. Taking out his knife, Wilder tied her hair into a tail and took the whole of it in his fist.
For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to do it. How many times had he wanted to run his hands through her hair? Watched her toss her head back, letting the wind blow it wild?
Steeling himself, he cut through it, the strands going limp in his hand. When he pulled back, Lydia touched the blunt ends but said nothing. In comparison to all she'd already lost, this held little weight. Neither of them said anything, neither of them wanted to talk about how vastly different their lives had become in less than a day. Wilder set her hair on top of her dress.
"There's a spring past the ruins," he said. "We can refill the water skin and wash up a little."
Lydia gazed out over the ruins and the jungle beyond. "How far off?"
Wilder pointed through a flacking archway. "Only a short walk past there."
Lydia nodded, but when Wilder grabbed the water skin and took a step, she didn't move.
"I want to stay here," she said.
"Ly, you can't it's not-"
"Wilder. Please."
At the pleading note in her voice, he took in her knotted fingers and misty eyes.
"You'll only be gone a moment," she said. "That's all I'm asking for."
Still, Wilder couldn't move. How could he leave her here alone, exposed?
"I could command you to leave," she said, a bit of her old spirit returning.
"You could but I'm not likely to obey."
She touched his arm. "I need a moment."
Reluctantly, Wilder gave in. Unstrapping his dagger from around his waist, he held it out to her.
"You remember what my father taught you, don't you?"
Lydia didn't respond as she stared at the knife and looked like she might throw up.
"If you don't take it, I'm not willing to leave you."
Swallowing, Lydia accepted the weapon. Wilder didn't want to leave her. It didn't matter that the spring lay just beyond the edge of the ruins and he would be in shouting distance, she needed protection.
"No, I can't-"
"Wilder, leave."
He knew that tone, one that dared him to refuse her. Using all his strength, he turned away and put one foot in front of the other. As he passed Windchaser, he whispered to the horse.
"Keep an eye on her," he said.
The horse shook its mane in acceptance. Once Wilder moved through the archway, he quickened his steps. He would leave, but that didn't mean he would leave her for long. He didn't hesitate as the ruins ended and the jungle started, he knew this path. A path created over time with his father.
As Wilder corked the water skin, a shrill whiny cut through the air. Dropping the water skin, Wilder crashed through the jungle, heart screaming at him to run faster. He notched an arrow as he careened through the archway, letting it fly. It struck the first attacker in the shoulder and the second slammed into the upper arm of the other.
Shouting to each other, the men spun their horses around and kicked them into a run. Wilder chased after them, letting arrow after arrow find a new target, but both riders managed to stay mounted as they vanished into the dense foliage. Swearing, Wilder raced to Lydia, who stood frozen, eyes wide. He cupped her face, ran his hands down her arms searching.
"Ly, where did they get you? Are you hurt? Are you okay?"
The question flew at her, shot through with anxiety. She shook her head.
"No," she croaked. "They didn't...They only tried to grab me..."
On the ground by Lydia's feet, Wilder spotted his dagger, still sheathed. Anger exploded inside him and he gripped her shoulders.
"Why didn't you fight them? Why didn't you use the dagger! You could have been killed! You didn't even scream! Ly, I can't...You can't freeze, I need you! I can't lose you!"
When Lydia pressed her face against his chest, clenching his shirt in her fists, Wilder's anger fizzled.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't...I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she breathed over and over again.
Wilder held her but barely registered it, his mind in chaos. The rest of the royal family was dead, but these men hadn't attacked Lydia, instead tried to grab her. From their higher position, it would have been a simple act to cut her down with a sword. Why hadn't they killed her? Why had they run instead of fight? By the stars, what was going on?
Amidst the storm of confusion, he felt Lydia clinging to him and found one slice of clarity: protect Lydia, get her out of the West Isles.
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"Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten."
(I feel like this is too soon. My bad.)
Despite it being too short and therefore aggravating you with wanting more, what did you think of the chapter? 🏹🛡⚔️
I thought that in these author's notes I would make them amusing by talking to the characters...that was until I'm emotionally scarred them and they don't want to talk to me. Well, not now anyway.
Maybe later on when everyone isn't so damaged we can have a conversation. Though they might yell at me so I'm not sure I'm really looking forward to that.
And now I sound crazy...yet again. Yay.
Question for you before we get to the question for me: What is the story behind your username?
I know I've asked this is A Vagabond's Tale but some of you weren't with me when I updated that story and so I want to know.
Reader question from dkrthk: What inspired you to try a 4 character POV story?
Jawapan penulis (malay): I originally planned for this book to only be from Lydia's POV, but then Alwyn started showing up as such an interesting character that I wanted to know her side of the story. But only have two girl POV didn't feel right.
So my sister JoymomentsEditor suggested I do 4 POV adding Zavier and Cyrus. But then as I went on I realized Wilder made more sense. And I've never done multiple POVs and thought 'what the heck, let's do this'. That's how it all began. And now I'm embarking on the wildest adventure of my writing career.
Vote, comment, follow because you love me.