The Blooding

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “Eww,” she had to stop herself from shrieking. Quickly wiping her face with the arm of her tunic, the first movement only seemed to smear the disgusting slime over her face. Rolling to her side, she squirmed out from under the wagon. After clearing the wheels on her side, she rolled to her feet and finished wiping her mouth and face clean.

  Staggering to her feet, she saw the shadowy form of Duncan already headed for the tree-line. Muttering to herself and still wiping her face in disgust, the still half-asleep Falon hurried after him.

  The need to find a bush was almost killing her, and she was certain that if she didn’t find somewhere to squat soon she was going to explode. Two minutes and a pair of near misses later—she had almost face planted thanks to some upraised roots—she finally started to feel awake.

  The moon was out and it was dark enough that shadows cast amongst the trees that she realized she’d been instinctively following Duncan. Slowing down, she looked off to the side; all she needed was to go off a short distance and do her business. It just needed to be far enough away that he didn’t stumble upon her on the way back.

  She gulped as she realized that meant she needed to go deeper into the woods, not closer back to camp. She was still screwing up her courage by reminding herself that she had spent plenty of evenings in the woods back home, when Duncan abruptly came to a stop.

  Caught flat-footed, she stumbled to a halt. She was still trying to tell herself it was time to brave the woods when Duncan leaned up against a tree and reached for the ties of his trousers.

  Falon’s eyes popped as soon as she realized he had apparently found his spot, and she quickly began to back away. The last thing she wanted was to watch as Duncan passed water. The thought was disgusting on so many levels that she quickly looked off to the side.

  Determined to look anywhere but the farm boy’s body, her foot caught on an upraised tree root. Tripping and falling over backwards, she landed one her bottom with an indignant squawk.

  Duncan paused and peered into the darkness, looking in her direction and she clamped a pair of hands over her mouth.

  “Is someone there?” he asked hesitantly. Realizing he must not have known she was following him, she kept one hand over her mouth and tried to slowly and carefully—but most important above all else—silently get back to her feet. The last thing she needed was to be teased about how she was scared of the woods, and had followed him instead of heading off to find her own place.

  Even though that’s exactly what I did; I would still be asleep if he hadn’t woken me with his bumbling, she reminded herself. No, the most important thing was to make her escape—and not make the same mistake twice. She was brave enough to handle the deep, dark woods all by herself; she wasn’t a little girl.

  Seeing him shake his head and start fumbling with his trousers again, Falon started to panic. Grabbing a tree for support, she abandoned some of her stealth in favor of speed. It was time to get out of here.

  When he just flopped out his manhood and started watering on the tree while still standing up, Falon stopped in shock. She thought boys only did that sort of thing, standing up, on dares and when camping and such. The rest of the time, she had thought they did their toilet like civilized people.

  Then she flushed when she realized they were out camping; there wasn’t a chamber pot around in miles, unless you counted the small one she had brought for the tent.

  Realizing she was still staring as Duncan shifted from side to side, like a painter trying to cover his moonlit canvas of tree bark with his own special pigments, her face started to burn. She was mortified at herself; peering at some boy while he did his business, like some kind of hussy trying to steal a glimpse, she let go of the tree and lunged to her feet. Mindless of her lack of balance, and thoroughly disgusted with Duncan for not making sure he was alone—eww! She fled into the woods, sure that she would be scarred for life.

  Running as fast as she could, she was heedless of the branches slapping her in the face, or tree roots trying to trip her up. All she wanted to do was get away, get away, get away, and leave the scene of her crime. She was no peeping tom-girl! She forcefully reminded herself of that little fact; everything had been a mistake, and besides the fact it was that it was Duncan! How was she going to be able to look at him in the face again?!

  Boys really ought to have more awareness of where they do their business, she thought, suddenly furious with him. Even if he didn’t know she was a girl, there were still other women in the camp! What if the Healing Wench or her apprentice had seen him?

  Filled with righteous indignation, she ground to halt. Lost in the darkness, her bladder quite clearly reminded her that it still needed to be emptied.

  Spotting a nearby tree, she wandered over and started fumbling at the ties of her trousers. Then she stopped and peered around suspiciously. After her latest experience, she felt the urgent need to make sure she, herself, hadn’t been followed. Hardly able to see anything past the next tree, she still made it a point of making sure she was alone—just like Duncan should have! Satisfied with her seclusion, she pulled down her pants and dropped into a squat.

  Feeling relieved she stood back up, jerking her trousers around her waist as she went. In her haste to not leave herself exposed, she tripped and fell off to the side. Staring at the puddle right next to her face, she felt completely and thoroughly disgusted with herself. What was she, twelve? She was almost a woman grown! Certainly she was old enough to be married and starting a family by now. Fifteen was on the younger side, but it had been known to happen frequently enough; there was no reason to act like a chicken with her head cut off!

  This time when she got back to her feet, grumbling all the while at her own stupidity, she managed to regain her feet and pull up her pants without drama. Pausing to wipe pine needles off her left flank, when she finally tied the strings in the front of her pants, she gave them a savage jerk. Satisfied with the knot she had made, she took a deep and steadying breath.

  “I’m supposed to be a man, and men are used to seeing such things,” she told herself sternly, “all the time I’m sure. So there’s no reason to be embarrassed because…well, because if…That is, I,” she paused to take a deep breath, trying to force a sense of serenity upon herself, “a boy would have seen such a sight every day of his life,” she muttered with a stamp of her foot.

  There, she thought with relief, there’s no reason to be self-conscious. A darkened, moonlit image started to creep out of her memory, and she felt her face starting to burn. But instead of panicking, she ruthlessly forced all such thoughts out of her mind with several deep, calming breaths. When this wasn’t quite enough to stop her wandering mind, she started reciting from memory the computations and equations from A Chatelaine’s Defense.

  The Defense was such a boring book that just the thought of it, followed by the mental strain of multiplying and dividing multiple several different figures all inside her head, quickly settled down her racing pulse.

  With a relieved sigh, she looked around her in concern. How was she going to get back to camp now? She thought camp and the wagons lay off to her left, but in her panic she had gotten all turned around. Feeling cross with herself, she tried to look up at the stars for help, but the branches above her head blocked out everything except for the moon.

  Shaking her head and taking herself firmly to task, she started carefully walking back to where she thought the rest of the militia was located.

  Fifteen minutes, later she had to admit that she was thoroughly lost. Not only was she lost, but she had to admit to herself that she was downright scared when what had to be the third owl that night hooted as it flew around in the darkness somewhere above her head. A few seconds later, a raccoon started chattering in the distance.

  Spooked and feeling close to tears, Falon changed direction and hoped against hope that she wouldn’t have to spend the night out in the woods—alone.

  An indeterminate amount of time went past as she wandered round, lost i
n the woods, although she wouldn’t have thought it more than a couple minutes, when she heard a faint cry. Stopping abruptly, she put a hand up to her ear to help her listen. Once again the faint cry came; this time she could identify it as having come from off to her left.

  Peering into the dark a shaft of moonlight revealed what looked like some kind of bushes. Creeping over to the bushes she once again heard the faint cry, only this time it was slightly louder which indicated she was starting to get close.

  Walking in a crouch around the edge of the bushes, the small branches started shaking. Halting in case she was sneaking up on some kind of animal, something stumbled and she heard a kind of growl.

  Falon’s heart started to race and she took a step back.

  “Shush,” she heard someone hiss, “do you want someone to come?”

  “Sorry,” muttered someone else with a laugh.

  Relieved beyond her ability to think possible mere moments before, Falon quickly hurried around the edge of the bushes. She didn’t care if she was about to interrupt someone in the middle of their business. Let them be peeing on a tree, in a bush or whatever. Anything was better than wandering lost in the woods.

  Rounding the corner into a small clearing in the woods—although it was only about a two dozen feet across and filled with some kind of berry bushes, so it really didn’t qualify as a full blown clearing—an apology was already on her lips, when in her haste her foot caught on the edge of a small bush.

  “Ouch,” she gasped as some kind of thorn dug into the leg of her trousers. “Sorry,” she winced, jerking her leg free of the bush in her hurry to be back around people again.

  Looking up in the direction of the people she had just heard, she quickly started to plead her case, “Look, I’m really sorry for disturbing you but—” her eyes bulged.

  Standing in front of her was the Apprentice of the Healing Wench with her dress hiked up to her waist, and an East Wick boy with his trousers down around his ankles.

  For a moment all three of them just stood there staring. Mortified beyond belief, Falon’s mouth dropped open. She was, well and truly beyond words.

  Turning red enough to see even in the pale moonlight, the Apprentice quickly covered her face with a hand. Pulling away from the boy standing behind her, she quickly dashed off into the woods.

  “Nyia, wait!” the boy exclaimed then turning to Falon, exposing himself for all the world to see now that the girl had run way he opened his mouth.

  “Earth and Field,” Falon gasped quickly looking away, “cover yourself. Please!” Despite herself, her eyes darted back to the boy’s midsection and then just as quickly flitted away once again. Realizing this, she raised a hand to block the view.

  “It’s not what you think,” the boy stammered, “I can explain.” Reaching down and grabbing the top of his trousers he half hopped, half stumbled after the Apprentice, every exposed inch of himself flopping around as he did so, “Nyia please!”

  “Shut up, Kerry,” she could hear Nyia shriek as she ran away.

  Falon stared as this Kerry, a boy she vaguely knew from seeing him around the Wick, his bum shining a pale white in the moonlight as he turned away from her in order to chase after his paramour.

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” the boy, Kerry, threw over his shoulder as he slammed into a tree. With one last jerk of his arms, he pulled his pants up. Holding the front laces in his hands, he disappeared around a tree and from her sight.

  “Lady’s tits,” Falon breathed staring after the retreating pair, whose secret tryst she’d unknowingly stumbled upon, she repeated, “Lady’s tits.”

  Looking down to avoid staring after the pair like the horrified virgin she was, her eyes caught on a small, fired, clay bottle leaning against a tree. She didn’t want to see what was inside it—she really didn’t—but despite this she found herself reaching down and picking it up. What if it was a love potion? She had never actually seen one before but anything was possible. In the stories, the young maiden could potentially be taken advantage of by way of a secret potion of love.

  Seeing a cork on the ground, she picked that up as well. Taking a sniff at the small bit of pottery in her hands, she wrinkled her nose. Cooking oil?

  Not wanting to know why in the world they had left behind a small bottle of cooking oil, she cocked back her arm to throw it into the woods and then hesitated. What if it really was a love potion? She couldn’t just leave it lying around, could she?

  Putting the cork back on the bottle and holding it with two fingers, so as to carry it as far from her body as possible, she looked off in the direction the two young lovers had taken off in.

  “Well at least I know which way the camp is,” she sighed. Then she could feel herself start blushing furiously. Thanks to her midnight rambling in the woods, she now knew a lot more than just that.

  Still blushing from the collar up, she hurried back to camp. Arriving back at the wagon, she couldn’t bring herself to so much as look at Duncan; the guilt she felt over her entire misadventure was almost too much to bear.

  Scooting back under the wagon, she quickly shoved the little pottery bottle into her backpack and slid between her blankets. Throwing the top cover over her head, she buried her face under her impromptu pillow.

  She might not be able to hide from the world forever, but for at least right now she was determined to try. Tonight had to be the worst night ever. She was more embarrassed in that moment than at any other in her young life.

  Chapter 8: Breaking Camp

  A Letter to Home:

  Dear Krisy Christie

  I feel as if so much has happened since the last time last talked…I hope everyone is well, and that the Littles are eating their greens. Remember to butcher old Grant, the old Billy goat with the crooked tail, before the winter. I fear he’ll get sick and then you can’t eat him.

  Also please give everyone my love, and tell Sioban she needs to mind Kaitlin more than she does

  Well then. Today is only our second day away from home but already I have something to tell you. I feel like I have to get this off my chest and tell someone, or else it’s like I’m going to explode!

  P.S. – Don’t read this next part to the munchkins.

  Anyway, I was going out into the woods last night. It was a call of nature trip, and it was just that, okay! And…and…and anyway, I saw the most terrible sight! Kerry, a farmer’s boy from East Wick, and Nyia the Apprentice Healing Wench where you know. The birds and the bees were in the bushes. Anyway, I was lost and stumbled upon them. Oh this is so embarrassing! Anyway, I fear I may have been scarred for life!

  After I discovered them, Everything was out there, just flopping around for anybody to see. After I saw them Nyia ran away with her skirt still hiked up almost to her shoulder line. I think only a hussy would be doing those sorts of things with a boy before the marriage bed. Anyway, of course I didn’t look. But fyi: boys don’t look the least bit like goats in that way! It was all very gross. Don’t look at me that way; it took time to cover my eyes with my hands!

  On a separate note: did you know that boys just wander around spraying whatever tree suits their fancy, without checking to make sure no one is around like they should? Plus, just this morning when I woke up, Duncan didn’t even bother to go out into the woods and find a tree or a bush; he just sprayed the side of the wagon wheel! Can you believe it!? If you leave them alone I fear that men are much worse than even little Rogan at his worst. I mean, at least all he did is piddle on the floor, or pee off the deck. I’m so glad we taught him right because everyone here

  Anyway, I miss you guys and even though I only have enough parchment for a couple letters, I’m really hoping I can get a scraped hide for later, so I can keep sending you updates. I know you won’t get this letter for some time, and when you do there will probably be a whole big bunch of them piled up. But writing like this helps keep me steady and feeling closer to all of you.

  With Love,

  Falon Rankin


  P.S. Boys are really Gross! Worse than I thought, even!!!

  “Hey, ye done there yet,” Duncan demanded as he dug his toe into her side.

  Irritated, she batted his foot aside. “I’m almost done,” she mumbled, unable to bear looking at him. Finishing the letter with a grand flourishing signature, she carefully rolled it up before pressing it flat and carefully placing it inside Papa’s old journal for protection. There was much less risk of it getting wet and ruined in there.

  “Hey, I’m sorry I twitted ye about being rich, okay,” Duncan sounded grumpy.

  “That’s fine,” Falon replied, still refusing to look him in the face for fear of blushing at the thought of everything she had seen last night. Following Duncan in a sleep-filled state had been the worst mistake ever. Next time she needed to take a leak, she was going to be extra careful not to follow anyone. From now on she was going to blaze her own trail—and avoid others like the plague!

  “Are ye at least going to look at me?” demanded Duncan.

  “Nope,” she said, placing the book back into her pouch.

  “Earth and Field, I don’t understand ye sometimes Falon, really I don’t,” Duncan snorted loudly before turning and stomping off, muttering something under his breath about high-strung Squire boys.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, she rolled up her blankets one at a time and carefully packed them into her bag.

  “Ye shouldn’t be so hard on him,” Ernest said from right behind her, “it was just a joke.”

  Falon jumped and almost fell over. Looking up into his face, she could feel herself blushing and quickly picked up the campaign travel pack. Holding it up to her chest, she used it as a barrier to hide most of her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said around the pack. She didn’t think she could stand to look at Ernest, Duncan or any of the boys. Maybe after she’d had some time for the memory to fade, she could—but definitely not right now. She feared she might just shrivel up and die from embarrassment.