Wandering Foot

The Betrayer’s had kept to themselves mostly, trying desperately to collect enough supplies so they could be on their way. None felt safe. The children were under constant guard and the number of people patrolling their perimeter had doubled. All were unsettled. The only reason they hadn’t thrown in the towel and departed was food. The only reason the Betrayers came into the cities was for resources that were not available outside of them. That and the age-old agreements of work kept them stationary for now. Some of their usual employers had withdrawn their work but enough of their loyal employers remained that they felt obligated to remain.

They’d set up a rotating guard system, patrolling the border of their camp. On several occasions, they had discovered clear signs of someone nearby, testing the edges of camp, but when the guards attempted to investigate, the individual had already fled.

They had not returned to the market, leaving in groups to attend the farm work they’d been employed to do. They had been mostly left alone, although a very small number had come by to visit with old friends. They’d been met with a frosty reception and had not stayed long. Wandering Foot hated what relations had become his responsibility was first and foremost to his people safe and could see no way to repair the relationship without endangering his people.

It was a late evening. Wandering Foot was helping White Flower with folding of laundry. Here, surrounded by wife, children, and grandchildren, it was hard to imagine that things were so tense outside of their little bubble. The smell of smoke came in on the breeze, a warm comforting smell for those who lived by the campfire while White Flower discussed the food stores and the ongoing preparation when a guard sprinted into the clearing, headed directly for Wandering Foot. He rose quickly to meet the man as he stumbled to a stop, huffing with each breath.

“There has been an attack…” He wheezed. Wandering Foots blood turned cold.

The man backtracked quickly, waving his hands. “Not against us, but against Evans,” he paused to take in a deep breath before straightening. “He is being brought in by Dancing Leaves now. I don’t know what happened, but they’re injured and smell of smoke.”

Wandering Foot relaxed a little at the assurance his people were safe before turning to his wife. She had already departed, likely in search of food for their unexpected guests. Night Light and her husband had risen quickly to lend assistance and his other children had moved to make room for them around the fire.

Wandering Foot lent heavily on his staff, feeling every one of his years, as he awaited his brother in laws arrival. Through the smoke, Evan’s form grew clearer. Beside him walked his daughter, child in arms and supported by her husband. Damion stood on his father’s other side; hands fisted tightly into the fabric of his tunic. As they drew close, Wandering Foot made out the unmistakable smudges of soot and took note of the burns to skin and clothing. The reeked of the smoke, stronger than the light drift that the wind had blown their way.

Evans stood proud, but his fist clenched onto his staff betraying his pain and the slight stagger to his gait displayed his exhaustion. The burns to his legs, while not life threatening, would likely be causing him a great deal of pain if he was in his right mind and without question, Wandering Foot moved forward to pull his friends spare arm over his shoulder, leading him to the fire.

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Wandering Foot waved to the few curious faces that had appeared, lured by the noise and commotion. Several came forward to assist with Evan’s children, helping them sit and grow comfortable. Once White Flower returned with food, they helped serve food before quietly disappearing, leaving them to their shock. White Flower tutted and fussed over every burn she could find, sending others to find clothes to replace the most damaged.

When all were cared for and quiet had returned, Evans turned to Wandering Foot and said in a quiet, clipped tone:

“They burnt the farm.”

Wandering Foot startled upright. “They what!?” Evans just shook his head, ducking his head low and Lottie took a deep breath to take over, passing her daughter to her husband.

“The fire was started in the back hay barn. As soon as we saw the smoke, we rushed to put it out. But once we had left the home, they set fire to the house. It’s been so dry… it spread so fast, faster than we could ever hope to cope with.” Her voice shook as she continued, eyes glazing over. “It was all we could do to get the animals out of their pens before they were consumed too. We would have stayed to watch the burn, but a group was starting to form, and we had little desire to know what they were gathering for.”

Wandering Foot pulled the sobbing women into his arms, attempting as best he could to comfort, clapping a hand to her husbands should in consolidation.

“We had nowhere else to go,” Damion added, subdued. “They wouldn’t take us in at the inn and out neighbours have forsaken us”.

As Damion spoke, Wandering Foot was having a silent discussion with Dancing Leaves, who nodded and departed. He looked to White Flower, sharing a meaningful glance before she turned to speak with some of the others, hoping to gain their insight.

Wandering Foot returned himself to the family. “I expect all of that food in your stomachs by the time I get back,” he ordered gently. “You need food to heal. Lottie?” she turned to him, eyes dull. Wandering Foot shifted, a little uncomfortable. “Is the babe at the breast or will you need a substitute?”

Wandering Foot felt responsible for asking such questions, although he felt awkward. It was no business of his how a mother fed her child. But she was dependent on him for food. Lottie just smiled, seeing the thought behind the unusual prying.

“She is quite content with what I can provide.”

Wandering Foot nodded, passing a small drawstring pouch into her hands. “Then I have been told you are to add this to your food. My wife tells me it is an excellent aid to help maintain the milk during times of stress.” She smiled.

Wandering Foot fled, seeking out his wife who was surrounded by a group discussing in low voices 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. Ass to that an infant and an elder and his people were rightfully concerned. However, what they did not know was that provisions had been put in place generations ago if, in the event of something just like this happened.

In hushed tones, Wandering Foot explained this, detailing the location set aside for hiding their brothers and sisters in times of need. They would only have to support them until the group relocated to Lands Meet. It was late in the season, but crops grew better at Lands Meet. The family would be fine.

This seemed to settle his people. By nature, Betrayers were not callous and all in his group had at some point worked for Evans. He was held in high regard amongst his people and if no harm would come to themselves; they were happy to help.

This decided, Wandering Foot gave the orders to begin disassembly of their camp in preparation for departure. When Wandering Foot arrived, spirits seemed to have lifted some. Quiet chatter had started, and young Izzy was at Lottie’s breast.

Wandering Foot settled and explained the situation, offering them the deal he had explained to his people. There were tears of relief and when all emotions had concluded, White Flower led them to a caravan so that they would catch some sleep.

At daybreak, the caravans trundled away, the family still sleeping peacefully. Wandering Foot looked back to the city. He could still see the curls of smoke coming from where Evans’s farm had been.

They would not be returning for some time.