“Every damn…” Werond mumbled angrily, sitting up from her pile of silks. Too much to drink at dinner, again.

It had been the beer, some from Bo’s old stash. The caravan still had plenty, and she could handle a tankard or two. Gods knew she needed it.

A black fog had seemed to settle on the caravan since they’d left Daggerford. The days had been sunny, yes, and the landscape still beautiful, with the typical Swordcoast sea of endless grassland. But not a soul on the caravan seemed to be enjoying it.

As Werond crawled out of her silks and to the back of the parked wagon, she realized that Serena was absent from her own bed, if it could be called that. She paused at the end of the frame, wondering if she should be worried.

Lord Zultan wasn’t the first death on the caravan. That ‘honor’ had been taken by Bo. Yet, somehow, his absence seemed to way heavy on the minds of everyone involved. Despite three days having passed since the caravan had moved out, Serena refused to be her normal self. She had barely signed a word since the caravan’s departure, instead withdrawing into herself, a look of worry always etched across her face. Jo was the same, doing her rounds about the caravan with a silence that Werond couldn’t figure out. Pavel, in the moments she’d seen him, seemed frustrated more than he usually was, focusing most of his energy on new measures to safeguard the caravan. Werond had yet to see Cruck’aa after that night, so rarely did he leave his wagon. She had half a mind to make sure he was still eating, yet she could never seem to muster the energy to ask. He’d just bite her head off anyways.

Even the other teamsters and caravan members seemed quieter than usual. Barely a word was spoken at daybreak when the caravan launched, and dinner, once filling the fields and forests with loud conversation and boisterous laughter, remained a quiet affair. Lord Zultan was not liked among any of them, yet something about his passing left a mark on each and every person in the caravan. A quiet reminder of their own morality, and the dangers of their work.

Though she recognized it, Werond couldn’t feel the same.

She sighed and hopped off the wagon, glad that the moon was out and bright. She waved drowsily at the horses behind them, before ambling towards the trees off to the side of the road.

There had been a numbness that settled onto her, that night after the bonfire. A kind of numb that she could hide behind. Despite what the others had said, Werond knew that she was at fault for Lord Zultan’s death; if not entirely, then partially. But she did not sink into the same depression that plagued everyone else, if only because she was used to it by now.

Werond grimaced; bad thoughts to have. She knew as much, yet it was a challenge to silence them.

Finishing her business, she ambled back towards the wagon, wished the horses behind her a mumbled “Good night.”, and climbed back in, body yearning for the warmth of the silks. Serena wasn’t back yet. Perhaps she was taking a walk in the moonlight.

Her head hit the bundle of silks, eyes already closing; she began to wrap the silks about her body, to trap in more heat, when she stopped.

From the front of the wagon, muffled slightly by the canvas covering, came the sound of someone crying.

Werond sat up, letting the silks fall from her body; at first, she swore her ears were deceiving her. But as she listened, though it was quiet, she recognized the tell-tale sign of someone – a woman – struggling to hold back tears.

She frowned; Werond wasn’t sure of anyone on the caravan who would come to her wagon to cry, of all things. It wasn’t Serena, she couldn’t make a sound. But the only other person she could think of was Jo, and Jo didn’t seem like the crying type.

“Gods,” Werond mumbled as she flipped off the silks and crawled towards the front. “of course this happens now.”

She stuck her head out the flaps, balancing her hands on the backrest of the bench.

In her normal spot, Serena started violently, before flipping her head away from Werond.

“Serena?!” Werond asked; she lowered her voice, eyes flicking to the rest of the sleeping caravan. “Was that you? What’re you doing?”

Without looking at her, Serena signed, “Was what me?”

Her voice quavered inside Werond’s mind, sending an ache into her chest.

“I…thought I heard something. Guess it wasn’t you though.”

“Nope.” Came a choked reply. Werond frowned and edged closer to Serena.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You sound like you’ve been crying.”

Serena didn’t respond, her hands still in her lap.

Werond reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Is there something I can do?”

Serena’s hands clenched into fists as Werond pulled her hand back. She turned away from the woods and stared down at her lap; Serena’s glassy eyes were red and irritated, as though she’d spent all night rubbing them. Werond realized that her dress tunic, sleeves normally just under her elbow, were unrolled, and stained with tear spots.

“No, I…” Serena’s hands fumbled about. “I-I just, don’t know…”

“Don’t know what?”

“How t-to talk about it, I…” Serena’s shoulders slumped.

“About Zultan?”

“Vanet.”

Werond nodded. “Right, sorry. Well…best way is to just talk.”

“But I…” Serena wrung her hands. “I d-don’t – not tonight, I can’t tonight.”

“Then when? You’ve been bottling it up these past days, it’s not good for you. You can talk to me, you know –”

Serena’s hands exploded into a frenzy, causing Werond to recoil.

“Talk about what?! That I could have saved him?! We know that Werond! We could have stayed b-but I don’t know if it would have h-helped, but we didn’t know it was going to happen we should have been more observant if I had known he was related I just!” Serena rubbed her face harshly, a shaky and exasperated sigh filling Werond’s head. “Gods if I had just been there it’s my fault!”

“Serena!” Werond whispered harshly, moving closer. “Don’t say that, it wasn’t! It wasn’t even close to –”

Serena whirled around in the bench, and fully faced Werond.

“But it’s true!” As she signed, tears began to streak down her face. “If I had j-just been there, Vanet w-wouldn’t have –”

“Stop, Serena, please! That wasn’t your fault!”

“Then whose was it?!” Werond flinched at the shrillness of her voice. “If it wasn’t mine, then whose?!”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault Serena, none of us knew that would happen. If anything, blame Vanet’s wife!”

“But we s-should’ve known!”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Serena,” Werond said, straightening up. “why are you so focused on blaming yourself? Out of everyone, including her, why are you the one at fault?!”

“Because I could have helped!” Her fingers flew, Serena’s voice coming out strained in Werond’s head. “I-I could’ve healed him or talked her down or just helped –”

“But so could Pavel! Or Jo, or Cruck’aa, or the guards – it wasn’t just you! Why can’t you see that?”

“Because it’s always me!” Serena screamed; Werond clutched at her head as a dull pain smashed against it. “It’s always me! I killed Vanet when he saw me! I fucked it up Werond! J-just like w-with everything else, with N-Ned and Bron and Mom and Dad I’m always the one who messes things –” Serena begun to shake, the tears continuing to pour down her cheeks. “E-everything that h-happens, I’m a-always the one who’s at f-fault. E-every time.” Her voice trailed off as Serena buried her face into her hands.

Werond stared at her, unsure of what to say, what she could say; Serena had been bottling up something these past days, but Werond had assumed it was only about Vanet. But it seemed to dig deeper than that.

“Uhm,” Werond began. “I can’t speak for that, but I know you Serena…whatever happened, none of that was your fault! I…I imagine it would have happened anyway, right?”

Serena dropped her hands, and stared at Werond, eyes ablaze.

“S-so I’m just suppose to a-accept that everything, everything!” she gestured wildly, “was just g-going to happen?! T-that no matter what I could have done, it all still would have gone to shit?!”

“Yes.” Werond replied instantly. “Serena, that’s just life. You can do everything right and still fail. From what you’ve told me, I don’t think there was anything you could have done before, and certainly not now. And…I think the sooner you realize that the better you’ll feel.”

Werond’s heart slammed into her chest as Serena held her gaze, hands unmoving.

Serena turned away, her lips parted as if she had something to say.

Instead, she pulled her legs against her chest, as her shoulders slumped, and broke down, burying her face against her knees as she let her sobbing consume her.

Werond felt her heart stop.

“Oh, gods, I didn’t,” Werond said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that, Serena I’m sorry, I –” Werond cursed herself silently, before grabbing Serena’s arms. “Please, please come back in, please, I’m sorry Serena, I don’t want you to catch a cold or…please, I’m so sorry.”

Werond began to pull uselessly on Serena, as though she could have hoisted her over the backrest. Serena remained curled up, refusing to move.

“Serena,” Werond whispered. “please, I’m sorry, please come back into the wagon, please.”

Slowly, as though her limbs were made of stone, Serena began to uncurl herself and turn towards the back of the wagon. She was still crying as she did, but now uncurled, Werond grabbed her arms, and awkwardly pulled her over the backrest; her deadweight slipped from Werond’s hands, and Serena fell halfway onto the backrest, her legs still on the other side, though from her continued crying, she didn’t seem to notice.

Werond cursed every god that she knew as she pulled the rest of Serena into the wagon, gently lowering her onto the floor. Immediately, she curled her body, hiding her face in her hands.

Frustrated at herself, Werond turned away and crawled towards the silks. She grabbed her own pile, and shoved them together with Serena’s, creating a large heap of the sheets shoved against the wall of the wagon. She quickly flattened a space in the middle, before grabbing two of the largest, intact sheets, and laying them to the side.

Werond turned back towards Serena, still crumpled into a ball. She crawled back over to her and offered a quick pray to Deneir.

More gently this time, she stuck her hands under Serena’s arms, and pulled her into a sitting position. Serena feebly tried to push Werond away, as she twisted Serena around until she faced her fully. “I know, sorry, just, trust me.” She said. Werond wrapped her arms around Serena, pulling her into a hug, before scooting back, and falling onto the pile of silks, so that Serena lay on top of her.

“W-Werond…” Serena could barely sign her name, as she tried to push off her. Werond tightened her hold around Serena, and easily pulled her back down.

“I know, yell at me in the morning,” Werond said; she released Serena and pushed her slightly to the side, so that she fell into the crook of Werond’s arm.

Serena lay there, her tears momentarily halted as she looked at Werond, confusion in her glassy eyes. With a sigh, Werond grabbed the two sheets of silk off to the side, and pulled them over Serena and herself, forming a warm pocket in the silks.

“Gods, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know if…” She sucked in a deep breath and turned her head to meet Serena’s gaze. “There isn’t anything I can say right now that can change how you feel,” Werond whispered. “so, I won’t say anything else. But when I was in your place…I wished I had someone to hold onto. If…you want to just…get it out, I can hold onto you…if you want, I should have asked but –”

As Werond spoke, Serena had squeezed her eyes shut, and as Werond mumbled through her apology, a single, shuddering sob tore through Serena. She clutched at Werond, causing her heart to jump, and pulled herself in, burying her head just under Werond’s chin. Though she couldn’t hear her, Serena’s body began to jerk as more sobs, harder than before, racked through her. Werond leaned her head back against the silks, and slowly began to rub Serena’s back.

Beads of sweat began to form on her head, from the heat of the silks, from Serena pressed against her, and from her own stupidity. Werond hadn’t a clue what to do, or to say, when Serena exploded like that. Part of her was glad that Serena seemed too far gone to protest the manhandling, though the other part was ashamed that that had even happened.

Werond shifted against the silks, until her head was propped up; she could barely see Serena’s trembling hand, but it was enough for Serena’s voice to come through.

Her cry was one of guilt, a rough anger at herself for what Serena believed she could have done more. It was one that was overwhelmed by the horror of what had happened, and a desperate desire to have done something when she could’ve. Instead, all Serena could do now was clutch at Werond and sob until there was nothing left but an ache in her throat and a hole in her chest.

Werond knew the feeling all too well.

Holding back her own tears, Werond brushed Serena’s hair away from her face, wishing she could do more. The racking of Serena’s body against hers, the slamming of her heart against her side, and the wetness of her chest as Serena gulped for air, caused Werond’s body to ache.

There wasn’t anything she could say that would calm Serena down; she was well past that point. The only thing Werond could do was hold her tight and let Serena weather out that maelstrom of emotions that raged inside of her. At the very least, Werond knew that would help. After all, that’s what she had wanted, so many years ago.

Werond ran her fingers through Serena’s hair, leaned her head back, and waited for the storm to end.

Gradually, Serena’s shaking began to die down; her grip loosened against Werond’s tunic, as the sobbing quieted to a dull moan, Serena finally running out of tears to cry. Werond let out a small sigh, her fingers moving up to scratch the top of Serena’s messy hair.

“Better?” Werond whispered; the tightness in her chest loosened with the tiny nod from Serena. “I’m glad. It’s better to…get it all out anyways.”

Serena remained still against her; as Werond began to sit up, she clung childishly to her, her dead weight keeping Werond from moving.

“Okay,” she said, pulling the sheet’s tighter.

Serena held her grip tight as Werond shifted slightly, settling back into a comfortable position.

“I won’t go anywhere, I promise. Goodnight Serena.”

In response, Serena shifted closer against her. After a moment, Werond felt Serena’s breathing begin to slow, until it settled into a rhythmic pattern.

Closing her eyes, Werond let loose a relieved sigh. The ache in her chest had finally receded, replaced now by a deep lethargy.

She ran her fingers through Serena’s hair, one last time, before drifting into blessed sleep.

…

Serena groggily pushed herself up from the silks, her tunic and skirt sticking to her from the heat of the thin blankets. She was alone in the pile, the spot next to her still flattened.

The wagon shook, already moving, and the sounds of a caravan in motion filled her ears. The sun shone through the top of the wagon covering, and she realized that she had slept through breakfast…and maybe lunch, by now.

The night before flooded back to her, the events still vivid in her mind. Yet, as they did, the usual sense of embarrassment that came with anything that Werond did refused come. Rather, a warm sense of relief blossomed from her chest, sending a gentle heat through her. Though her face ached, head foggy, and her body still exhausted, Serena felt as though the black cloud from before had been lifted. At least, a little bit.

She rubbed her face and waited for the sleepiness to subside; as it did, she gripped the frame of the wagon and pulled herself up, wobbling over to the back of the driver’s bench.

The heat of the sun, and Werond’s smiling face, greeted her as Serena flipped back the canvas flaps.

“Hey,” Werond said, before Serena could get her hands up to sign. “the caravan had to move, and Pavel was yelling. Thought I’d let you sleep.” She pointed to Serena’s spot on the bench, to the plate of dark bread and cheese, and a small jug of water. “Grabbed that during breakfast, it was pretty good, all things considered.”

“O-oh.” Serena signed, her voice horse. “Thanks. Uhm…do you mind if I eat in the wagon?’

Werond shook her head. “Nope, not at all, take all the time you need. If anyone comes by, I’ll tell them you’re asleep still.” She cocked her head. “Oh, make sure you don’t get crumbs in the bed.”

Serena smiled, her face aching; Werond handed off the plate and jug to her as Serena retreated into the wagon. She placed the food and drink down, checking to make sure the jug wouldn’t tip over, before turning and popping her head back out.

“Uhm…” She fumbled with her signs as Werond turned towards her, brows raised. “I just…wanted to say, for last night, I’m sorry –”

Werond raised a hand.

“Don’t need to say anything. Sorry it was so awkward…but I’m glad I could help.” Werond, giving her a smile that warmed Serena more than the sun ever could.

Serena’s hands twitched, her mind unable to find the right words.

She ducked her head, then looked back up, before sliding closer to Werond; quickly, ungracefully, Serena planted a kiss on Werond’s warm cheek before fleeing back into the wagon