The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

The Darkness Roams

Fox was tied to a tree just beyond the village. Once Lark had tightened the girth again, they mounted up and were underway. As promised, it was pitch black in the forest, but Fox did not seem to be having any difficulties at her slow pace.

It was also loud. The birdsong during the day had been airy and distant, but the current insect song was as thick as if they were wading through it. Able couldn't identify any of the calls he heard, but he didn't have to. They didn't have to mean anything. He closed his eyes and let the noise wash over him, let it drown out his thoughts and memories.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in the ocean. Ripples of light washed across his arms. He looked up and saw it was growing darker. The world rocked back and forth as though he were on a boat, as though he were standing on top of the ocean instead of within it. The air was cold, no, colder than cold. A piercing cold tinged with wood smoke that stung his nose and throat. A persistent cold that set into his bones and made him shrink. He heard deep rushes within the water, like strokes of an oar. Like deep breaths...breaths of a large beast. He turned to look deeper into the ocean and spotted a dark shape. It was coming towards the light, it was what was getting darker, it was a whale. A whale come to swallow the sun. But then it turned its neck to look at him and it was a bear, a massive black bear. It snorted, blasting the cold air into his lungs and its eyes glinted in the

Sudden light. Able woke to stare at a tangle of hair in his eyes. Oh, it was Lark's braid. He lifted his head up to see half a moon high on the eastern horizon. They were in a field, and Fox was still steadily plodding along towards the seaport.

"...I fell asleep?" Able gingerly lifted himself the rest of the way from Lark's back, but his body was so achingly stiff he might not manage to stay upright long. "I never thought I would sleep again."

"Well, you seemed pretty asleep to me," Lark replied with a chuckle. "But if you're awake now, do you mind if I pick up the pace? I'd like to get home before daybreak, or I'm not likely to get any sleep myself."

"Oh." Able had not thought about how he was being selfish wanting to leave as he had. "Yeah, go ahead."

As Lark coaxed Fox into a trot, Able rubbed his face to wake up some more and discovered a wet spot on his cheek. And yes, there was a matching spot on Lark's back.

"So, uh... I'm afraid I drooled on your jacket."

"Oh," Lark sounded slightly put out, but then the cheer returned. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll wash it tomorrow. Today. Ha, I'll just wash it at some point."

"I could wash it for you."

Lark shook his head. "Oh, no, that is quite all right." The possessive tone suggested it was best to let the matter drop.

Still, Able was so tired that talking might be necessary to keep him awake. "What happened with the villagers? ...what's going to happen to them?"

"Kettlebrook isn't quite a village, but I take your point." That seemed unusually pedantic of Lark. But he continued after a pause, "If you can keep this to yourself..." He glanced back over his shoulder. Ah.

"You mean not tell the Sheriff's men?" Was there a scenario where they might force Able to tell them such things? Not so long as he followed the law himself, there shouldn't. "I should be able to do that."

"All right." Lark seemed genuinely at ease again. "So they were warned. Nothing very specific, but they'd known since the outpost went up that the Resistance intended to target it, so people, especially the ones with children, had already been leaving. Moving to different towns with family and the like. Others had been lightening their belongings to prepare to move. This afternoon some members came around to get us out, saying an operation was underway and there was going to be trouble. Pack anything you might need over the next few days, or anything small enough to carry that you cannot bear to lose.