A Woman Scorned
"This is crazy!" Aurianne had exclaimed. "Can't you see Isabou has gone almost five days without water! Look at her Mr Brannon! Look at her! She can't possibly go much longer!"
Jhary sighed at the angry outburst. "Please Aurianne, try and understand the water on the ground and the plant life is now very poisonous. You just can't let your horse eat it, she will sicken and die."
"Well we can't just stand here either, what do you propose we do then?"
The bard had not expected this and struggled in the face of heated Aurianne's tirade. He had never been good in the face of aggression. Let alone from a woman he was beginning to have a very strong affection for.
"Please, just one more day Aurianne?" Having said this he gathered up the remaining canteen and held it out to the angry redhead.
"There is a large river here not too distant, on the strength of that information let your horse drink the water that remains. Then we will fashion a muzzle for her so she does not eat any of the contaminated foliage, tomorrow we shall take her straight to the river. That I promise. At least the dampness by then will have dried, and we will make our way to the Bridge. Please, Aurianne listen to me."
Such appealing and disarming brown eyes Aurianne thought, as she clutched the last almost full canteen in her arms.
"All right." She sighed and made to fashion a leather trough out of the body of her coat that Isabou may drink.
Kario sat idly on the pump housing piping loathe to contribute to the argument that had raged most of the day. He was most tired of it honestly. He had found Jhary's vehement caution most strange. He personally felt there was nothing to fear, but had given up trying to explain this to his companions. He was weary of being told the exposure had possibly already made him sick. Kario felt absolutely fine.
*****
The next morning found Kario up and staring at the dawning sky, perhaps he had never slept, accommodations were hardly conducive to any sort of restfulness. He had frequently walked outside much to Jhary's insistence he not do so. The dark man chose to ignore him.
"Would you look at that!" Kario exclaimed.
Both Jhary and Aurianne peered through the door of the shelter. Big Isabou keenly nudged her mistress in the hope of pushing further and gaining long-awaited access to the outdoors. The sky was the vaguest hint of rosy pink.
"Oh!" Aurianne exclaimed in wonder.
"The upper atmosphere is cleansing itself." Jhary indicated.
Aurianne didn't know about that, but she was overjoyed to see some difference in the sky once again. Even more delighted as the party prepared to depart to sight the hints of soft blues behind the clouds as the sun rose. There were even some shafts of stray sunlight. On seeing this Aurianne felt great joy. She had fashioned a crude muzzle for her horse and was warned on no account to let the mare try to eat. She tacked up her beloved mare and added a short eating reign to help prevent Isabou from the temptation of grazing.
I guess we are ready." Jhary announced, as much as he felt he was not. He led the way from the iron shelter to what he hoped was the vast river valley and floodplain he remembered snaking below.
Isabou fought heartily with Aurianne, and she found she had to ride to at least get some control of her hungry and thirsty mount. This would be a long trip she thought silently as she struggled to control the two thousand pound mare, who desperately tried to grasp every mouthful of plant life she passed by heedless of the muzzle.
They had only gone a short way when the trio came on a sobering sight, Jhary's mare lying on her back already bloated in death. Hooves pointed skyward. It appeared as though she had not died a dignified death either. Beauty ran about the carcass sniffing wildly, as Jhary paused to retrieve his saddlebags.
"Now this is what I'm talking about." Jhary finally had some visible benchmark to illustrate the point he had so struggled to communicate earlier. "Killed by radiation from the sky."
He struggled to pull the leather bags out from under the mare's dead weight, the saddle was irretrievable. Aurianne kept turning and staring back at the mare even long after she had ridden away. Making far more effort to ensure her horse didn't touch anything at all. It seemed Jhary had not been telling stories.
They had walked all morning, the sun breaking the clouds on occasion to cast the world in light. Its presence was uplifting. At midday, they sighted the river.
"We will head there, the water I hope should be somewhat safe. We have little choice but to drink it." Jhary stated and led the way, saddlebags slung over his shoulder, guitar in its battered case dangling in hand.
*****
They let Isabou drink, she stood quietly, muzzle hovering over the waters slurping at intervals eyes half closed. Aurianne too was thirsty, but now she was doubtful to so mindlessly imbibe. Jhary had said the waters were possibly less contaminated. Perhaps she would try and wait until they got to this town? She noted that Jhary did the same, though Kario seemed to find no issue with drinking his fill.
"The Bridge will be further to the southwest, I hope not too far." Perhaps there we can get your horse safe hay and decent rations for ourselves?"
Aurianne nodded to Jhary and took up her mount's reins. Isabou seemed to be content now she had sated her thirst, and allowed herself to be led far more easily. Aurianne was glad of it, this morning had been a struggle.
*****
They had eaten the last of the flatbread weeks ago, but Dwayne thought about it incessantly for the duration of the homeward journey. Unlike the older men in his clan, he had been no more than twelve when the bombings had disintegrated polite society. He was struggling to remember his schooling and the foods he ate as a child. He spent more time longing for what he had and knew presently than fretting over the absence of anything that had gone before.
He often listened in puzzlement to the elder members of his clan speak about so many things he had little to no recollection of. Things like porn, beer, and ice cream. Those things seemed strange and trivial to him, phantasms almost. He sensed Jormugar felt the same, they belonged firmly in the present, even with its adversities.
Jormugar had felt better in subsequent days, however, he puzzled over his strange and sudden sickness. At times he still felt uncharacteristic weakness and headaches. Though being a creature of the wild he had an endurance most could not match, and he kept pace with his captors giving no sign he was weakened.
His weapons were not returned to him, though he had expected that. At least he was no longer bound. He didn't ask what the strange metallic cylinders were for, or contained. Working for the likes of men like Master Jacques had taught the young man to be very judicious with what he said. He simply did as he was asked, got paid, and pondered it no more.
Gareth was content. He had secured the prize of a new future, and his latest deed would cement his position as the second most powerful man in the clan. Though the return journey would be slow and lengthy, he felt unusually satisfied. He cast his eyes back to the four horses, they looked tired but not alarmingly so. Tired horses were often obedient horses, the last thing he needed now was one flighty animal to undo all they had gained.
He again pondered the handsome, brown-haired man who strode behind. Gareth sensed no malice there. Though he was very unsure if the man had completely confessed the entire truth during the rough interrogation. This Jormugar seemed very independent and calm, he looked strong and capable and if he could be trusted, a worthy addition to the tribe's warrior rank.
Gareth had spent some time the night before perusing the young man's possessions that were stowed in his saddlebags. This self-confessed bounty hunter was certainly not an individual of scant means. He possessed gold and plenty of it. Unlike others, he displayed none of this wealth on his person. Choosing wisely to keep his abundant riches out of plain sight.
Gareth had returned all of the man's belongings to the saddlebags, handing back to Jormugar his rabbit cape, and bedroll. The young man had received the items gratefully, for the nights were still very cold. Though desirable Jormugar's wealth was not Gareth's to distribute, but that of his leader Wezley Bennett. The wealth did mesh with the story of hunting scalps, Gareth knew very well that there was good coin to be made with that unsavory and dangerous work. Though instinctively Gareth still felt the young man had not revealed everything.
*****
Dahlia had not been herself since the fall of the black rain. Though nothing here had appeared to outwardly change. Except perhaps her little ones were forbidden to go outside into the manicured gardens, where despite the cold they had so loved to play.
