Chapter Eighteen

A weight felt lifted from Leuther, Sula, and her canine companion. Not like the weight of fog being lifted from their mind or wool being lifted from their eyes, but more like the weight of a boulder being lifted from their foot just seconds before the landslide came crashing over the same spot. Any longer in those woods might have left any one of them crushed beyond repair.

But that was behind the company. After having struggled through the depths of the forest the past couple of days, the road before them offered life. Or at least life that was more human than the snarling monsters that lurked in the darkness of the forest. Though Leuther and Sula both knew humans could be more dangerous than monsters given the chance.

Ahead of them, promising all the relaxing freedom and swiftness of travel for which they could hope, were their saviors. Tethered by two slim ropes to a dainty looking cart were Leuther’s majestic steeds. The left most horse had a murky brown coat that reminded Sula of the stream water after the rodents had churned up its mud, while the right most horse had sleek, black hair that might have been perfect if not for the hint of gray that showed beneath. Leuther introduced them as Hyopedon and Graster, respectively.

As they drew closer Sula could not help but wonder if these horses looked a little dumpy. Neither stood taller than she did and each seemed to nurse a barrel of a belly between strong stumps of legs. Perhaps she was imagining it, but the closer she got, she could not help but notice the twisted teeth that stuck out of the Graster’s mouth even with it closed or the way that Hyopedon’s eyes crossed as he shook his head confusedly. Though steeds they may not have been, as long as they could move the cart, they would do.

As for Leuther, his attention had been pulled entirely from his old horse friends to the state of his wagon. The horror of the sight loosed a scream from him.

“Some crook has looted my cart!” Leuther moaned to the heavens. He rushed to it and hurriedly looked over what was left. The outside was completely bare. The canvas cover that had sprawled over its frame had been stripped in such a way that remnant patches of cloth stuck to the wood. It was like a dog had torn meat from its bones but grew full before finishing. Inside the wagon lay the shattered fragments of at least twenty little pots that had once contained Leuther’s personal effects. “How am I ever going to pay back my supplier?”

But Sula, climbing into the caravan noticed that behind the remains of the other pots were ten large kraters of wine still filled to the brim. She announced as much to Leuther who wiped away his worries from his brow. At least, he thought, he would still be able to earn enough to pay for his boss’ wares. But climbing in himself, Leuther realized those pots contained his own, personal wares and not the supplier’s wine. If anything, he would be operating at a heavy loss. The thought almost brought tears to his eyes.

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“It’s a little odd,” Sula concluded, pointing out towards the front of the caravan. “Why wouldn’t they take the horses?”

Leuther waved away her comment. “Those two are feisty beasts. Real troublemakers in fact. They are lucky I bother to keep them around. That is, I am desperate enough to keep them around. They probably scared the thieves away.”

Sula looked over them again as they began biting the fleas off of one another. But soon they each took the nibbles personal and chomped harder and harder one after another. Somehow she doubted they were capable of scaring anything away, let alone thieves on the Divine Road. “And the wine? Why leave that?”

“No idea. I guess they had no eye for such a refined taste.”

Before Leuther could finish, Sula had already removed one of the clay lids and sunk her hand inside into the dark purple liquid. The wine felt hot to the touch and almost energized as if there were a current running through it. Cupping her hand she drew a drink of it to her lips and swallowed hard. It had been a long while since she had had anything other than water to drink and it seemed like it had been a lifetime since even that was clean. A bit of wine, she concluded, would go down quite nice.

“What is this!” Sula had spit the wine out the instant it touched her tongue. She leapt from the cart and began shoveling dirt into her mouth to wipe out the flavor. Scrub as she might with the minerally grit, the taste would not go away. Her eyes grew red with disgust and she retched. “It tastes worse than prickled-hogwash!”

“Hmph, perhaps like the thief, you too lack the refined palate necessary to enjoy my wine,” Leuther said with a scoff.

The company was long down the road when the taste finally faded from Sula’s mouth. Leuther at the helm had not ceased his chatter the whole way, but Sula had come to expect that much by now. Besides he spoke more to his horses than he did to her which was a nice change. The wolf sat with her in the back of the caravan as far away from that ghastly wine as possible. She watched it shake and rattle during the bumpy trip and thought if it so much as spilled she might jump from the cart and try her chances in the wood again.

But the wine did not spill and they made great distance on the road without conflict. Once or twice they passed a guard on horseback, but each time the guard simply rode on, ignoring the pitiful little cart pulled by pitiful little horses driven by a pitiful little man with his pitiful little sister and her pitiful big dog in the back, all dirt-smeared and covered in grass stains. In those situations, Sula did not even bother to raise her hood. The mud obscured her face to such an extent that not even her uncle would have recognized her under its grime. Neither he nor her father were ever too far from Sula’s thoughts.