It would appear that the intensity of summer had been increasing with every second that passed. Faint clouds slowly drifted over the vast sky, so faint that no object could be interpreted from it by any means; a slim streak of soft white. The rays of the sun glimmering between the clouds with the occasional blow of blistering air.
Lyra wiped her forehead for who knows how many times as she found herself stopping in her tracks and taking a bit of a rest on the sidewalk of the dirt path. She opened her bag to see if she had anything to hydrate herself with, and to her doubts, the water inside her waterskin had run out.
A sigh could be heard being released as she looked up at that very sky, blocking out the sun's rays with her hand. She found herself eventually realizing that resting would only make the day go by and she still had to return home before the wolves came out. So, she got up and continued her journey to Nostreleid, the capital city.
Being the trusty messenger of the king, she was always proud of her job. Yet, on these sort of days are when she wished she had become anything else. Sure, she got paid enough to feed herself but to suffer under conditions like these was something else, especially when travelling by foot.
And she continued to walk, having exited the city of Harmynn only a few days ago and only a few miles left until she got to the closest town and hitched a ride on the cheapest wagon, if she could find one, to go all the way to Nostreleid. However, it still seemed very far for her. The same wheat fields around her seemed to be reappearing the more she walked. No cottages, houses or structures of any kind surrounding her. Who took care of the fields then? She wondered, only to stop thinking a few seconds later to realize she was sweating once more and thinking about anything would make it far worse.
Lyra reached the town soon after walking a few miles which felt like trekking a mountain. The town itself was small and humble. A few houses, a few patches of fieldlands, where farmers were working hard under the sun, and a bar in the far end of the town on a path that led to more dirt tracks of routes and wheat fields. Very few people were seen roaming about.
Her eyes reached straight for the bar that she noticed in the corner of her eye. It was soon that Lyra would find out that the activity inside the bar itself was far more lively than the town itself, although the main ruckus was coming from a large table in the middle of the bar where 6 men, possibly lumberjacks, were laughing, shouting and occasionally stopping to take a large gulp of beer, which managed to entice Lyra herself. She found a spot at a table-for-two with a man with wearing a red bandana on his arms and a short red scarf around his neck. After having a few rounds and having her stomach fulfilled with delicacies, the man with the bandanas started to talk.
"Around from here, are you?"
Lyra took a moment to react to the light voice from the man, who had scars on his face, which was contrary to her thinking that he would be gruff in his tone of voice.
In fact, Lyra found the man to be quite average in height and width, in contrast to the brawny men in the center of the crowded bar, which made the man with scars stand out. Even more so with his red bandana and scarf to the other people who were present on the spaces of the bar.
"Not quite, sir, I'm on my way to Nostreleid. I'm a messenger of Lord Yormungrel, you see, and I just returned from delivering a package to the king of Harmynn."
"Figured. You travelled a long way then, respect for that. Harmynn to Nostreleid can be a tough journey with only a few small towns like this one to act as resting spots. Say, I was travelling to Nostreleid to meet a long lost friend of mine, would you want to come with me? We'll be taking my cart." asked the man with a slight smile on his face.
Lyra understood that the thought of the raging sun hitting her skin again was far too much than she could have handled. So she heard herself agree to the man's offer.
"You said you were from Nostreleid right? Then you do know about the story about the bird that travelled from Harmynn to Nostreleid in search for a branch of a tree that bore the only grapes in the land?" asked the man in a matter-of-factly tone.
"I do, yes, it's a famous folktale at Nostreleid. The story apparently meant that the bird flew that far to feed it's dying master out of love but I think it's actually because the bird felt like it was indebted to the man, not to mention, the bird did have a promise to help the man when he needed it the most so when the man was ill and dying, the bird brought him rare and special grapes, which cured him immediately. The bird kept the promise."
"So you don't really think that the man was the bird's master at all?" asked the man with an eye-brow raised.
"Not really, no. I think it was an act of courtesy. Not to mention, the bird was incredibly skeptical of the man and it would not make sense for it trust him instantly at one random point." replied Lyra.
The man stared at her for a while, until he broke the silence with a deep sigh.
"Well then, it's getting late isn't it? I've got to return home and I think you do as well. So before the sun is cloaked, let's leave. I'll prepare the cart and the horses." said the man as he steadily got up.
"Oh, sorry, mister, I never got your name?" asked Lyra
"Call me Cicero." said the man as a faint smiled crossed his face.
Dusk did not seem to be a concept in this particular town. People were finally seen coming out of their houses, one by one like ducklings following their mother, and crowding around for what seemed to be the town square. The birds were lively too, and the warmth of the day had finally oozed into the atmosphere.
As Lyra watched two puppies cross her path, happily frolicking around, she wondered for a bit. This town seemed like the kind of place she, herself, would be content living in. The happy smiles of the people, laughing and talking, even the ones who just returned from their work in the hot day. It lacked a purpose but they were all so happy. It was as if they radiated energy, which was felt and then spread by all. Lyra could definitely understand that.
"Are you coming?" called out Cicero's voice.
Lyra looked back to see Cicero on his cart holding the lasso to the two snow-white horses.
"Right, right, yes." answered Lyra in haste.
The road to Nostreleid began and Lyra was enjoying it entirely. The overbearingly bland wheat fields were ever-present but this time, they shone. Their golden colours soothed Lyra as she could now feel a bit of wind trailing behind the cart.
Soon, the cart took a hard right down a path that continued between the wheat fields but a bit more rough. The rockiness did not bother much until a sharp sound was heard from the wheels of the cart, leading it to stop abruptly.
"Ah darn, I think the wheel's been cracked." exclaimed Cicero.
"Don't you have a spare?" asked Lyra desperately.
"Not really, no. This is a shortcut to Nostreleid but as to when it got so rough and torn apart, I don't know. Could you see if you can find a house or something? I don't think we'll be able to go anywhere right now."
"Where? It's late at night and we're in the middle of nowhere."
"Wait, do you see something there?"
Cicero pointed to a small shack out in the fields which was right beside a large forest that insinuated the colour grey.
"There, let's go there and ask."
Lyra and Cicero walked across the fields. At this time of the year, Lyra expected crickets but for some reason, they were not present, coincidentally, nothing was. Nothing could be heard nor seen. Except the faint glow coming from the shack and the grey forest that started to loom over them.
"Don't you wanna knock on the door?" asked Lyra when she noticed Cicero pass the shack and stop in front of a supposed entrance to the forest.
"Come here for a bit." said Cicero.
Lyra unwarily walked towards the spot beside Cicero, dead leaves crunching between her feet as she got closer and closer.
"What is it? What about the sha-"
As Lyra began, she got pulled by her clothes frontwards, almost dropping her to the ground. She staggered to walk until she saw felt the palm of Cicero hit her shoulder, his white glowing with stark white colors. The force was paralyzing. She saw Cicero going further and further and herself being more and more surrounded by trees. The push made her slam on the ground and then bounce from it to hit a tree with a heavy crash, before falling on the ground once more. Outside the forest, she could still see Cicero standing on the same spot unmoved, with his hand still glowing white. That was when she blacked out.