The wagon that Pyra was riding in was the first in line. It only made sense with how this was the adventurer’s wagon, or at least the one they were using for the time being. She watched out the back as it rocked back and forth. The skies were still burning, smoke choked the air but ash had stopped raining down as heavily as it had been before. She wasn’t sure how they’d packed so much stuff in the wagon without all of it just tumbling down. Calisto seemed to be rather serious in the way that he placed things in there, if his arguments with Lorne any time the caravan stopped was any indication.

Occasionally she’d steal glances at Lillian’s sleeping form. There wasn’t much to do right now, even as she had looked and poked and prodded. Though they were kindred in flame she was struggling to tell what exactly was wrong with her. Pyra hesitated to even ask the two men, and they weren’t exactly keen on telling her. Lorne had snapped at her the first time he saw her pulling the blanket back to check on her, it wasn’t loud, despite the man’s voice being deeper than some dwarven mines it still held all the warning as a snapped twig in the woods. And so she didn’t dare to try again. At least, not with them watching. Occasionally Lillian would mumble something and Pyra would strain her hearing to tell what the warrior was trying to say. At times it was simply nothing, the mutterings of the unconscious mind. Other times it was clear. A near unheard whisper for water. That she hurt. And each time Pyra would try to fulfill her request best she could. Even as Lillian got more water on her face than down her throat, even as there was so so little that anyone could do for the pain until they could get her into a real bed. Even with Pyra’s cloak under her back trying to act like a secondary pillow.

She looked back outside. Watching the wagons trail behind theirs, the smoke billowing from where their town had once been. The others all may think that there’ll be something to come back to, but she knew better. Anything of value would either be ash or taken as spoils of war. Anyone who had anything would now be the equal of the beggars. Pyra searched the stars, desperate to find any that may look their way. No matter how hard she looked Pyra’s gaze couldn’t pierce the smoke. How fitting then, that the Gods always abandoned them in these times. Could they even see the demons actions through it all? Or were they deliberately ignoring them?

There wasn’t exactly many places that anyone could specifically go in the roads to and from Aeson. In fact to be technical there was only one road. One leading in towards it from the plains and one leading out towards the coast where they were currently going. On the caravan crawled west. They’d not stopped once, as much as many wanted to, but just as many knew that stopping so soon would be asking for death. Occasionally Calisto would hop down, passing the reigns to Lorne before walking back to start gathering abled bodied men. Calling each for them to grab a weapon of some kind, for they were going to hunt. She looked back up at the skies, and found that already she couldn’t remember when it was last blue.

Pyra tore her gaze away from the sky and instead found Lillian again. It had only been a few days but still the woman had yet to truly stir. She could no longer wait. Whatever was wrong with Lillian needed to be addressed now but even as she thought this, even as her blood quickened and her hands grew restless, Pyra looked up at Lorne with wariness and remembered his words.

If there was a problem with me.

She swallowed her fear, and finally spoke. “What’s wrong with her?” Pyra’s voice shook, but she at least stood resolute.

“Used up too much energy fightin’ the demons.” Lorne said without thinking. “She needs rest. Don’t bother her.”

“Simple exhaustion doesn’t do that.” She started to shake a little, but she put all her effort into keeping her voice even. “Something is wrong with her.”

“I’m aware.” Lorne was unmovable. Not once did he take his eyes off the road to even look at her. As if he could sense her opening her mouth again he continued. “And I know what’s wrong with her. And it’ain’t nothin’ you can help with.”

“How can you know that?” For once she lost hold of the flame that burned bright in her chest, she could almost feel the sulfur in the back of her throat. “How could you possibly know that?”

This time, Lorne did look at her. “Because you are an untempered blade, young lady. You are nothing but raw, scarred, unprocessed ore. Ain’t even got the impurities out of you yet and you wanna go on about how you can do anything to help her?” Lorne narrowed his gaze at her. “You wanna help, don’t touch her, do as ya have been and give her water. There’ll be food later, give her that iffen she can even eat. But do not,” He held up a finger threateningly, “Touch her.”

Pyra shook with rage. Oh she was afraid, she was afraid that she had already run through Lorne’s goodwill and would put her on another wagon, something that she knew would cost her her life. However above all else it was rage that flowed through her, heating her face and boiling her blood she grasped at her skirt.

“Yes sir.” She said through gritted teeth.

It seemed to satisfy Lorne. He turned back to face the road as if their conversation never happened. Pyra stared at him as if she were trying to kill him dead with nothing but her sheer force of will. Finally accepting that she couldn’t simply kill him with vibes Pyra looked back down at Lillian. Pulling her knees up to her chest as she watched the woman sleep. Her breathing was at least even. She could be thankful for that much. Lillian’s sleep had seemed to get easier, but she wasn’t waking. At best she would again mumble for water and Pyra would carefully help her drink.

“The waterskin is nearly empty.” She said softly.

“We’ll have to stop soon anyway.” Lorne sighed. “There’s a couple of water barrels and we’ll fill up there.”

Pyra nodded, despite the fact that Lorne wasn’t looking at her and fell back into uncomfortable silence. She longed to have at least something from home. She had so many chores and things to make that she could have at least kept her hands busy on the way to safety. She hadn’t been to Old Derwa, at least not that she could remember. Perhaps she went there as a child but it had been so long that she simply could not remember. Maybe there they could get some real supplies, maybe there she could get something to help Lillian, or at least fill the silence.

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She couldn’t tell how far from Aeson they were by now, only that they’d all been riding for many hours, the breakneck pace that they’d taken initially when the flames were licking at their heels had taken them some distance but they couldn’t keep that pace the whole time. Though Lorne did try. Any amount of distance between them and the demons was preferable. Pyra turned back to the stars. She wondered if it was like this the night that she had earned her title, she was only a babe then, but it had stuck with her the whole of her life. Pyra, The Unburned. It hovered at the edge of her, picking and clawing. Nothing she could do could ever get them to forget it. “The Unburned” began to sound too respectful as well, at some point in her life. Maybe when she was a preteen. A gangley thing of all arms and legs. No longer a poor, sympathetic child worthy of the feelings of pity and whatever passed for help but nearly a woman. Then it was ‘demon’s whore’, ‘abomination’, and other such titles she struggled to banish from her mind.

The skies were clear then, not choked with smoke as they are now, and yet the gods never thought to turn their gaze onto her. Never bothered to lift a finger and even push any of it out of their minds. For all of the gods that ruled the heavens and beyond, Pyra couldn’t think of a single one that had at any point bothered to think her worthy of their aid. If on a clear sky they did not see the pain of man, what did it matter if the stars were blotted out with smoke?

Pyra had nearly fallen asleep when the wagon came to a stop, jolting awake as she wiped away the drool that had started to gather on her cheek. Blinking a few times she tried to figure out what was going on and where she was, though her tired mind was more trying to remember how to even move the mount of meat it deigned to call a body. Calisto popped up from whatever he had been doing to smile at her.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” He grinned at her, his speech smoother than Lorne’s but it somehow was just as drawn out. “We’re stoppin’ for the night. Mind helping me get some food started?”

With bleary eyes Pyra nodded and clamoured out of the wagon. Helping Calisto was a simple matter. Popping open a few boxes and they found their cookware. It was nothing like what she had back home, if anything her cookware was better. The pot that Calisto insisted that he was going to make gumbo with the second they got to a town with either a river or a lake looked like they’d used it for sparring practice. It was beaten and the outside was even rusted. She was frankly horrified that they’d been cooking in it at all.

“Ah don’t give me that look darlin’,” He’d said as they set up their cooking fire. “I tell you what when we get to Ol’ Derwa and I get the stuff? I’ll let you have first pick of the beignets.”

She had only nodded. What beignets were Calisto neglected to tell her and they had far far too much to get done before she could even think about whatever food was promised to her. At first Pyra was going to take the pot and fill it with water from the barrel but decided against it, she found a bucket from their wagon instead and went to where they’d set up the water barrels to fill that. With Calisto cutting up the meat from the hunt that he’d lead Pyra satisfied herself with finding herbs to put into the stew. Walking the edges of the camp she kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Carefully extracting every dandilion that she found as well as any field garlic. Some good will towards the others might get her a little way, Pyra may have the protection of the team for now but there were only two of them and there was the entire town of Aeson against them.

Borrowing a clean knife from Calisto she got to work. Cutting up the stems of the wild garlic and chopping them into fine pieces. The slat of wood that she was using was simply going to have to do, and all she hoped was that she didn’t lose too many pieces. She could see him carving up another hunk of meat, but this time it looked like it was for another wagon. Maybe they didn’t know how to. Either way, it wasn’t her problem. Pyra turned her attention back to the onions that she’d set aside for their own meal and very carefully started to dice them. It was tricky with the blade that the archer had given her but she wasn’t about to give up now. With her greens all chopped up she dropped them into the pot along with Calisto’s meat. Peering at it she guessed it was venison but it could be something else if they were lucky. With a touch of dread, she looked over at the men that were hovering over Calisto. Each waiting for their portions to be divvied out as he cleaned their kill. Theirs had been what was probably once a bear.

Pyra sighed as she looked at the stew. There wasn’t much that was going to make it palatable to anyone who was going to be eating tonight. It was thin and watery, some chunks of meat but other than what Pyra had foraged there was precious little else. Distantly she wondered if there was anyone who was even going to turn their nose up at a meal, let alone one that she had touched. The idea that now that she was responsible for at least a few cook pots amused her, she had done her part. Handing out the field garlic to all who would take it for their own meals. She wondered if there was any amount of trust in the food that they all now watched over, stirring her wagon’s stew slightly before sitting back down next to the fire. The adults could afford to skip a meal, maybe two, and eat their fill when they made it to Old Derwa. The children couldn’t. While she consciously knew that she had done nothing wrong, that she would never do anything to hurt them - let alone hurt any of the children - it didn’t stop the thoughts in the heads of the adults that now had to care for them. Accepting the garlic from the demon-touched was a risk, a risk they all had to decide upon right now. Had she been in their shoes, Pyra thought that she would simply feed the babes. There were actual demons at their heels and if she was going to kill them she would of done so by now.

Nothing would change their minds of course. If logic and reason would have then the pain would of ended years ago. If emotion and pleading would have then her tears would of absolved her before her sixteenth summer. They had made up their minds long before they ever knew who she was, and when she had grown enough to know who that was they hated her all the more for it. As she watched the fire lick the pot Pyra began to wonder if it was even worth wasting all of those years trying to make it up to them. To prove that she was the sweet young woman that she often liked to think that she was. Bending over for them like this had at least gotten her a home, as far away as it was. Capitulating let her be able to commission niceties that ultimately meant that she had less reasons to be in town. She did everything that she could have done and yet it still wasn’t enough. They were only ever happy to take her coin.

At some point Calisto had sat down near her by their fire. He’d already gotten a few bowls for their wagon and had them waiting beside him. They looked up at each other and said nothing. There was only quiet understanding in this moment. It was cold comfort to know that someone else in the world knew your pain because they had felt it themselves. He bowed his head and took over watching the pot, starting to serve portions when he felt that the stew was good enough.

As he handed her her bowl he offered a warm smile and spoke softly. “Take this to Lillian, cher, I’ll bring yours right up.”

Pyra flinched at the sound of his voice but nodded, not expecting him to actually say anything to her. “Of course, thank you ser.”

He bowed to her with a little flourish as she turned away. Color darkening her cheeks as she scampered to the wagon with as much speed as she dared as to not spill the soup or draw any attention to herself. Pyra hoped that it was just some elven thing to react like that or that he himself was just weird, quietly praying to any god that might care that it was just that. Climbing up into the wagon and then crawling over to Lillian at least allowed her to relax. She was out of sight, safe as one could reasonably expect in this situation. Lillian looked like she might be awake, her eyes in a half-lidded state that suggested she was trying to wake up.

“Miss?” Pyra said softly, leaning in to Lillian. “You should try to eat.”

Lillian’s unfocused gaze managed to find Pyra’s general direction, mumbling something that sounded like assent. After a moment’s hesitation, looking back out the wagon’s entrance, Pyra helped Lillian sit up a little. Propping her up so that the knight wouldn’t choke.

“We’re only stopping for a little while,” She said as Lillian got settled. “We’re on the way to Old Derwa. I don’t know where we go next.”

Another nod. It seemed to simply be enough for her. With that, Pyra busied herself with making sure Lillian ate. She knew that they were going to have the quiet for only so long, and tried to cherish every second of it while it lasted.