by Dane Bagley
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Jashion and Jemma awoke to the dimmer light of the early evening. The heat of the day had warmed them, but in nearly every other way they were uncomfortable. Jashion was stiff, his leg ached, he was weak with hunger and thirst, and his head was cloudy. When he stirred Jemma had awoken and moved a few feet away from him reflexively. She was in better shape than Jashion, but still not well. She was warm then and she had drunk water in the stream before going to sleep. Still, her feet hurt and she was starving—twenty-four hours with no food was not compatible with her metabolism and the degree of energy she had exerted over the past day.
They spent some minutes sitting on the ground across from each other without looking at one other. Jashion was stretching his right leg, testing it before making any attempt to arise. Independent of the gash, his legs, arms, and back were sore from the events of the night. He had lost some blood and that, combined with his hunger and thirst, kept his mental state in a daze. There were perhaps two hours left of daylight by the looks of it. The forest was nearly quiet, but some sounds were heard. Not the least was the sound of the nearby stream.
“Ye found a stream, didn’t ye?” he said, breaking the silence.
“Aye. It’s not far, can ye walk?”
“Nay, but I must, I had.”
Jashion shifted to a kneeling position and then put his left foot on the ground. The movements sent sharp pains from his gash. He stayed in that position for a few seconds bowing his head down. Jemma hopped up on her tender bare feet and walked over to offer what help she could. With some effort, and in obvious discomfort, Jashion made it to his feet. The stretching sent more pain; as he shifted his weight to the right leg he wondered if he shouldn’t just sit back down. But he had no choice. Both he and Jemma would starve right there if he didn’t move.
Jemma reached up and grabbed his right hand. She would lead him to the stream and thought that by holding his hand she was taking some of his weight. The two made it slowly toward the stream, stopping frequently. The stream was down a small incline. Jemma could make it up and down easily, but the extra burden was very difficult for Jashion. Finally, he sat down and scooted himself down to the stream. The water was cold and very refreshing. He knelt over the stream and cupped his hands, drinking in as much as he could. Once his thirst was partially abated he sat back and removed his shoe from his right foot. He gently put his right leg into the stream up to his knee. Once the gash was submerged he felt an exceedingly sharp sting. He sat back, closed his eyes, and waited it out. Eventually the stinging stopped and the coolness of the water helped it to feel better.
When he opened his eyes again Jemma was nowhere in sight. Sitting there with his leg in the stream he began to look around. It was getting darker and very shadowy, yet the visibility was still tolerable. As he listened intently he heard occasional rustling of leaves and he would turn his head to look. He did not see anything move. After several minutes, he decided to call out.
“Jemma. Where is ye?”
For several minutes it was still. It felt calm and peaceful. The sound of the rushing water of the stream combined with an occasional bird call contrasted beautifully to the night before. He became psychologically settled enough that he could begin to reflect upon what had happened. Everyone was gone. He had no home. A chill ran up his back as he visualized Siccly being taken. He recalled the fire and the fury. He had watched his friends and companions burn. Currently his life was spared, but he was in a precarious position himself. His only companion was a little child whom he would have to protect and care for. He was injured and had never been away from food, from shelter, and fire.
Jashion’s heart was heavy, but his physical hunger began to gnaw at him and awaken him from this dread. His head was finally clear, and he felt some renewal to his strength.
“Jemma. Jemma,” he called out again.
This time, from across the stream, he heard more significant rustling of the leaves, and Jemma shortly appeared. She had something in her hands. A large shadow was over the area from which she appeared, and he could not get a good look at her. She began to walk into the stream and over towards him. In her hands was a sprig of red berries.
“Ye hadn’t any, had ye?” he called out once he saw what she was carrying.
Jemma stopped in the middle of the stream and looked as though she was about to get a scolding.
“Aye, me’s eaten a bunch. These is for ye. There’s more, there is.” She continued on towards him. She arrived in front of him and looked at him pleadingly.
Jashion beckoned her to come and sit next to him. He was worried that the berries were poisonous. However, explaining that to her didn’t make much sense. She had eaten them by the bunches, he could see from the stains on her face, hands, and nightgown. All he would do is frighten her at this point. She handed him the sprig full of berries.
“Thanks. I’ll hav’m in a bit. I’m not hungry just yet.”
She looked at him in disbelief. What? Had he eaten while I was gone, she thought. And why hadn’t he saved any for me?
Jashion was starving, and they looked good. But if they were both sick what good would that do. He decided to give it a few more minutes to see if they had any ill effect upon her.
“I’ll fetch us s’more before it gets dark.”
“Nay, but ye’ll stay here, ye will. I’ll go with ye and we’ll fetch ‘um together, we will; in just a moment.”
Jemma sat obediently but she was very confused. Jashion began to wonder more about her. She seemed to be holding up very well for a youngin’ that had just lost everything. He considered asking her about her family and home, but then thought better of it. Like telling her that the berries could be poisonous, what good would come from bringing up all that she had lost? At least she had her personal discomforts to focus her mind away from the tragedy that she had just survived.
After several minutes, some tears began to well up in her eyes. She was looking down at the ground and her arms were around her shins.
“How’s ye tummy, Jemma? Is ye tummy hurtin’?” he asked, getting concerned.
She shook her head and then wiped the tears.
“Ye tummy’s fine, is it?”
“Aye, me tummy is fine. Me’s still hungry, though.”
“I’m famished,” he said smiling, and she looked at him quizzically again. He began popping the berries in his mouth. They were sweet with just a slight bitterness. The sprig was cleaned off in a moment, not touching his hunger but rather igniting it.
He began to explain to Jemma that sometimes berries can be poisonous and that he was worried about her, that he had to watch her to see if she was fine.
"Me knows that these is not badens. Me saw birds at ‘em, Me did. Birds don’t go at the badens. Me had these’ns before. These is good, they is,” she explained emphatically. In her mind, she could not understand how he thought that she might have brought to him poisonous berries—he was her friend. Didn’t he know that me was taking care of him, she wondered.
Jashion began to remove his left shoe and to roll up his left pant-leg. He grabbed both shoes in his right hand and put his left leg in the shallow stream. He stood up and reached for Jemma’s hand. She hopped up quickly and grabbed his. They made their way across the stream and over towards the berries. It was more shadowy on the other side, as the forest was getting deeper and the sun was setting quickly. The darkness was approaching faster than he liked.
Jemma was pleased when she found the berries and pulled Jashion towards them. Jashion was disappointed at the quantity when he arrived. If he ate every last berry he would only begin to satisfy his hunger, and she was still hungry.
Jemma was not shy as she confronted the bush. She picked and popped the berries ambidextrously. Jashion soon joined in. After just a few minutes they were spending more time searching than eating. He had found more than he had expected but was still hungry. It was rather dark then, and he wasn’t sure what to make of their circumstances.
“Did ye find any more berries?” he asked when the bush was picked clean.
She shook her head and said, “Nay.” Her upbraided expression concerned Jashion. He was not chiding her; he was just asking. He could tell that she must have been scolded regularly. She constantly aims to please, and feels so bad if I am not pleased, he thought.
“Ye did very good Jemma, ye did. I’m so full now, how about ye?”
Her beaming expression and the nodding of her head made him smile. Neither of them could have been full, but they were better than they were and she knew, finally, that she had done right, and that he was pleased.
The moment was broken by a distant howl. They had rested, and felt at peace since early that morning. It was clear that danger still lurked. They were not safe as the night approached. It would not have been far to travel back the way that they had come. They could have easily retraced their steps across the stream and back to where they had slept. They could have left the wooded area and gone back to the path that they had been following out of Dargaer. But Dromreign was still the most pressing danger in their minds. The deeper and denser the forest, the less likely that they could be spotted by the dragon and the safer it seemed to them. They pressed southeast and into the density of the darkening forest.
Twigs snapped and leaves crackled under the weight of their footsteps. Theirs was a symphonic sound contrasted to the silence of the forest. Everything within earshot knew exactly where they were and where they were headed. Jemma winced with pain at times as she stepped. Jashion, more focused on his whereabouts and the direction of his travel than on his companion, finally noticed the discomfort of his fellow traveler.
“Wear ye me shoes, Jemma,” he said kindly.
“Nay, but they’s too big for me, ye keep ‘em,” she said. “Me’s fine, me is.”
Darkness had been creeping in since they had awoken, by then it was enveloping them. The trees were nothing more than darker vertical shadows against the overall darkness. They walked slowly with their hands outstretched in front of them, trying to avoid running into anything in the blackness of the night. Their footsteps and the sound of their own breathing, mingled with an occasional scurrying of a small animal, was all that they had heard for some time. The second wolf howl of the night stopped them in their steps. It was louder and closer than it had been before. They both stood there silently and listened for several minutes.
Again, no sound could be heard and they silently rejoined their journey. The darkness became impenetrable to their eyes. Jashion turned his head and looked around instinctively, trying to glimpse what lie ahead with his peripheral vision. Even that was to no avail. His fingers felt the bark of a large tree in front of him. He stopped and felt around the tree and decided to rest up against it. He sat with his back against the tree as Jemma sat against the same tree on his right.
Neither of the travelers were sleepy, so they sat there with their eyes open and stared into the darkness. In the silence and in the darkness, they searched and listened intensely. After many minutes the sounds of the forest became apparent. Slowly their dark-adapted eyes perceived bits of light. One small patch of the sky was visible and some stars were making their way onto the evening’s imagery. In time, they both stared up at this and another smaller patch of visible starlight. Danger did not seem very near. Only the scurrying of small animals could be heard and no longer did wolf howls pierce the silence.
They, however, could not have picked a worse spot to stop for the night. High above them, in the branches of the very tree with which they were resting against the trunk, was an enormous anaconda. The snake, too, was wide awake and silently listening in the dark. It had heard their approach and had sensed their presence as they stopped up against the trunk of its tree. Slowly and silently it was unraveling itself. Its head and tail, both loose, were dangling downward. Inch by inch it moved toward its prey, our travelers unaware.
This beast was well known to the other creatures lurking in the forest. Nothing was so deadly and as dangerous as this giant anaconda. Even the wolves would not enter into its domain. As the snake’s extremities neared the ground, it sensed its prey—one small and one large. If it acted carefully it could have both. If one got away it would prefer to have the large one. But the small one would be the easiest to capture.
Jashion felt his leg near the gash. It was very warm—almost hot—swollen and tender. He, very gently, rubbed around the injured area. Since soaking it in the stream it had been tolerable to walk on. Sitting for a while it was becoming painful and he wondered how it would feel to try to walk again. He glanced toward Jemma, though he could scarcely see her outline, and wondered how her feet were holding up. She was indeed rubbing each of her feet with her hands. Jashion heard a branch snap up above him, and the two looked up. Nothing could be seen, and it became instantly quiet again. Then Jemma made a tiny shriek. A rather large insect had begun to crawl up her leg. She began to slap and push at her leg frantically.
“What’s it ye’re screamin’ at?” Jashion asked as he turned and leaned towards her.
“A bug’s crawlin’ up me leg,” she said in a forced quietness.
She was still fussing with her leg, though the insect was gone, as the anaconda’s tail began to wrap around her trunk. She assumed that it was Jashion’s arm coming around her to comfort her, so she did not turn from it—being glad for the comfort, and of having him close to her. She would have liked to have sat on his lap, and have both of his arms around her at this moment. But the embrace that she was about to receive was much more that she had bargained for. In mere moments, the anaconda had wrapped around her sufficiently to begin to squeeze and to pull her up. She shrieked again, this time violently.
Jashion could tell that she moved, and thought momentarily that the bug was back. He reached towards her, but her body was not there.
“Jemma,” he called. There was no reply. The beast had her tight then, such that she had almost no function in her lungs. Jashion felt towards her again and called out more loudly. He stood up slowly such that upon hitting his head on the tree branch above him it did not smart too much.
“Ouch,” he said and began to rub his head. He started to walk forward until his nose touched the coiled body of the anaconda wrapped around Jemma. It took him a moment to realize what his face was up against. He could feel that it was scaly and then he felt it move and the muscles tense. He began to beat upon the body of the snake with his fists. He swung again and again, but his blows couldn’t break the snakes grip on Jemma. He bent down looking for a stick to jab into the body of the snake.
The snake was pleased, the large one didn’t run; it would have both the large and the small prey to feast upon. While Jashion shuffled his hands around on the ground looking for a stick, the snake circled head first around his left leg. A stick was found just as the snake tightened around his leg. The stick and the beatings would be for the part of the snake attacking him, rather than the portion of the anaconda crushing Jemma.
Jashion and his blows were no match for the strength of the anaconda. In short order Jashion was wrapped up in the snake’s coil. He fought with whatever limb had movement for as long as he could, but he could not break the grip of the snake, and the pressure was getting tighter. Soon he was having trouble breathing and each breath became shorter. The tightness evolved from pressure to pain, and he felt that his bones would snap in two. His fingers began to scratch and dig into the body of the snake near his hands—it was useless but he was going to give the fight every bit that he could. He began to feel faint from the lack of oxygen and slowly his consciousness began to fade.
Out of the dark another pair of eyes beheld the scene. This traveler had not made a sound and the anaconda had not so much as caught a whiff of his scent. Slowly, silently, ever so carefully an arrow was placed on the bow and the string pulled back. A silent exhale, a pause, and the string was released. For just an instant the anaconda heard the sound before this fierce beast heard no more. The ar
row pierced the snake’s head from underneath and went straight through its brain. It died instantly, but its massive coiled body was still crushing Jemma and Jashion.
The keen hunter reached behind his head and drew his sword from the scabbard he wore on his back. If he had had a companion, his companion would not have known where Aiden had aimed, or what he had struck—the night black with darkness. But Aiden saw in the blackness what others could not, owing to his synesthesia. He saw the anaconda’s head drop, and he knew that it was killed. He raced toward the dead, yet still deadly, beast. Quick, powerful, and sure were the strikes he struck upon the body. He continued to work in near silence until the sound of two coiled heaps hit the ground.
A thud, but no other sound was heard. He went to the larger and unwound the coils. A man, unconscious, injured and weak, but alive, lay in front of him. This man would live, he would save him. Next, he turned his attention to the smaller heap and removed the smaller, tighter coils, revealing the delicate body of a child, a little girl.
Chapter 3