Ginger dared to stick her head out of the fabric only when she heard Marena repeatedly insisted on it, assuring that it was safe. Ginger wondered how much time had passed since they had their encounter with a hunter. For her, it seemed like only a few minutes had passed by, but in reality, it was probably hours.
She made her way out of the hideout, then climbed over the piles of sacks, not knowing how to even look into Marena’s eyes after what had happened. As she settled on the very edge of the wagon bed, she fixed her eyes on the ground, examining every detail of her boots. It was her fault. She put another person in danger without even a warning. Now she felt like a burden, a cursed charm that brings endless peril for those who come near it.
Ginger knew the danger was real now and all the hopes for the hunter thing to be just a random incident failed. With that realization, her inner emptiness unleashed itself. She wasn’t that scared now and somehow all her senses went dull, unfolding something new in her - a sense of inevitability.
Marena came over without a word, sat on the opposite side of the wagon bed and placed a wrap of an old newspaper between them. Ginger looked sideways at what’s inside. Sliced bacon with a huge amount of lard in it, a half loaf of white bread and a handful of fresh, small tomatoes. Just a few days back, this wouldn’t have brought any appetite, but now her mouth watered at the very first sight of the lard glistening in the daylight. As her stomach growled loudly, she put her hands over it, turning her head away to hide hunger.
«Eat,» said Marena as she broke the bread into smaller pieces with her hands. Ginger noticed the tip of her ring finger bandaged with a piece of cloth, top phalanx missing. She raised her eyes to Marena in surprise.
«This isn’t new,» said Marena without looking at Ginger. «Eat» she repeated.
The food tasted unbelievably delicious, though Ginger had just a few slices of bacon and a piece of bread. She devoured it without taking the time to chew it properly. She swallowed hard, as the hunger remained after she’d taken a bite of bacon and bread. The amount of food she dared to take was barely enough to make her stomach stop growling. She hoped Marena would offer her to eat more, but it never happened. Ashamed to ask for more and seem like she was sponging on Marena, she just went back to staring at her shoes and then upgraded to exploring the surroundings. Marena parked the wagon in a small clearing on the side of the road, surrounded by pine forest from behind and revealing a spectacular view in the front.
A soft blanket of clouds descended from the sky, cloaking the distant peaks. All the way to the horizon, Ginger saw an endless web of hills going up and down in rhythmic motion, resembling a gentle wave. She had never observed the beauty of Daeghelm from this altitude before. This was the first time Ginger saw something so huge and serene, touched only by rare kisses of sunbeams and cradled by winds. She’d read a lot about the breathtaking views of Daeghelm wilderness but never imagined the real amaze this scenery holds.
By the time their silent halt was about to end, Ginger felt so awkward her head squeezed with tension. Keeping her glance furtive, she frequently looked at Marena. Marena smacked her lips, licked her fingers, and let a slow breath out. She lolled back and rested her elbows on the sacks, fixing her eyes on the view. She seemed so relaxed it shocked Ginger.
«Do you know who that was?» Ginger asked, breaking contemplation. Marena looked at her briefly and turned her head back to the view.
«I guess a hunter,» Marena said in a calm voice. She seemed absolutely unsurprised. On the contrary, she appeared relaxed, as if she didn’t face any life threats lately. Ginger wanted to ask a few more dozens or hundreds of questions, but Marena’s state confused her and she kept her mouth shut, reproaching herself for being so boneless.
As it started raining soon, they returned to their positions and continued the trip. The wagon kept going until the very darkness, when they reached another clearing which served as a campground. There were just a few stops like that along the way, where all travelers and merchants could make a halt for a night, water horses, and cook some food.
This place was a precise implementation of what Ginger had read in the books. An old fire pit with a pot hanger in the very center of the lawn, with a few massive logs of different lengths surrounding it. The ground around the fire pit was worn down and the place itself seemed tired of visitors despite its emptiness. Ginger noticed a wooden sign nearby with a faint paint on it claiming that it was 180 kilometers left to Bothelm. She estimated the journey would probably take the whole next day.
As they were alone on the campsite and barely met any other wagons on their way, she was worried about Pryderi. «How can she make it to Bothelm the day after tomorrow if I would be lucky to be there the next night?». The ending of the fair marked the start of a low season, when merchants prepare for the next quarter market. The first two weeks after the fair were usually the most calm and monotonous. According to Pryderi, it always looked like Araia went frozen for a while after a long season of hard work. She typically spent that time at home with Ginger, considering it’s a long weekend, like most oroans in Araia did.
Ginger tried to drive away all the thoughts about Pryderi from her mind as every time she felt an inexplicable anxiety and shame. She was simply running from it, switching her focus to something else, such as watching Marena unhitch the horse and recalling the names of the equipment in her head.
They had beetroot soup for dinner. Marena brought it all the way here from Araia and simply heated it up in the pot. She had all the equipment with her, even a handful of dry kindling for starting a fire. Though she didn’t have a spare bowl, so Ginger sipped her soup out of a mug. As long as she had a hot meal, she was fine with any type of dishware.
Ginger kept quiet with Marena, being frightened of her and ignoring the urge to ask questions. Marena was clearly very reserved, even more than Pryderi. It seemed like she wasn’t noticing Ginger at all. She was sitting in front of the fire with a hot bowl, mumbling some song in a half voice. Playful reflections danced in her golden eyes. Ginger felt like a fifth wheel in the perfectly completed match between Marena and nature. She thought she even breathed too loud. She wondered if Marena had any kids.
Ginger couldn’t fall asleep. Once comfortable nest between the pile of sacks now felt like the hardest bed. She was tossing and turning until she couldn’t and her eyes laid on the still-unpacked backpack. It was something Pryderi gave her, so the anticipation of discovering what’s inside was bitter as every part of what she might find there held a connection to her adoptive mother. Although Ginger didn’t expect to find anything unusual inside, it was still a tense moment for her.
That inner turmoil seemed like a stumbling block she couldn’t overcome. With her thoughts buzzing inside like a hive, she shook her legs nervously, unable to stop this weird feeling. All the anger, the pity, the pain and sleeping unease made her stretch her arms and legs and shake it hard again and again until the inner trembling shifted to her body. But it didn’t bring any relief, so she sat up and dragged the odious backpack closer. The moonlight breaking through the holes in the tent was barely enough to see things clearly.
On the very top, she found a paper wrap with something lightweight inside. Ginger set it aside for later and got her hands deeper. She took out a coil of rope, a thin but warm oroan blanket in a roll, a notebook she’d had for years with a pencil, a folding knife she had never seen before, a waterproof cape, and an empty metal flask Pryderi carried all the time. She also found steel and flint in the small pocket. Ginger exhaled, being grateful for both what Pryderi had packed for her and the fact that there was nothing so personal that could have triggered an emotional response.
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She took a paper wrap in her hands.
“That must be some food,” she thought.
And she was absolutely right. Inside there was a bunch of cured meat stripes, a handful of groundnuts and a bun, a very precise cinnamon bun, crumpled and deformed from a long road, but Ginger knew that smell all too well. She gasped in surprise, feeling her heartbeat fastened. Ginger sat frozen for a while, gazing at the bun, then covered her mouth with hand, restraining an emotional outburst. But she lost and let tears stream down her cheeks.
She didn’t let out a single sob. This cry was silent and sorrowful, enhanced by tiresome and uncertainty.. She thought, what if she never saw Pryderi again?
She took a bite of the bun. It was sweet, yet salty from tears. However, it was not that delicious that she had remembered because now it seemed an anchor point, something from the previous life, something associated with her weaknesses.
When she had eventually run out of tears, she packed everything back in the backpack and returned to her hideout. She covered herself with the same piece of cloth. The dusty smell, the hard wall of a wagon bed, all remained the same as if it was her new home. However, even the word “home” seemed a luxury at this point. Ginger unbuttoned her shearling coat just to find out that she smelled. Maybe «homeless» was her new word.
The beauty of the sunrise in the hills didn’t bring any joy to Ginger. The air was so chill and clean on the higher altitude. Even the sun came out, illuminating the landscape in pure warm colors. Perhaps she witnessed the most beautiful dawn ever, but instead of contemplating the moment, she sat on the wagon bed examining its wall.
They had some bacon and bread for breakfast, the same as yesterday. Ginger took just a few pieces as her hunger left last night. Marena wasn’t wordy as usual, and Ginger got used to it. She finally realized that Marena was no one to her. She didn’t have any obligations to save some human girl or to perform any mother duties. Ginger craved guidance and warmth, but realistically she didn’t expect this kind of thing from a stranger.
They got back to the road right after breakfast. Marena put on the sunglasses as the day promised to be sunny. Through the hole in the tent, Ginger partially saw the scenery. By noon, they reached a point where the wagon was driving down the hill at a very sharp angle. As the wagon went wonky, Ginger sat between the sacks, gripping them tightly to keep balance.
In about an hour, the road went up. The wagon moved slowly, creaking on every turn. The monotonous climbing up soothed Ginger into sleep and she had a nightmare. She saw Pryderi bound to a chair with a tightrope in some corridor. They looked at each other, but then Pryderi’s face went eloquent in a strange grimace. As the fear rushed over Ginger and her heart pounded, she turned back. Ginger put her arms around her stomach and shut her eyes tightly. The last thing she heard was strange sounds reminding screech or clatter. Ginger woke up crying. She popped her head out of the fabric abruptly. Everything was the same, but it was dark in the wagon. Ginger had probably slept for over 4-5 hours. She climbed to one of her observation holes and realized they were moving in the twilight. Marena probably didn’t make any stop during the day.
To Ginger’s surprise, in the late evening, Marena stopped the wagon again. She decided to take one more break for the night, which was odd, as the landscape around showed that Bothelm wasn’t that far. They could have easily arrived that day, but Ginger didn’t question Marena’s decisions. They were high in the mountains now, as the view below was covered by a thick blanket of clouds and the temperature outside dropped significantly. Ginger wandered around, observing the location. As they had reached the high point above clouds, she saw a clear sky full of bright blinking stars, but as she was so slow in processing emotions, the sight failed to evoke anything inside her.
Marena tossed a paper wrap to Ginger, which was likely her last food, as she had nothing left in her hands.
«I have some food, thanks,» said Ginger, handing the package back.
«You better eat some,» said Marena and got to her settling. Just like before, she slept outside using a sleeping bag she made herself. Since it was much colder, she also covered herself with an oroan blanket. She had also started a feeble fire that could hardly warm her enough.
«Go have some sleep, we leave in a few hours,» Marena said.
Ginger had no other choice but to obey silently. Holding a wrap in her hands, she turned away and crawled back to the wagon. Her current circumstances were constantly irritating her. Ginger despised her silent compliance and inability to respond, along with the fact that she appeared as a silly and weak puppet. Like she had no opinion and will of her own, blindly following the instructions of someone she doesn’t even know.
When the light of the coming sunrise broke through the clouds, they resumed their journey. Marena stated they would reach Bothelm in a few hours. Ginger ate a sandwich that Marena gave her last night, thinking of the way to survive in a big city like Bothelm. Besides the remaining dried meat that Pryderi packed for her, she had no other food. Last night she filled the flask with water from a tiny spring that came down the mountain. She checked the backpack once more, realizing that Pryderi might have hidden some money in it, and found a small pouch of coins in the side pocket she overlooked last night.
Ginger imagined the mighty towers of Bothelm veiled by clouds and fogs, filled with an opportunity to get lost. Up in the mountains, she wanted to find a place to lie low and wait out for Pryderi, so that they could move forward together.
As they got closer to the fortress, a few more wagons emerged on the road. They were now driving in a line with someone front and back. A multitude of sounds filled the air, overlapping one another. Ginger became overloaded quickly with a sudden increase of sensory information, and her anxiety flashed back and forth. She looked into the hole in the tent where the button was missing, hoping to catch as much as she could to be ready to hide or run.
But along with her worries bursting inside, she felt a flush of curiosity. It was her first journey somewhere, though the circumstances were unenviable. In a while, Ginger moved in the wagon, searching for the best spot to observe the fortress she had never seen before. Pryderi said that the pictures in history books reflected the true atmosphere and appearance of the city badly.
“It’s always better to see something once and feel it than staring at the pictures,” she claimed.
As Marena slowed down the wagon, and horses’ neighs thundered around like a wave, Ginger leaned on the tent trying to get the best view. She saw the towers, so huge and tall, it seemed they reached the sky. The walls built up hundreds of years ago exuded a breath of antiquity and… menace. In the pure light of the coming dawn, all the scars and brutality this fort had suffered from through the ages were evident. It was as if the fortress itself was telling a story far more real than the books were. The sight of it could easily take a breath away, but one couldn’t simply decide whether the initial impressions were astonishing or terrifying.
Through the narrow gap in the tent, Ginger saw just a part of it, but it was enough to understand what Pryderi meant by saying that you better see it in real life. The fortress was mostly embedded into the mountain, its angular towers reaching up high. Signs of fires and wars Bothelm went through were transparent and visible in the dark stains on the walls and missing pieces of facade.
The story this fortress held behind was enriched with assaults and invasions from humans, due to the proximity to the lands of men. Bothelm had been the first capital of Daeghelm, the first war post on Oro territory. The entire world got to know oroans thanks to that fort. They called it The Black Tower, after all the struggles this fortress had been through. However, not The Great War, not the fact that Bothelm was conquered and owned by humans for over 200 years, not the local conflicts defeated it. Its thick walls, constructed over 900 years ago, delivered the obvious message of oroan strength and resilience.
They were entering The Black Tower in a short line of carts and wagons moving along the cobblestone road right to the gates.