Slowly Mirlín undressed herself, thinking about what had happened to Fyen. She didn't want to become worried about it before they even knew what they were dealing with. Too bad I don't know much about magick. Maybe Reynaer's more familiar with that stuff and I could ask him in a roundabout way if it's possible that hexes and curses start to haunt the witch who has cast them.
She stepped into the water and shuddered. Bloody hell this is cold! She washed herself quickly, trying to manage her long hair and taking extra care to wash the lock tangled by Fyen's drool. When washing her thighs, she ran her fingers over a large, snow-white scar on her inner thigh. It reached from her knee halfway up her thigh. Marked for life. That fucker.
She finished bathing and walked back to the sand. The sun warmed her back and it still felt like summer even though autumn was coming. Then a thin smile wavered on her lips. Shit, how fun was that display of Reynaer's! He has obviously taken us under his wing... Well, I'll trust those well-defined muscles of his, Mirlín sniggered.
She dried herself and squeezed most of the water out of her long hair, then got dressed again but didn't put the wolf hide on this time. She smelled something cooking in the camp and followed her nose. Mirlín was hungry but just like in the morning, she did not have much of an appetite. It was often the case after nights with Eleanora. Except this time it was possible that she had died for the last time and in the future Mirlín would only be borrowing her clothes. The thought made her feel slightly better and as she spotted Reynaer and Desiderius fussing around the fire, the thin smile returned.
Something was burning in the camp. "You idiot, you're not supposed to cook the bread! It's already cooked!" Reynaer snapped at the young man.
"I wanted to make toast!" Desiderius explained scratching his head in bewilderment. All the while, Fyen sat unmoving, staring into the fire.
"Dinner's ready, huh?" Mirlín asked, smiling wryly.
Reynaer tossed a pinchful of salt into the sizzling, full frying pan. "Just gotta fry the eggs first. Would have been ready by now if numbnuts here hadn't insisted that burning the bread was necessary."
"Go easy on him. Might be his first real outing," Mirlín smirked and received an almost thankful look from Desiderius. Reynaer had broken eight eggs on the frying pan and Mirlín felt her appetite improve a little at the smell of food.
"You need help?" Mirlín asked the man, still squeezing water out of her hair.
Reynaer looked up. "All I've used is oil and salt. If you want to use other spices or herbs, feel free."
"It's fine. I like my meals simple," the woman replied and sat down by the fire.
Fyen raised her eyes and glanced at Mirlín. "Hi."
"Are you hungry at all after such a huge breakfast?" the woman asked.
The girl lowered her voice. "I was but the trout kinda stole my appetite."
"A hot meal usually makes it better. You should at least try and eat something because we're going to ride a few hours before the next stop."
Fyen hugged her knees and buried her face in her arms. "I'll try. How was your bath? You got rid of the drool?"
"Yeah, sorry I gave you hard time about it. I'm always cranky in the mornings when I've stayed up late." Then she too lowered her voice. "Especially if the morning starts with having to involuntarily flash my tits to someone I rather didn't," Mirlín said and let out a short laugh.
"I'm sorry I opened the door. I didn't mean to embarrass you. Besides, with a body like that, you have nothing to be embarrassed about," Fyen said, looking down at her own flat chest.
"Oh, come on, you have plenty of time to grow some front padding. You should have bigger issues than that on your mind right now," Mirlín laughed.
The girl shrugged. "I guess. Oh, and don't worry about the morning crankies, I had it coming all the way what with getting completely wasted and stuff."
"So, let's forget about it all, ok?" Mirlín smiled.
Fyen put her head against the woman's shoulder, her black hair falling down on Mirlín's brown armor. "All forgotten, all forgiven, flowing tears are now forbidden," she said drowsily.
"Eggs, bread, and cheese all around! A meal fit for a king! Dig in girls!" Desiderius announced proudly, handing out loaves of bread while Reynaer sat beside them and handed over plates with a piece of cheese and two eggs each.
"It's not much but it'll keep us going until we reach the village. We still have some jerky and dried fruit for the road," Reynaer said.
"You're a man full of surprises, aren't you?" Mirlín asked, pointing at the meal.
The man winked at her. "Well, I've learned a thing or two on the road over the years."
"Hm, I wonder what other secret skills you have."
Reynaer raised an eyebrow and grinned. "You'd be surprised."
Desiderius had been wolfing down his eggs but was now staring at the two trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Then he set his plate aside and grabbed his notebook and pen from his bag and scribbled down something.
After a moment Reynaer broke the uncomfortable silence. "Fyen, you haven't touched your eggs."
The girl kept turning the loaf of bread in her hands. "Sorry, I ate such a sturdy breakfast that I'm still not very hungry." Nonetheless, she grabbed her fork and ate a few mouthfuls of the eggs before offering her plate to Mirlín. "I'm sorry but I'm really not hungry. Please have my share."
"I can take it!" Desiderius yelped.
Fyen shoved his extended hand away. "I offered it to Mirlín!"
"Why don't you give it to the poor boy still growing up," the woman suggested.
"You sure you don't want it?" the girl asked.
"I'm fine thanks."
Finally Fyen handed over her plate and bread to Desiderius. "May this food quench your bottomless appetite," she said with a wan smile.
"Cheers!" The boy gorged the eggs and then started to munch on the bread and cheese with abandon.
"Shit!"
Again the stick was lying on the ground, having been knocked out of Fyen's hands with surprising ease. Mirlín and Desiderius were tearing down their camp but both watched while Reynaer sparred with the raven girl, who had insisted on another fencing lesson before hitting the road again.
"Relax your mind, keep a firm grip, and your breath steady," the man instructed Fyen. She picked up her stick, took her stance, and braced herself. "Ready?" Reynaer asked. The girl nodded.
After several more infinitely frustrating rounds, Fyen's knuckles were aching, her thighs, arms, back, and stomach were sore from all the pokes and whacks she had received, and her mood was thunder.
"I didn’t get you once!" she exclaimed, stomping her foot.
Reynaer gave his stick quick twirl. "Yes you did, twice."
"You let me hit you!" the girl insisted.
"No, I didn't."
"You told me to hit you!" Fyen felt ready to explode but instead heaved a frustrated breath and wiped sweat off her brow.
“Come on, last one,” Reynaer said and raised his stick almost casually.
Automatically Fyen’s jaws clenched and her body tensed up. Already breathless and in desperation mode, she didn’t wait for an opportunity, an opening, or any other chance to attack but, instead, just charged in blindly, hoping to score a lucky hit. Like always, her stick was somehow deflected. This time, however, they ended up in close proximity, their weapons entangled. Fyen’s mind had gone blank but there was a new kind of clarity to the chaos, clarity she had never experienced before and instantly the movements became flowing without her needing to think about them. She just became aware of an opening and launched a hard kick at Reynaer’s shin. It connected well but a burst of stars erupted in the girl’s vision. It hurt. It hurt like she had kicked a stone wall. The man nudged her and while Fyen had lost her balance, attempting to retain control of her weapon, she decided to chance it and relinquished one hand. She proceeded to punch the man in the gut but instead of having him double over or even grunt, there was no reaction on Reynaer while a sharp pain flashed in Fyen’s wrist as it bent into an awkward angle and her knuckles hurt. It wasn’t unlike she had punched the proverbial stone wall.
Then there was one of those annoyingly swift, precise movements and, once again, Fyen was left unarmed with two sticks pointing at her neck. She felt like bursting into tears of frustration and anger.
“You did good,” the big man said and tossed the two sticks into a nearby bush.
“Good? I suck!” Fyen cried with a quiver in her voice.
"Well, look at it this way," Reynaer said, "you're already miles ahead of what you were back in Kumby. Keep practicing regardless of frustration, regardless of pain, and you'll get better day by day, session after session." Then he smiled. "I know you feel angry right now because I made it hard on you but focus on knowing that right now, after this frustrating exercise, you're better than you were half an hour ago. You hear?"
Still feeling flustered, the girl shrugged. "It's not that I don't know you're right but... Reyn, it’s just so… infuriating!"
"Keep your sword close, practice every evening before going to sleep, and you'll see," Reynaer said as he walked back to the others.
Fyen watched his wide back and felt an odd mixture of dissatisfaction and contentment. Her heart rate gradually returning to normal, the raven girl sighed and started after the man. At least the hard part's over for today.
"Fyen, hurry up! It's time for your riding lesson!" Mirlín shouted. Oh bugger...
By noon they were on horseback. Reynaer led the party with Fyen behind him while Midwin and Snappy held the rear. The pony simply followed Mirlín's horse as Desiderius was busy scribbling away on his notepad.
Mirlín was giving Fyen riding advice. "Chin up and heels down! You have to keep your hips and lower back relaxed," she shouted.
"But it's so hard to follow her movements. It seems like every time I start to get hold of the rhythm, somehow my timing still ends up all wrong," the girl yelled over her shoulder.
"Keep the balls of your feet steady on the stirrups. And shift your weight on your legs alternately between steps. You notice the trot is a twofold gait?"
Fyen thought about it for a moment. "Uh-huh. What if we need to gallop?"
Mirlín pondered how to explain it to the raven girl. "Umm, you can either support yourself on the stirrups but it's tiring for your legs in the long run... when you sit you have to be relaxed, try to follow Nightmare's movements, um, it's like... you have to... ok, they don't teach it like this in riding schools but you have to imagine you're humping the saddle," she finally said.
Fyen turned around on her saddle to face Mirlín and looked at the woman, confused. “Er… humping… right.”
She recalled a particularly excitable dog who had once tried humping her leg and quickly grasped the idea. Suddenly Fyen found she had to readjust the way she looked at riding. It was quite embarrassing, really, to display her inexperience by glowing cheeks. Then again, at least Mirlín seemed fairly upfront about the subject whereas all the women Fyen had grown up around had made it absolutely sure to shield the girl’s fragile little mind from all things deemed dirty.
Soon the path became wider and the soil felt more solid under the horses' hooves.
"Reynaer! Could we gallop a little?" Mirlín shouted.
"For how long?" the man asked, turning on Brownie's back.
"As long as the horses want," Mirlín answered.
Reynaer gave a thumbs up, turned to face the road, and pressed his heels against the horse's sides. Brownie farted magnificently and shot forward in a mad gallop. Nightmare threw her neck and bucked a little before breaking into a fast gallop as well.
Fyen tried her best to make love to her saddle but bounced up and down like a sack of potatoes on a cart sent downhill without a horse. She also found it rather awkward to try to exaggerate the movement now that Mirlín had given the required motions such an embarrassing stigma. The woman laughed heartily and leaned over Midwin's neck. His long, black mane hit the woman's face as the gelding flew through the forest, his long strides swallowing distance in an attempt to overtake Nightmare. Snappy's little hooves moved faster than ever as she tried her best to keep up with the big horses. The animals galloped for a good ten minutes before slowing down to a trot and finally to a walk.
All the riders were almost as out of breath as the horses. Smiling, Mirlín patted Midwin. The best horse a girl could have. Faithfully he had carried Mirlín, taken care of the woman when her legs had given up, galloped to her when she had called, and every morning he greeted Mirlín with a gentle chortle. Midwin was the only one that had stayed by her side.
Fyen moved Nightmare to the side of the road, making room for Mirlín. "Whew, that was fun. Although a bit painful in the beginning before I got the good sense to stand up."
"You'll do even better next time. It’s easy to learn while you’re still young," Mirlín replied and smiled.
Fyen returned her smile. "I try my best but I'm just so clumsy and weak. I have trouble even with the sword even though Reynaer is a good teacher."
"He's good all right," Mirlín replied and gave Midwin loose reins.
The gelding arched his neck, enjoying the stretch. After a while they had to stop for a drink and to answer nature's calls. The horses tore leaves and grass from the undergrowth, looking like they enjoyed traveling as much as their riders. Mirlín sat on a rock to fasten her bootlaces, noticing she felt healthier than in months as even her legs didn't ache. Must be these people, this weather, this purpose I finally have. She looked up at Fyen who was stroking Nightmare's neck, a faint smile on her thin lips. I just wish these days with us won't tear away all of her innocence. Big parts of it are already lost.
By the time they mounted again, the sunset had colored the sky blazing red and Mirlín tightened her cloak as the air was getting chilly. They rode on slowly, enjoying the fresh evening, and despite the purpose of their journey, they all felt tranquil and at peace. The forest had started to turn from emerald green to sunny yellow but the leaves weren't falling yet. Mirlín glanced at the thick foliage and let her mind wander. Autumn's always been my favorite season. The most beautiful autumns I saw when I was a little girl. But isn't the world more beautiful through innocent eyes? It is curious how innocent people bring innocence out of those who think they are too hardened to see something like autumns as they used to be. She shook her head at her rambling mind.
Reynaer turned on his saddle to face the others. "The forest ends behind the next bend, after that it's about half a mile of open land to the village."
As they rode out of the forest, Mirlín glanced at Fyen. "Are you up for another gallop?"
The girl grinned and dug her heels to Nightmare's sides. As Mirlín kept an eye on Fyen, she was certain that the girl too had learned to enjoy the air rushing through her hair and the landscape turning into a beautiful blur of colors. She must have felt the same sensation of flying Mirlín always felt when Midwin galloped with the wind.
She noticed that Fyen was following Nightmare's movements better now, so she loosened Midwin's reins a little and the gelding shot forward like an arrow. Midwin galloped past Brownie and took the lead. Mirlín laughed, unable to remember the last time she had enjoyed riding this much. It was wild again, like in her childhood, racing with people she could almost call friends.
She and Midwin reached the village fast. Though it appeared to be an actual town, set up in a wide plain with acres of open land stretching as far as the eye could see. It was surrounded by a wall of tall wooden posts which were sharpened at the top. Midwin rushed past the open gates before gradually slowing down to a halt. Mirlín looked over her shoulder to see where the others were. Fyen came in next, an ecstatic grin on her face. Soon Reynaer rode in, his black cloak fluttering in the brisk wind and, after a while, Snappy appeared.
"Where's Desiderius?" Mirlín asked.
Reynaer turned Brownie around and trotted back out. Shortly he came back, chuckling to himself. "The boy is about a quarter mile out into the plains, limping this way. Snappy's gallop must have been a bit too much for him."
"Guess we should've warned him that we were about to race again." Mirlín muttered but couldn't conceal an amused grin.
Finally Desiderius limped through the gates, holding his backside with one hand and carrying his notebook and pen in the other. "Damn you all! Next time warn me when you’re about to shoot off like that! Snappy almost had a heart attack, probably thought that there were danglendons or huckaboos chasing us! So then she just tossed me off her back and my pen fell into a mole burrow!" He sucked on his right index finger. "The mole bit me."
"Sorry, Des," Mirlín apologized with poorly hidden mirth. Then they went to search for stables and quarters for the night.
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