by LeRoy Clary
His eyes darted around, looking for a way out. But he stood in the open with no adequate cover close enough to reach before she could release her arrow. His options were to run in any unprotected direction. Or, he could charge right at her. The latter would earn him an arrow, or two.
Anna saw the indecision cross his mind, the slump of his shoulders, the giving up. She motioned with the tip of the arrow fitted to the bowstring for him to sit. He shook his head vigorously and pointed to one side, then moved a few steps before sitting, but not so far that it might concern her. She eased closer, careful to stay out of range if he should decide to rush her.
The ground near where he sat had a red ant pile, the little beasts swarming and moving closer to him. That was why he’d refused to sit at first. She motioned again, “Move further away before they get you.”
She examined the man as he scooted away from the ants. He was tall and thin enough to be ill. His cheeks were sunken, his hands mostly long, skinny fingers. Desert dirt coated him from head to foot. No, it was more than dirt, it was mud, she realized. Intentionally applied to his face, neck, ears, and hands. His clothing was ragged, also covered in brown mud that appeared more clay than sand.
“Who are you trying to hide from?” she asked, turning her nose up at the mud.
“People.”
“So you cover yourself in mud to hide?”
“Bugs.” The words came slowly, after a slight hesitation.
Two individual sentences of one word each. Conversation with him would be scant if he kept that up. She realized he was a little older than her. He was probably less than twenty, but with the mud caked on him, the filthy hair, and untrimmed beard, it was hard to tell.
“Bugs?”
“Keeps bugs away.”
The mud helped keep night bugs like mosquitoes and black flies away. She understood and approved. “Who are you?”
He shrugged.
“A name. What do people call you?”
“Thief.”
“No, not what you do. What’s your name?”
“Thief.”
Anna relaxed on the pull of the bow, but kept the arrow seated and ready to release in an instant. “People call you ‘Thief’ because you steal from them, I understand that. But you must have a name.”
He shook his head.
“What do you do out here?”
He looked away as if he didn’t understand the question. He inhaled and let the breath out slowly, looking off into the distance.
Anna took three steps back and sat on a small boulder. She kept a close watch on him. “Why were you following me?”
“Food.”
“What else?”
He gave her a questioning glance before turning away again. He either didn’t want to answer or had none.
“Were you going to hurt me or steal my things?”
“Food.”
He answered too slowly, after a short pause each time she asked him a question as if considering each answer and being careful only to answer what she asked. His responses were those of a young child who got caught dipping a finger into the honey jar without permission. Now that she paid attention, she realized he didn’t scare her. Despite him being so much taller that her head wouldn’t reach higher than his chest, there was a calmness about him. A certain serenity.
“Are you hungry?” She asked. “That’s why you wanted food?”
“Yes.”
“So you were going to steal my food but not hurt me?”
“No.”
The single word of the answer could mean several things. Earlier, he’d said he followed her because of food. From his answer, he might not steal her food, and might not hurt her, or neither—or both. Was that all he wanted? “What else were you going to do?”
“Watch.”
Watch? She considered the single word again and thought she might be beginning to understand. “You were going to watch me and see where and how I found my food?”
He nodded.
That was smart. By watching her, he might learn a new skill to help him survive. A fly landed on his arm. It looked like a horsefly, one that would take a bite of his flesh and leave blood dripping from a wound. The boy didn’t slap at it to kill it. He brushed it off with the side of his hand. She liked that. Killing is necessary at times, but the needless killing of anything, even a horsefly caused her to cringe.
On impulse, she slipped her backpack off and removed a small leather sack with a drawstring. It contained a mixture of dried grapes, nuts, grains, and smoked venison, her favorite food for traveling. It was light to carry, and in a small bag, it would last for days. She tossed it to him.
He opened it and peered inside, finally pouring some into his filthy palm before looking closer. Then he carefully poured it all back into the bag.
“Don’t you want any?”
He nodded. She hadn’t told him to eat it; she’d just thrown the bag in his direction. He had caught it. The interesting thing was that he didn’t eat any despite being hungry. It didn’t belong to him, and she hadn’t expressly told him it was acceptable to eat it. Anna felt she was beginning to understand him a little more.
“Take some. It’s yours,” she ordered, hoping he poured out the exact same nuts and kernels that had rested in his filthy palm before. She was not a prude about eating, but there were limits. She glanced at the mud-caked hands again and decided she might give it all to him.
He carefully poured a tiny amount into his hand and lifted his eyes, silently asking if he’d taken too much. Sighing, she motioned for him to take more. After waiting for him to eat, she accepted the almost full sack back.
She said, “Now I have to make a camp and get some sleep. I want you to go back to yours.”
He stood slack and limp as wet clothing hanging on a line to dry.
“Thief, it is time for you to leave.”
He turned and walked slowly away, looking confused but not angry. Still, she watched him until he disappeared over a small hill to the west. She walked in the opposite direction determined to put as much distance between her and ‘Thief’ as possible before making a campsite. While he appeared harmless, she didn’t want to worry about him staying close or returning.
The ground was more solid with less blowing sand slowing her. She walked and half-ran, always keeping an eye behind. The sun felt warm on her back finally settled below the horizon, and Anna’s spirits lifted. She was on her way.
CHAPTER THREE
As the sun went down behind her, Anna saw the first hints of green appear in the drab landscape. The desert floor now held a few small plants struggling to survive on the limited water. Ahead spread a green ridge where the land rose, and trees grew. Her instinct was to reach it before dark, but training said the distance was too great. In the drylands things often appear closer than reality.
The last water bottle still held enough to splash when she shook it. She came to an area littered with the spines of cacti, most from a sprawling pear cactus that covered an entire hillside. Using the last of the light to step carefully until she was ten paces into the cactus patch, Anna used her blanket as a broom to sweep a space clear of spines to sleep. While the location was not protected from the wind, the spines littering the ground all around would deter animals from getting close to her, and that included most men.
There would be no warm campfire tonight for Thief, or others nearby to locate her. She laid on her back and watched the stars until falling asleep. Nearby coyotes woke her a few times, but their howling was almost welcome. As was her practice in the wild, she woke several times and listened to the sounds of the night, sniffed familiar and unfamiliar scents, and peered into the darkness before drifting off again. In all, the night was refreshing.
She awoke with the first light and immediately headed for the green ridge, the last of her traveling food in hand. When it was gone, hunger still growled in her stomach. Head down and one foot in front of the other brought her to a path covered in footprints, old and fre
sh alike. It was not a road, but a track that many desert dwellers used. It was close enough to the ridge to indicate the people often moved from the wooded areas ahead to the barren lands behind, and back again. What sort of people would they be?
Supplying an answer to her own question, Farmers, tradesmen, soldiers, and craftsmen could all be eliminated. People belonging to many of the remaining groups were not ones she cared to encounter. Her eyes scanned the area searching for another route. To her left was a shallow, rugged valley. Walking there would be hard and progress slow. On her right were hills rising and falling, some almost as high as small mountains. It would take twice as long to move up and over them.
Anna squared her shoulders and shifted the belt holding her knife, so it moved to her front, into easier reach. To run was always an option, but running into danger was stupid and had happened to more than one person after a clever trap had been strung. Instead, she walked quickly, keeping her eyes and ears alert. She chose to move on the lower ground where possible, so she didn’t skyline herself. She constantly watched both sides of the track for escape routes and memorized them to keep in mind at all times.
Finally, climbing a long hill brought leafy trees at the top of the ridge. Upon reaching them, the track widened to become a small road, and Anna felt safer for a time. But, as a child of the desert, she quickly realized her mind played tricks. Back in the desert, there was little for a foe to hide behind, or in front of. It was possible to spot an enemy a thousand paces away and make preparations. Maybe two or three paces if she kept a good watch. At that distance running was a better option than fighting.
However, walking along a narrow road with trees and thick underbrush growing right up to the sides, made her uneasy. Ahead looked like walking down a tunnel. An attacker could be squatted behind the next bush and leap out before she could react. Anna pulled to a wary stop. The road was ten times more dangerous than the open drylands. Worse, every footprint that she had observed down there in the drylands had come from this road where she now stood.
While she had seen nothing overt to alert her, she felt eyes watching. An opening in the undergrowth to her left told where deer and small animals crossed the road, probably heading for a stream to drink. She sidestepped to the edge of the road and ducked into the dense growth.
After a few steps into the underbrush, it cleared somewhat. The underbrush always grew heavier right beside a road where it received plenty of sunshine. The deer path carried her for some time until it turned the wrong direction. She left the path and settled on the ground behind the trunk of an oak large enough to hide behind. She waited and watched. Her hunger would also wait.
The bow slipped noiselessly out of her pack, and she strung it. With an arrow ready to fly there came more sitting, listening, and watching. When Anna was sure nobody followed her, she still couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes looking at her. In family stories, ignoring instincts like not listening to feelings had gotten more people killed than she knew how to count.
Anna wanted to hurry on but waited and wished a dragon had come with her. She missed sensing the dragons on the tattoo on her back. At home in the hills near the drylands, several reds usually roosted, sometimes joined by a black or tan. Almost every day of her life she had felt the slight tingling and tickles that told her one, or more, was nearby. On the trip with Gray, there had been a continuous presence. However, since leaving her family on this trip there had not been a single touch by a dragon. The lack of the dragon touch made her feel more alone than ever.
Finally, she stood and stalked back the way she had come, ready to fight or flee. If anyone tried sneaking up on her, she’d take the fight to them, or run. But again there was nobody there. She turned and adjusted her pack and sleeping roll, still feeling the tinge of fear. It could be she’d talked herself into being afraid. She moved through the forest using the sun in her face to guide her.
After climbing a series of low hills, she reached the crest of one, and between the trees, she found a wide, almost treeless valley covered in the greenest grass pastures she’d ever seen. A flock of sheep grazed under the watchful eyes of a sheepherder. His black and white dog came alert and peered in her direction, testing the breeze with several sniffs. Smoke rose from a chimney far enough to be whisked away by the same morning breeze. She stayed still.
She watched the dog herding the sheep before it spotted her. It wouldn’t be long before it sounded its warning. Circling around the valley would probably take a full day, and there was no guarantee there wasn’t another valley beyond. It would be friendlier to walk out into the open and introduce herself before the dog told the world she was sneaking around and watching.
The dog came on point for a brief second as she left the protection of the forest. It barked madly and looked at the herder, who held out a hand to calm it, and at the same time praised the dog. He ordered it to calm several times, and it did, but Anna had no doubt the dog also knew commands to attack.
As she walked in his direction, the flock shifted until it was all behind the sheepherder, as if the sheep knew his job was to protect them. The eyes of a hundred cautious sheep watched her every step.
When she was close enough, she paused, raised an empty hand and called, “Hello.”
The sheep herder motioned for her to come closer. When she was almost to him the dog couldn’t be contained anymore, and it raced to her, sniffing and running circles. Anna tried to pet it, but it moved too fast, darting one way and then the next until it finally lunged to land almost at her feet and rolled over. She dutifully scratched the dog’s belly.
The herder was older, probably thirty. His face was long, as was his nose. His teeth were too big for his mouth. She said, “My name is Anna.”
“Theo.”
“I like your dog.”
“Me too. If you’re good people, he lets you scratch his stomach. Otherwise, he bites. I let him decide who comes near me.”
She laughed, still scratching the dog’s stomach. “Can I buy some food from you?”
Theo hesitated and flicked a fly away from his large nose. “Travelers usually carry what they need.”
“I gave my food to a hungry man I met in the desert. He needed it more than me,” she shrugged.
“Gave? Or he took it?”
“Gave.”
“So my dog was right about you. I have food to spare, but I do not sell it to friends.”
“We’re friends?” she said, using the high pitched voice that took two years off of her age. She might as well practice her deception while she had the opportunity.
He carried a staff, as most herders did, and most Dragon Clan members. She had no indication he was part of her family, but neither did she doubt he could handle the staff as a weapon. He probably carried it every day of his life, clearing brush from where he intended to walk, striking snakes before they could bite, while keeping the sheep moving. It was a tool, an extension of his hand and arm. He used it to point to the small house in the distance.
They walked together while the dog remained on watch with the sheep. Inside the house was warm and comfortable. A single cup sat unwashed on the table. Everywhere was tidy, but undecorated. In short, the house was functional. No woman lived here.
A set of storage shelves was fastened to one wall of the kitchen. On them sat jars of several sizes and shapes, all containing food. The small fireplace still had a few black logs, mostly burned, but still throwing heat into the room against the morning chill.
As he poured water into another cup and added a sprinkle of tea, Theo said, “What sort of food would suit you, young lady, and how much?”
“Enough for two days.”
“Going to King Ember’s Summer Palace are you?” He reached for a jar and pulled the cap off, exposing the dried apple slices inside.
She nodded that she liked them. The palace was not her ultimate destination, but she said, “How did you guess?”
“That’s about all in that direction when you walk for two d
ays. Your family there? Or a husband?” His teasing smile at the last comment provided her the opportunity to enforce the age she was pretending to be.
“I’m only twelve. My mother’s mother is there. She fell and needs someone to help her with the chores until she is well.”
“Your mother should have sent someone with you to protect you on the trip. A little girl is not safe on her own.”
“The men are off hunting. It’s only a three-day walk, and most of that’s along the road, so it’s safe enough. Besides, I can run fast.” She added the last because it seemed like something the girl she pretended to be would say, then felt awkward because it was a stupid comment. Her story would have to improve for the next encounter.
He offered her dried beans and peas, but she shook her head. Next, he had jerky in a large jar, and she eagerly nodded. If dried and smoked right, it was one of her favorite foods. After shredding a few slices, he added the jerky to the mixture of nuts and dried fruit until he had a substantial pile, and then he scooped it all into a small cotton sack. He reached into a bowl for several small, flat, biscuits and added them, another of her favorites. Baked until hard all the way through, usually with garlic or onion, they would last for days even though they were bland and hard to chew, but good food for traveling.
While he had been busy, Anna had slipped a small copper coin from her purse; the size most called a ‘thin.' Not much, but enough. She placed it on the table and moved her empty mug to cover it. She managed to thank him and leave before he discovered the gift. Coins were hard for farmers to come by. One day in the future she might come this way again and knew she’d be welcome, so it was money well spent, and only fair that he be paid for his generosity.
She soon came to a stream where the water ran fast and clear. She filled her water jar and also filled herself by drinking it dry twice before hanging the refilled jar by the loop over her neck. She chewed on a dried apple slice while walking, finding it had been soaked in tingling spices before drying, making it all the better. The world around her now felt right. She wanted to linger and play in the water, like a few years ago, but it was still morning and the palace a long distance away.