Morwen
After what seemed like hours, the forest began to thin, and the trees parted, revealing a narrow valley. A dirt path wound its way down the rocky slope, twisting and turning, until it disappeared into a thicket of trees. Morwen and Zack trudged through the snow, their boots sinking into the wet, muddy ground with each step.
The sun was just beginning to rise above the mountains, casting an orange glow on the surrounding landscape. The air was crisp and fresh, with a slight hint of pine. Morwen breathed deeply, taking in the scent. It was a welcome relief after spending so much time in the forest.
"Where do you think we are?" Zack asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.
"I'm not sure," Morwen replied. "It looks like we're in a valley, but I don't recognize the landmarks."
Morwen's body ached with every step, her weary legs protesting against the unforgiving terrain. She could feel the weight of exhaustion pulling her down, threatening to engulf her completely. But Zack linked his arm around her waist, lending her his strength and support. Helping her walk most of the way.
Continuing east, they had been travelling for three days, their progress hindered by the treacherous landscape. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the trees thinned and became more scarce. A once dense forest gradually gave way to a more sparse terrain.
A soft sound of water reached Morwen's ears in the distance. It grew louder with each passing moment, a gentle symphony of nature guiding them forward. They approached the backs of a shallow river. Green water danced in turbulent ripples around white rocks. Morwen's heart swelled with relief as she shed her heavy coat, feeling its weight being lifted, both literally and figuratively, from her shoulders. The grass tickled her tired legs as she sat down on the riverbank, allowing herself a moment of respite amidst the tranquil ambiance.
Zack unburdened himself of his weapons, carefully placing them beside Morwen's coat. His swords glinted in the sunlight. He settled onto a large rock next to her, their shoulders nearly touching.
Removing her leather shoes, she winced in pain as her foot emerged, coated in blood. Hours of walking had formed, blisters now burst from the friction. Dipping them in the icy river numbed the pain. It was a pleasant feeling, refreshing almost. They sat in silence, listening to the water as it rushed past them. Feeling happy for the first time in days.
Tilting her head to the side, Morwen glanced over at her brother. A mischievous grin formed on her lips. Catching him off guard, she threw all her weight into her arms, shoving him into the water. He flailed around, splashing his arms in reaction to the cold. The water was no deeper than his knees, yet he looked like he was about to drown. Morwen burst into a fit of giggles. She watched as he got his footing and stood only to slip and fall back into the water face first. She laughed harder at the scene, holding her sides at the pain in her chest.
"You monster," he yelled, sputtering water out of his mouth and nose.
Like a giant wet tidal wave, he leapt at Morwen, knocking her off the rock with a splash. Cold water flooded over her body. Gasping, she burst upright. This time, it was Zack wearing the grin.
"You needed a bath. You're welcome," he joked.
"I don't think my clothes will forgive you!" Morwen snapped back.
"That dress seen worse." He rubbed his finger through his damp hair. "We should buy new clothes when we reach a village."
Morwen agreed. Her blue dress clung to her skin. She poked her fingers through one of the many tears in her skirt as it floated around her legs in the water. She would have felt insecure about it had she been with anyone else.
"Maybe they will have a nice tunic for you. Maybe one with some flowers embroidered on it." Morwen chuckled.
"Or a nice pink dress for you," Zack quipped.
"Don't you dare," Morwen said.
Zack smirked, his gaze drifting from the sky back to the river.
They swam in the water, not paying attention to time, in no rush to move on. Morwen scrubbed the dirt from her skin. She raked her finger through her long raven hair, removing leaves and twigs picked up along the journey. After washing clean, she climbed on the bank, laying on a patch of grass. She closed her eyes, with a contented sigh. Tilting her head towards the sun, soaking in its warm summer heat. Beads of water drew lines on her skin, dripping down into the grass. The warmth was welcome after enduring the cold of the mountain for days. Her clothes dried quickly in the heat.
Morwen had never been this far away from home. Travellers told wild stories of the things that lay beyond their village. Half of them seemed too far-fetched to believe.
"Hey," he said, pointing to something floating in the distance. "Do you see that?"
Morwen followed his line of sight. In the distance, something floated down the river. It looked like a piece of driftwood. As it drew closer, Morwen realised that it wasn't a piece of wood. It was a person.
"Zack, there's a person floating down the river!" Morwen shouted, panic rising in her voice.
"Quick, get him before he floats away!" Zack jumped to his feet, his eyes wide with shock.
The two of them raced to the shoreline, their bare feet sliding on the slick rocks. The river carried the unconscious body towards them. Reaching out, Morwen grabbed his arm, pulling him onto the riverbank. Zack kneeled, checking for signs of life.
"He's breathing," Zack said. "I think he's alive."
"We need to get him warm," Morwen said, her voice trembling with concern.
Together, they dragged the man out of the water and onto the grass. He was dressed in a heavy winter coat, and his boots were soaked through. His dark hair was matted with mud and debris.
"We need to get him out of these wet clothes," Zack said. "We can wrap him in my cloak and build a fire."
Morwen nodded. The two of them carefully removed the man's coat and boots. His clothes were soaked through, his skin cold to the touch.
Zack draped his coat over the man's naked body, while Morwen hurried to collect firewood. With a quick motion, her knife sliced through a piece of wood, the bark peeling back easily. She made a small hole in the ground. Pushing a small pile of twigs into it. Next, she used the Flint and steel wool from Zacks pack to strike a spark, creating a flame. The wood caught fire, the crackling sound filling the air.
Zack pulled the man closer to the flames, letting the heat warm him.
He opened the man's coat, revealing his muscular chest. He had several tattoos adorning his torso. Morwen found herself drawn to the intricate designs. One, in particular, stood out. A large raven was depicted on his chest. Its wings were spread wide, as if ready to take flight. She couldn't help but stare at it, admiring the way the light danced across the inky black feathers.
"Look," Morwen said, her eyes sparkling with wonder. "His tattoo"
Zack cursed under his breath, reconising the tattoo. it was the same sigil the soldiers who attacked to their village wore.
"What is it?" Morwen asked, her voice tinged with worry.
"Nothing, it's nothing," he muttered, his brow furrowing.
Zack knew exactly what it meant. The tattoo was a symbol of the King's army. Their king had sent soldiers to raid and pillage the village.
"We have to keep moving," Zack said, his tone urgent.
"But he's still unconscious," Morwen protested.
"It doesn't matter. We have to leave. Now."
Reluctantly, Morwen rose to her feet. She didn't want to leave the stranger behind, but she trusted her brother.
It wasn't until the sun began its descent that they finally reached a village nestled along their path.
As they neared the village, the serene countryside transformed into a muddy maze of streets. Thick layers of this sludge clung to Morwen's shoes, threatening to hold them captive. Each step became an uphill battle as she trudged through, the weight of the mud dragging her down.
Simple cottages with thatched roofs lined the narrow lanes, their weathered exteriors blending perfectly with the surrounding landscape. Morwen's gaze swept across the adobe walls, noticing thin layers of soil splattered upon them, evidence of countless journeys undertaken by weary travellers and villagers alike.
Something about this little town didn't resonate with Morwen. The monotonous shades of brown that enveloped the buildings mirrored the colour of the road, giving the village an aura of sameness. There was a distinct lack of vibrancy, both in its appearance and in the atmosphere that hung heavy in the air.
Morwen couldn't help but wonder, 'Who would ever want to live in such a place? Mud everywhere.' Despite her reservations, Morwen decided to keep her thoughts to herself. Her thoughts wandered to Galena, she missed her friend deeply. She so badly hoped her friend had escaped the horror of Idrae that day.
As the duo meandered through the village, they glimpsed snippets of everyday life. The aroma of fresh bread mingled with the laughter of children playing in the streets. Shopkeepers haggled over produce, Morwen felt her throat tighten at the sight. Zack guided her off the street, his arm looped through hers.
A bell rang as they entered a quaint shop, announcing their arrival to the shopkeeper. The sound resonated throughout the cramped space, jingling in harmony with Morwen's racing heartbeat. She glanced around, taking in the dimly lit interior and walls lined with rolls of fabric. It was a tailor's shop, she noted.
Behind the counter stood a wide-framed woman with greying hair, her eyes permanently squinting from years of needlework.
"Good day to you both," the woman greeted them, her voice weary but warm. She eyed Morwen up and down, her gaze betraying her assessment of the sorry state of her attire. She made her way over to them, the shopkeeper's lips curled into a faint smile as her fingers traced the destroyed fabric.
Muttering under her breath. "It seems you've come to the right place. Oh no, this simply won't do." She shook her head, her fingers continuing to rub the tattered dress, as if coaxing it to regain its former glory.
Morwen's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
She mustered the courage to speak up, though her voice trembled slightly. "I'm looking for a new dress, don't suppose you have anything in my size?" Her words faltered, reflecting her uncertainty.
The woman's eyes brightened with kindness. "Dresses, no," she shook her head. "You won't find a woman wearing no dress around here. Tis' not convenient."
Zack nodded his head in agreement, a subtle understanding passing between the two. It was not about conforming to societal norms, but rather finding practicality in their circumstances. As the tailor deftly took Morwen's measurements, Zack admired the meticulous craftsmanship of the shop. Bolts of fabric in every imaginable colour lined the shelves, while patterns and scissors lay strewn across the counter, waiting to bring creations to life. The air was alive with the scent of freshly woven wool and the subtle hint of lavender. The shopkeeper waddled around the shop, her plump form bustling with energy as she grabbed fabrics and accessories along the way.
Returning to them with arms full, she smiled and dropped the items into Morwen's arms. "That should do," she declared, waving her hand dismissively. "Try them on in the back, behind the green curtain, dearie."
Doing as she was told, Morwen closed the green curtain behind her. In the cozy sanctum of the dressing area, she scrutinised the bundle of clothes with curiosity. Shedding out of her worn gown, she picked up the first piece, a crisp white linen shirt. As she slipped it on, the soft fabric lightly grazed her skin. It fit loosely around her shoulders, accentuating the soft swell of her chest. Next in her hands were a pair of brown trousers, their supple material teasing her fingertips. Sliding her foot through the pant leg, she tugged them up over her bottom half. The fit was tighter than a man's trousers would be, molding themselves snugly to her curves like a second skin. Morwen admired herself in the mirror, mesmerised by the transformation.
A new pair of boots were among the collection. Morwen couldn't help but marvel at the clean design. The boots were made of brown leather, darker than the trousers, coming up to just above her knees.
Slipping her feet into them, Morwen felt an immediate sense of comfort, as if the boots molded to the shape of her feet. They embraced her travel-weary soles, offering a gentle cushioning with every step. She wiggled her toes, relishing in the freedom and joy they provided. It was unusual for a new pair of shoes to fit so immaculately, as they would often pinch uncomfortably until broken in. But these boots seemed tailored for her.
To her surprise, the boots came with a belt designed to hold them up. The belt fastened around her waist like a regular belt, but with leather straps that went around her thighs, too. Morwen, mindful of her injury, carefully adjusted the thigh straps, ensuring a snug but comfortable fit. She then attached the leather to her boots, creating a harmonious union between her legs and footwear.
The last items that awaited her was a coat and vest, its design intricate and alluring. The vest tied up in three spots at the front, securing her bosom in place. As she flung her hair over her shoulder, she made a mental note to attend to its tangled state later, for now, it was time to present herself to the world.
Morwen emerged from the little fitting room, her newfound confidence palpable in her poise. Her shoulder squared back, and her head held high, she willed the strain of the past days not to show. As she glanced toward the mirror, searching for the reflection of her transformation, her heart skipped a beat.
"You look fantastic!" Zack noted, his eyes filled with admiration and surprise.
A soft smile touched Morwen's lips as she traced her reflection in the mirror. The image before her was no longer of a weary farmer stripped of vitality.
"Thank you, I love it," she said, her eyes shining with gratitude.
"We'll take everything, including the boots and coat," Zack said. He pulled his coin purse from his pocket and began counting out the coins.
"Thank you kindly, sir. That'll be one silver and twenty copper coins," the shopkeeper replied, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled.
Zack placed the coins in the shopkeeper's palm, her hand closing over them.
"Please, have this," the woman said, handing Zack a small vial of lavender oil.
"I can't accept this," he replied, holding his hands up in refusal.
"Oh, go on," the shopkeeper insisted. "It's a small gift to thank you for your patronage."
"You have my thanks," Zack said, bowing his head.
With a gracious smile, she bid them farewell. Resuming their journey through the village, they made their way to an inn.
It was a large, rundown building situated near the town square.
Zack pushed open the door, the familiar smells of ale and sweat washing over them.
The main floor was a tavern having rooms for lodging upstairs. A few people occupied the establishment, drinking beer as they engaged in conversation. Zack approached the bar, his footsteps echoing across the wooden floor.
"Hey there, friend, can I get you a drink?" a burly man called out from behind the bar. His voice was rough and thick, betraying years of smoking a pipe.
"Yes, two please, and a couple bowl of soup" Zack replied, a friendly smile lighting his face.
"That'll be ten coppers," the man said.
"We'll also need a room for the night," Zack added, handing the man the coins in exchange for a room key and two steaming bowls of soup. The aroma of the hearty broth danced in the air, filling Morwen's senses. Savouring each spoonful, The hearty meal warmed her belly. Morwen couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversations drifting through the air— picking up on a few tidbits of gossip. She overheard whispers about the baker's daughter, and the scandal the poor girl had gotten herself into by running away with a travelling bard.
None of the stories held particular interest for her, as her own journey already painted vivid scenes in her mind. The baker's daughter and the travelling bard faded into the background. Her ears were peeled for any mention of Idrae or any other recent attacks, but there was none.
"Have you heard about the new tax the King has imposed?" one man asked his companion.
"Aye, it's outrageous. My crops are barely keeping us fed as it is," the other man responded.
"My father tried to hide our grain supply from the tax collectors, but they found it. The bastards burned the entire thing. We had nothing left," the first man continued, his voice laced with bitterness.
"That's the way of the King, he doesn't care about us. All he cares about is lining his pockets," the other man replied, shaking his head in disgust.
Morwen shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the men's talk. Zack noticed her discomfort and motioned for them to move.
"Let's find our room," he suggested, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Morwen followed her brother up the narrow stairs, the old wooden steps creaking under their weight. The narrow hallway smelled of stale tobacco assaulting their senses. The room that welcomed them was small, barely enough space for two people to manoeuvre comfortably. Two cots were aligned on either side of the bare, the wood chipped walls, leaving a narrow path in between. The sight of a bed almost brought tears to her eyes. Morwen stripped out of her new clothes down to her linen shirt. The hem was long enough to be used as a nightdress. Crawling under the warm embrace of the blankets, she deeply exhaled. A sigh of contentment escaping her lips, It didn't last long.
"Not so fast there, Mor," Zack Interrupted, gently pulling back the warm covers. "We've got to change those bandages first."
He waved a few fresh strips of cloth in the air for emphasis.
A faint groan escaped Mor's lips. She was weary, physically and emotionally exhausted, craving only a few moments of rest. But she knew Zack was right; her wounds needed to be tended to if they were to heal properly.
"Fine," Reluctantly, she rolled onto her stomach, presenting her brother with the back of her leg.
"How does it look?" she inquired, craning her neck to see.
Most of her injuries had already started to heal, the angry red gashes and scrapes slowly fading away. Zack was meticulous in his care, his touch gentle.
"The salve is working nicely," Zack replied. He gently dabbed at the wound, cleaning it thoroughly before wrapping the fresh bandage around her leg.
"There, all done," he said, patting her affectionately on the head. With a sigh of satisfaction, He stood up, making to move to his own bed.
Morwen grabbed his wrist, stilling him in place. When his eyes met hers they lingered, the weight of their unspoken words filling the room.
The flickering candlelight danced across their faces, casting elongated shadows on the walls, she swallowed the lump in her throat.
"Why did we leave that man by the river?"
Her question hung in the air, the silence heavy with meaning.
Zack's brow furrowed, the lines of his face deepening. He was silent for a long moment, choosing his words carefully.
"He's a soldier, Mor," he finally replied, his voice low and grave.
Morwen's eyes widened, her heartbeat quickening.
"How do you know?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"His tattoo, it's a mark of the King's army," Zack explained, his eyes darkening with anger.
Morwen felt a chill run down her spine. Her mind racing, she tried to make sense of the information.
"I think the men that attacked our village were also soldiers. Maybe he was one of them?"
"It's possible," Zack mused. "But we can't be sure."
"I never noticed how grown-up you are," she murmured, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and remorse. "You've been taking care of me, keeping me alive. When it should be the other way around, I'm the big sister. That's my job."
A tender smile graced Zack's lips as he gave her hand a loving squeeze. "No, Mor," he whispered, his voice brimming with affection. "We take care of each other. That's how it's supposed to be."
In Zack's eyes, she found reassurance, "Thank you." she whispered.
He nodded, a small smile gracing his lips before retreating to his own cot.
Sometime later that night, Morwen lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Thoughts swirled in her mind. Slowly, she rolled over, facing her brother's bed. In the darkness, she could faintly make out his features. The lines of worry etched on his face, the way his lashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save mother," Morwen whispered softly into the night, her voice barely more than a breath.
The room was enveloped in a hushed stillness as the gentle sound of muffled footsteps echoed down the corridor. Morwen slowly closed her damp eyelashes, the pain of her journey giving way to the rhythm of her steady breaths.