Background: So this is something I've been working on for the past few weeks now (more like months since MS Word likes to delete my editting. Blah). It is something I'm pretty proud of so far but that doesn't mean I don't want ideas, suggestions, opinions, anything really. I just want to know how people feel about what I've written. The idea to do this came from way back when Jenny and I started co-writing stuff. I decided to stick with what I already know but I'm giving Jenny full credit because the character of Amaya belongs to her. However, a long time ago we gave permission to each other to use one another's characters. But yeah, I want this to get published someday so, long story short, CRITIQUE ME!
Chapter 1(First Half)
The campfire dwindled.
Ash with tiny pinpoints of yellow and orange throughout, dark and light mingled together marked the end of the fire’s brilliance. A once beautiful, comforting sight now provided minimal warmth against the autumn weather of this eighth month. No fire, no smoke, no warmth, just the ash, lethargic in lieu of the fire that once took dominion over it.
Layne awoke as the cold crept through his tattered blanket and molested his back, barely hidden under the rags which he, for some reason, still called clothing. The thin undershirt he adorned looked dingy gray under the moonlight though at one point, he assumed it must have been white. What had happened to his tunic? What about his leather vest? His head ached with the memory of gambling them away in the last town during a pitiful dice game. Snake eyes. An accursed parallel to the diminished hope he felt laying here in the bitter cold.
Climbing from the small cloth shelter atop his body, Layne examined the campfire, grabbed a spare twig and poked angrily at the lazy ash. No sign of life twinkled back, no fire roared at his beckoning, and still no heat. The few remaining embers seemed to twinkle back at him, mocking his chill with their playful winking. He gave up and sulked at the prospect of another cold, sleepless night under the stars.
Grabbing his makeshift sheet, he settled back against the rough edges of the earth. His body squirmed, shivered, and shook in countless directions trying to find even a semblance of comfort. Though in the end his attempts found nothing but futility.
Layne drifted in and out of complaining thoughts, quite out of character for him. Tonight he still loved the land, but really hated the cold; still found comfort in nature, but not on the hard ground where he now tried to sleep; still lived for traveling, but tonight especially, desperately yearned for the arms of a woman and a warm pint of ale.
He decided to call a truce with the nightly chill and pulled his arms from beneath the blanket, since it provided very little help for this temperature anyway, and arranged his arms underneath his head. His brown eyes met the small lights far in the distance and he searched for the North Star, his friendly travel companion and unwavering guide. It took his skilled traveler’s eye only moments to find it. He slowly pondered his course for tomorrow, which would hopefully bring him right to the royal city of Raesin, or at least a welcoming inn somewhere along the way.
An inn sounded marvelous. A newly made pitcher of ale brought by a busty barmaid with a giggly, girlish smile and a lusty suggestion in her eyes. Layne imagined the liquid burning his throat as it went down, settling in his stomach, satisfying the cold that plagued him right down to his soul. The fantasy beckoned to him. He sat up. Why should he sit here withering away in the cold? He could be traveling, getting far away from this gods-forsaken field. His stomach seemed to growl in agreement, but his head bid him against the idea. Danger lurked around every corner during nightly travel. He had discovered during his last seven years of living off the land and sticking to the road that traveling in the cover of shadow tended to be more detrimental than helpful. He remembered the many scuffles that had come his way. Most of them were animal fights, but he had met the occasional human and those meetings oftentimes did not end well.
Conflict arose between his gut and his brain. On one hand he could leave this very moment, and possibly make it to Raesin by mid-afternoon tomorrow, or he could wait, freeze to death, and resume his travels safely in the morning possibly having acquired a cold for all his trouble.
His yearning for a fireplace and a hot meal made an easy victory. He stood, kicked the pile of ash in an act of total defiance, and gathered his very few belongings; his blanket, a small flask of water (almost empty), a couple pieces of dried venison, and the pack in which it all resided. Lastly, he double-checked his side, fingered the large hunting knife resting there, and then felt safe enough to move forward.
Layne began walking and immediately felt recharged. The open plains ahead of welcomed him and a calm familiarity settled over him. The dewy grass danced around his feet as he set his pace and the waning moon accompanied by the tiny pinpricks of stars brightened the night sky. He felt small but in the best kind of way; like being snuggled to his mother’s breast or a lover’s side while falling fast asleep. Nature had always been his maternal figure, he supposed, at least since the very young age of fifteen years. Nature held all of the components necessary of a mother; it encouraged him to move forward when he simply wanted to give up; it whispered bedtime stories through insect chirps and soft breezes; it held him close when times were rough; clothed him; fed him; intrigued him beyond words. He realized for the first time that at some point within the last seven years nature had become synonymous with familial companionship. When?
Deep in thought he propelled forward, the northern wind sending his dark brown hair into frenzy about his serious features. He needed a haircut and a shave, but one needed money for that and money did not come readily available these days. In town hopefully everything would change. So many unsuspecting town folk, their coin purses fat against their hips, especially in a town with as much wealth as Raesin. Simply a matter of time…
Suddenly his idle thoughts shut down and the muscles in his body tensed tightly one by one. The feeling held great familiarity. He called it his defensive system, the way he had survived life this long on the road. The wind changed, just a minuscule amount, enough for him to notice but not enough to send him grabbing for his knife. His steps slowed, his ears perked up, he made his movement scarce and silent. Someone or something lay ahead. A small break in the wind’s pattern as it hit the grass told him of the unknown presence. He liked to believe that nature held conversations with him this way, communicated with him and protected him from harm.
Paying close, absolute attention Layne started to analyze the size of the creature based on the disruption in the winds direction. He scanned the horizon briefly; saw no smoke, no rising firelight. His ears heard no conversation, and the hair on the back of his neck did not rise in response to danger. At this point he concluded that he stumbled upon a small, dead animal, and even if it were still alive, that it posed him no threat.
Layne closed in slowly on the life form and decided to grab his knife in case he could salvage some of the carcass’s meat. Over the last few days his food supply had dwindled and he needed to start replenishing it. Its shadow became slightly visible in the moonlight and he crouched, ready to inspect its remains.
As Layne neared closer it appeared as though someone else had already gotten to the animal, as evidenced by the thin frame and lack of fur. Instead of giving up, he edged closer in hopes that something, anything had been overlooked and now left for his taking.
It was then that he realized this was not indeed the body of a deceased animal.
No.
It was the body of a young girl.
Her clothes were in shreds about her, barely covering her frail form at all. Her hair an unkempt, disheveled mess hid her face. Dirt stained her legs, arms, everywhere, and mingled with large, black and blue bruises. And cuts? Were those gashes that he saw along her calves?
By the gods, by the gods, his mind screamed at him, is she alive? He no longer concerned himself with being quiet. Grass shuffled as he moved, dew spraying him and the body of the girl before him. He cursed himself for never considering buying medical supplies, never thinking he would need them for himself. He would have done anything for bandages, aloe root, something he could use to help her.
Layne grabbed her hand, and pressed a finger against her tiny wrist. His stomach dropped as he detected a very faint thump, thump, thump. Bile rose in his throat as the flood of fear dissipated, replaced by the nervousness of not knowing what to do to keep her alive. He thought quickly, removed his pack and grabbed the blanket. With haste he tore it in to multiple strips and lifted one of her legs to inspect the gash on her thigh intending to use the dismembered blanket as bandages for her wounds.
He heard a groan and stopped immediately, staring into the dark strands of hair covering her face, looking for movement, and a sign of life.
The groan turned in to heavy breathing, and he felt her leg shiver just a bit. He placed it back on the ground and eased his body closer to her face.
“You…” The sound hardly existed. Was she talking?
He started to believe he imagined it, wanting it to be there so bad that his mind conjured it, but then he heard it again, faintly, “Are you going to…hurt me? Please don’t….”
The weakness of her voice made for difficult hearing, but he knew what she said. The words tore at his heart and turned his stomach. He got down very close to her and moved the limp, lifeless hair from her face. Her eyes were tired, scared slits.
“Hon, listen to me.” He spoke tenderly, making direct eye contact, hoping that she could see his intentions, and know that he meant her no harm, “You’ve been hurt. I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m going to help you. I need you to lie still, and I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
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chipper
accomplished
happy
giggly
anxious