When Kitford’s men chose war, I chose it with them. When Coran rushed towards the raider’s lair, I chose to rush ahead of him. Not a single kitford man was wounded at the mouth of the cave because the marauder lookouts fled. From me. When Captain Dashiel of the Imperium’s Third Legion offered Kitford’s citizens safe passage to Moonbright Pass, I chose to join the travelers’ adventure instead. And, thirty minutes past, when Aduren announced to our elderly hosts that he would see their flock returned by nightfall tomorrow, I joined Malthen and Hex in choosing to follow him.
I fear Aduren. It is because of men like him that humans choose to pursue war instead of science. It is because of men like him that hate burns bright along tribal, cultural, and racial lines. It is also because of him, however, that I know what it feels like to overcome fear. His cruel words and intimidating presence forced me down the path of discomfort and courage. I stumble down this path of my own volition now, and my life will never be the same.
Heavy, willful footsteps carry a young man up the hill on which I sit - cross legged and relaxed. He grunts. Clears his throat. Spits into the night. I have nothing to say to him. The western breeze ceases to soothe my scalp as he moves to stand over me. How is it that he has shed the scent of alcohol so quickly? He undoes his trousers. I spin.
It is Hex. He wears Aduren’s expression of idle concentration, and stamps his feet heavily. He continues the offensive caricature - tossing his pack carelessly at the ground and dropping his trousers to urinate on a deep opal night blossom.
“Shud ei do et?” I do not know what to say. He waggles his hips comically, with his back still turned. “Te reely get inte charcter ye know?” I am chortling now, and he drops the act.
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“Apologeis for th’ interruptin’ of ye. Thought ye could euse soem chier.” His energy softens, and he assumes my posture. He allows his breathing to fall into step with mine, and we rest together - projecting our combined awareness into the eastern horizon.
“I am glad you are here.” I speak as evenly and confidently as I can. My vocal chords struggle against a lifetime of demure conditioning. The result is soft and middling.
“And I you,” he returns in an even softer tone. The knowledge that he is neither facing nor looking at me makes his merry presence even more comforting. My body relaxes further. I fight the urge to explain my statement. We rest in silence.
* - -
I breathe deeply and focus on the scent of a ferrous spice carried on the wind. A millipede scales my unshod right foot, and begins a trek upon my crossed legs to my relaxed, upright torso. A sensation of distinctly tangerine coloration announces the animal’s arrival at my navel. It pauses. I breathe deeply. Another millipede boards my right foot. It nestles in the crook of my knee. It is impossible not to smile.
Herman and Maude snore in the loft of their small home. Malthen and his unsavory mentor sharpen a blade in a vacant barn. What remains of Herman’s flock shuffle peacefully beneath a roof of rippling courser’s silk. Hex lies upon a patch of charred earth, admiring the stars.
“Are you afraid?” I ask him.
“Deliciously”. We have passed a half hour in silence. It does not feel strange to let another minute roll by.
“Will you go with Aduren in the morn?”
“Most likely. Will you?”
“Yes. ”