She dug a handful of keys and tossed them to a man sitting at a close by table.
“Close things up for me, love?” She asked.
“Sure thing. These bodies go with the rest, then?”
“Yup.”
“You have a regular problem with those?” Railan asked, stepping over both bodies.
“The drinks are never enough, it only gets them thirsty for fresh. If I'm here, they never make out. I've seen what they can do first-hand.”
Railan followed her behind the bar, through a tiny room with a small cot. She picked up her satchel, stuffed a few pieces of clothing inside, then grabbed a block of cheese, several rolls of bread, and few apples. She rolled her bedding and tied the ends with a small cord. Lastly, she dragged over a rickety stool and stepped on it, then reached up to open a small cabinet with faux backing revealing several knives, daggers and pistols. Each weapon found a secure place. Finally, she opened the door revealing beautiful moonlight, illuminating the trees and bushes, casting shadows in menacing directions. A wave of cool air rushed over them, and she shivered. The air smelled heavily of pine and river water.
Railan walked to his horse, adjusting the saddle and adding his own bag and bedroll to the back. “Now, like I said, my horse isn't a mule, so you'll be doing a lot of walking. I don't have time to listen to whining.”
“The only one whining is you,” Bexley said, sitting on her own horse. “I didn't say I needed a ride, just an escort.”
He mumbled something unintelligible, and mounted his horse. Her attitude was infuriating. If she wasn't holding that bottle, he would turn around and go the other way. He had no reason to revisit Wolfpine, not after what they had done to him. Anger bubbled in his chest. He coughed again, leaving another splattering trail of blood on his sleeve. He needed the potion, and his only hope was getting her safely inside the city gates, something she couldn't do on her own. His blood held the key, only his people could safely go in and out, everyone else was either banned or held captive. A system his ancestors had put into place to protect the city and to keep their slaves from escaping. The only problem now, was he had been banished, threatened with execution if he ever returned. They couldn't stop him from entering the city, but they could surely stop him from leaving again.
They followed the trail for a few miles when the air became thick with smoke. Railan dismounted, feeling the leaves of the trees and smelling the air.
As they rounded the next bend, they heard the crackling of a fire and a woman crying in the distance. As the grew closer, they watched as the bright flames of fire raged through the night engulfing the small village before them.
“The land is burning,” Bexley whispered.
“And I know who did it,” Railan said.
Thanks so much for sharing this me! Whenever a new prompt is released, I always ask myself if it fits an ongoing story and I really felt like "the land is burning" was best used here! For more info about freewrites check out @mariannewest! If you would like to read parts 1 and 2, they are linked below!
Much love,
Stacie D
Image by Hans Braxmeier from Pixabay
