Wandering Foot

He’d ordered his people to remain vigilant. They couldn’t risk another attack on the children and always they were watched by a group of five adults, ready to intervene if anyone tried to attack his people in their most vulnerable of places.

Wandering Foot had made his farewells to those he trusted, leaving his people to White Flower. He knew she could keep them calm as they dismantled their camp. He’d held a meeting the day before, putting to vote what was to be done now.

It had been unanimous. The people had decided it was in their own best interest to leave earlier than usual. The children were not safe here and how long would it be before they started attacking the adults. Already they had endured snide comments and refusal of sale just because of who their forefathers had been, and they were not now willing to tolerate the behaviour.

The food they had managed to purchase had been preserved and stored and they were now packing down their homes, leaving only what they needed for the night. They departed at daybreak.

Wandering Foot upon his return threw himself into these preparations, answering questions and offering guidance wherever he could. It was a well-practised dance, this business of packing down and moving on but snags were a normal part of moving such a large group of people. There was a heavy smoke in the air that made breathing harder which he’d found strange. Normally burning off didn’t happen until after the harvest but perhaps some farmer had noticed disease in his crop and was attempting to kill it off before it spread further. Such things could prove disastrous for both the farmer’s livelihood and his nearby neighbours’ crops.

His people had chosen to settle down in the open, it was easier to remain protected in a group rather than dotted about in family groups. Wandering Foot had also set up a roster for keeping watch, something he’d never felt the need to do in the past. But things were different now and safety of his people must always come first.

Wandering Foot had received word from Edward, updating him on the circumstances around their retreat and asking for him to meet Willow and the boy some days travel away about a delicate question. Edward had been unwilling to elaborate and given the great debt he owed Willow, Wandering Foot had accepted. He’d shared this with his people, most were still discontented by the entire situation surrounding Willow. But they agreed that while she may not trust them, she had been declared a friend of the group for many years and at the very least deserved to be head out.

Things were just running down for the night when one of his watchmen approached, standing at a distance, and beckoning him closer. Confused, Wandering Foot had approached, his own confusion matched by the mans, his fidgeting fingers giving away the concern he felt.

“We have a visitor,” he whispered, keeping as quiet as possible to not concern any who may have been close enough to overhear. “It’s your brother Evans. He refused to leave when I warned him of our orders. I left him with Fire Leaves outside, near the road.”

Wandering Foot’s face hardened as he nodded. Evans and his family alone had remained supportive, and they had suffered for it. With attitudes so poor, no one wanted to hear of the good the Betrayer’s did.

Fire Leaves hailed him as he approached and through the smoke Evan’s form became clearer, although still distorted by the smoke in the air. Beside him, stood both his daughter, child in arms and supported by her husband, and Evan’s son. As he drew near, Wandering Foot made out the unmistakable smudges of soot and took note of the minor burns to both skin and clothing. They both reeked of smoke stronger than the air around them.

Evans stood proud, but his fists were clenched around his staff. betraying the sorrow, anger, and pain he felt. The burns to his legs most definitely caused him great pain and without question Wandering Foot sent Fire Leaves off, ordering he find White Flower to find the healing salves. Carefully, Wandering Foot pulled his old friend’s free arm over his shoulder and led the small family to the camp. Some had been awoken by Fire Leaves and quickly came to lead Evan’s children forward toward the embanked fire for food and treatment. White Flower saw to Evan’s herself, tutting over his legs before declaring them not serious but worth resting.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

When they were cared for, Evans turned to Wandering Foot and explained.

“They burnt the farm.”

Wandering Foot startled to his feet. “They what!?” Evans just shook his head and his daughter, Lottie, took over, passing her daughter into her husband's hands.

“The fire was started by some of our neighbours in the back hay barn. As soon as we saw the smoke, we rushed to put it out, but it was so dry that it spread faster than we could cope.” Her voice shook as she continued, “All we could do was let the animals out of the pens so they may escape. We’ve spent the last few hours watching our home burn to ash.”

Wandering Foot resettled on the ground, pulling the women, tears cascading down her cheeks, into his arms, clapping a hand to her husband's shoulder in consolidation. He caught the eye of Fire Leaves and with a conceptual nod, he grabbed a few more hands and disappeared into the forest.

“We had nowhere else to go,” Evans' son, Damion added, far more subdued than Wandering Foot was used to. He was normally such a happy, big personality. “They wouldn’t take us in at the inn and our neighbours have forsaken us.”

Wandering Foot shared a meaningful glance with White Flower who turned away, considering the nonverbal proposition he was offering. With a slight nod, she turned to speak with some of the other members, hoping to gain their insight.

Wandering Foot turned back to Evans, hanging around bowls of the barley stew White Flower had delivered. “I expect all of this in your stomach by the time I come back. Your bodies need food to heal, and your minds need familiarity to process what has happened. Lottie?” She turned to him, eyes glassy. “Is the babe still on the breast or on a substitute?”

Wandering Foot found the question uncomfortable; it was no business of his to know a woman's preference, but she smiled, seeing the thought behind the unusual prying. “There will be no need for substitutes. She is quite content with what I can provide.”

Wandering Foot nodded, passing over a small drawstring bag into her hands. “Then I have been told you are to add this to your food. My wife tells me it is an excellent help in maintaining the milk for the babe in times of stress.” She smiled thankfully.

Wandering Food fled, seeking out his wife who was surrounded by a group discussing in muted tones what was to be done. It was not yet an argument, many were concerned about the food stores and adding five mouths was not an easy feat. Add to that the infant and the elder man and his people were rightfully concerned. However, what they did not know was that provisions had been put in place if, in the event of something just like this happened. He and the other Elders had set aside a space for hiding their brothers and sisters in the cities and this was where he intended to take Evans and his family.

In hushed tones, Wandering Foot explained this. They would only be supporting them for a short time until they made it to Lands Meet. It was late in the season, but it was known that crops grew faster at the communal meeting place although no one really knew why. They could then support themselves with minimal help and the Betrayers would be able to barter for fresher grown produce from them whenever they went there.

This seemed to settle the majority of dissenters. He people by nature were not callous people and all in this group had at some point worked for Evans. He was held in high regard amongst his people and if no harm would come to them, they were happy to help him.

This decided, Wandering Foot went to deliver the news. As instructed, each had finished their food when he returned and young Izzy was happily at Lottie's breast. She’d hurried to cover up as he approached.

Wandering Foot raised both hands in a placating manner. “You have no need to hide such a natural thing amongst us, Niece Lottie. We care not for such things.” She’d smiled, leaving the sheet where it was but clearly more comfortable with the warning.

Wandering Foot settled and explained the situation and offered them what he had told his people would. There had been tears and relief and when all emotion had concluded, White Flower led them somewhere so that they may catch some sleep.

At daybreak, all were roused, and the caravans trundled away. Wandering Foot looked back to the city for a final time.

They would not be back for some time.