71

Chapter 12

"That's a lot of maps."
Pine led me around a corner, into the other room of the house. In the far corner, was a tall shelf, piled and stuffed with dozens of dusty rolled up scrolls. He kneels by it, his hand hovering over a few. Finally, he pulls out one, puffing out his cheeks and blowing away the debris of the years. Tiny particles float through the ray of fading sunlight let in by the single window.
"Ah, yes, here we are. The Wold." He announces proudly, setting down a large scroll on the wooden kitchen table in the center of the room.
He unrolls it, stretching out his arms to pin down either side of the map, which is almost five feet long.
Fascinated, I lean forward over the map, my nose practically touching it. The map smells wonderful, of aging parchment and seasoned wood. It's obviously hand-drawn, not printed like the City-made map my mother had owned.
"And... Here, is where we are," Pine's finger taps a section on the upper east corner of the Wold, not far from the large clearing that contains the First City.
The Wold in enormous. I'm overwhelmed by sheer size of it, and how far we have to travel.
"The mountain," His fingers travels over to a section quite far from where we are. A scribble breaks through the ink dots that are trees. I guess that's the mountain. Suddenly I'm glad I can read the label- My mother had taught me what her parents had taught her. In my family, the ability to read and write has been passed down from the time before the apocalypse, back when the Wold had been called America, almost two hundred years ago. I realize how embarrassing it would be not to know how to read.
"How far is that?" I ask, leaning in closer to the map, as if the answer will reveal itself.
"Not terribly far, only ten or so miles. Now, to the peak, that's-" He begins, but we're interrupted. Suddenly we're washed with crimson gold light, the essence of the setting sun, when the door opens us. We both glance up, to see Stone standing in the doorway. He looks surprised to see us with the map, but only for a second, his face instantly sinking back into an unreadable mask.
"It's almost dark. We'll have to stay here overnight and leave in the morning." He walks up to us, examining the map. I think that it's rather rude to invite himself to stay with his grandfather for the night, especially after he has helped us-me, then, so much already.
"Sure. The big couch folds into a bed, but that's where I sleep. I've got some sheets and extra cushions, though, you can use the floor." Pine shrugs, eyes intent on the map.
"The Wold," Stone reads, looking over my shoulder, which makes me shiver, " Yeah, we're going the mountains. Long journey ahead of us. Best get some sleep." He yawns hugely, much like a dog, and scratches his ruffled hair, messing it up even more.
"I'll lay out some night clothes, as well as fresh ones for the morning. You can bathe with water from the well, if you like." Pine snaps the map shut, holding it under his arm.
"Sounds great, I'm filthy." I examine my skin, almost brown with dirt.
"Good. You must be hungry as well, I'll start with supper." Pine goes over to the kitchen fireplace, in which hangs a large black pot. My stomach growls, and I realize I haven't eaten for an entire day.
"Starving." Me and Stone say together, turning and glaring at each other. "I'm going to wash up." I turn and head out the door, which slams back into place behind me.
The market place has gone from a milling mass of people, to a silent place that reminds me of a graveyard. The vendors stands have been locked up, wooden boards latched over the sides. There is only scraps of food left over on the cobblestone that show anyone was ever there at all. Miniature Beasts are scurrying about, gnawing on crumbs and apple cores. I shoo them away, and stroll over to the well in the center.
I'm deep in thought. Stone's grandfather didn't seem to hate him at all, and was very hospitable. And yet there was a certain unaddressed coldness between them that told me I didn't want to get in the middle of whatever was going on. Then when I had said we were going to the mountains, Pine had suddenly looked disappointed, almost sad. Why?
Mind wheeling, I sit on the edge of the well, staring down into the blackness. I reach my hand inside, rubbing my fingers against the cool stone. Pine's words haunt me. "I've been many, many things..." What did that mean? So had he been a doctor? At one point? Or had he simply been implying that he had not been a doctor at all, but was as good as? I rub my temples, my brain aching.
What I was most confused about, however, was Stone. Both about the mystery surrounding him, and himself. Both he and his grandfather had been stumbling over his name, which led my imagination on a heyday. I didn't even want to try and figure that one out.
A cool gust of wind whistles through the surrounding trees, and I close my eyes, letting it blow my thick brown hair out behind me. Stone. He had saved me, from the Beast. That was all I could think about. Him pulling the Beast away from me with his bare hands. Why had he saved me? Why didn't he let me die? If I really was just someone he happened to pick up along the way, why would he have bothered to save me?
A glint on the ground catches my eye, and I bend over to get a better look. A single penny lies on the ground, the copper catching the last rays of the dying sun. I grasp it between my thumb and forefinger, absently rubbing it between the two fingers, mulling over everything that had happened.
Holding my hand over the well, I close my eyes. Make a wish, Ash. And I do wish. I can't tell you what I wished, though, for then it may never come true. I flick the coin off my thumbnail, opening my eyes to watch it flip over and over, falling into the darkness forever. Eventually I hear a plop as it hits the water far, far below me.
"What'd you wish for?" The voice says behind me, making me jump. Stone is standing about ten feet behind me.
"God, you scared me. I didn't hear the door close." I turn back to the well.
"That's what windows are for. What did you wish for?" He says again, coming up to me, and looking down at the well.
"I can't tell you, then it won't come true." He snorts, shaking his head.
"You really believe that stuff?"
"You believe in a rebel force made up of Man and Beast, that has it's base on top of the tallest mountain in the Wold." I retort, which shuts him up.
"Pine- Your grandfather is nice." I say, changing the subject. He shrugs, putting his hand on the crank to haul up the bucket.
"He doesn't seem to hate you."
"That's-" He grunts, shoving down on the rusty crank, which emits an earsplitting shriek, then begins moving, making a rough grinding noise. "Because you're here."
I purse my lips, frustrated, turning back to the well.
"Why did you save me? Back there with the Beast?" I shudder, recalling the vivid memories.
He's silent for a while, muscles bulging with the strain of cranking the rusted handle. "Because I couldn't have it on my conscience."
"What conscience?" I snort, but I feel his answer is too simple to describe what happened. I make a mental note to ask him later.
"There's a picture on your grandfather's rug, in there," I jerk my head towards the cabin. "It looks like you." I'm thinking of the prince, above the First City. Same vibrant blue eyes, facial features, and dark hair. I realize the only thing it's missing is the wolf ears.
"That thing?" He laughs, but I watch his hands, which have begun to shake, ever so slightly. Could just be the strain of the sticky crank. Might not be. "Just one of my grandfather's crazy old trinkets. He bought it from some traveling merchant, means nothing." He says dismissively. I say nothing, but recall what Pine said about the rug being a gift from his son. My eyes narrow suspiciously.
"There you go," He finally takes his arms off the crank, rubbing his biceps, which, I can't help but notice, are very large. Sometimes I need to slap myself.
"Thanks," I reach in and unhook the large wooden bucket from the hook, setting in on the ground at my feet. Neither of us speaks for a while.
"Um," I finally say, glancing at Stone, then the bucket, and back again.
"Oh, right," He says awkwardly, standing and scratching his head again, which he seems to have a habit of doing when he doesn't know what to say. "Yeah, I- I'll be... Inside..." He gestures to the house, and then turns away and walks back to the house. I wait until the door slams shut to move.
Just in case, I carry the bucket over between a group of bushes on the edge of the forest and a closed up shop, before I feel safe stripping. My shirt is a dirty rawhide rag by now. I scrub it as best I can in the bucket, and hang it to dry on the edge of the cart. My shorts are in no better shape, but I do the same for them, as well as my underclothes.
I sit on the ground, and dip my head back into the bucket, feeling the cold water on my skin. I dig my fingers into my scalp, scrubbing away the grime as best I could, washing around my furry cat ears. which rest up on my head a little higher than normal human ears would. I draw my head out, and whipping my hair around a couple times, flinging excess water droplets away. I braid my long brown hair, so when it dries it will be wavy. No, it's not because of St... All right, I lie.
I realize I have nothing to wash myself with, but, conveniently, the cart was a cloth merchant's shop. I reach in between the boards, picking a small, rough square of linen, sure no one will miss it. Then I set to work, scrubbing my skin almost raw in an effort to clear it of filth.
Reveling in the sensation of cleanliness, I allowed myself to ponder what had just happened. Pine and Stone with different stories relating to the same object. Which was the right one? Or were they both faulty?
In his old age, Pine might have forgotten how he had really come by the artifact, in which case, Stone's recount of the event was the one to trust. However, Pine didn't seem like the kind of man to be forgetful, and if he had been, I wouldn't have been letting him stick some chemicals into a hole in my leg. So, if he was correct, then Stone was the one who was lying. And if a person lies about a matter as small as a simple rug, there's no telling what other important things they could have made up to cover up a more sinister purpose... But...
And so on. I sit down to scrub my feet, and grimace at the task. Going bare foot through a forest can lead to a slight dirt build up. I set to work, grinding away the filth that makes my pale skin brown.
The sun is almost down, so I hurry up. Usually Beasts won't come into an obviously populated area, but at night, they can get a little crazy. Plus, the nocturnal Beasts are always the more dangerous ones. That thing that almost ate me for a snack today? That was a baby. The really dangerous Beasts? Those are the ones that you hear at night- Except for the silent killers. Sometimes, you only hear the death scream of their victim, before the unfortunate creature is torn to pieces, or gulped down whole.
I shiver as the last red and coral tendrils in the sky fade to darkness. Hurriedly, I finish with the other foot, and stand back up. The shadows are eating up the last rays of the sun. In the near-darkness, my clean skin, almost ivory, just about glows. I wrinkle my nose at my cloths, still dirty, and slowly reach for my shirt, not wanting to put the rags back on.
"Um, Ash?" I scream, wrapping my arms over my chest. I whirl about, looking all around me, but nobody's there. I sign in relief, hearing Stone tapping on the other side of the cloth merchant's cart.
"What? Don't come around!" I add, just in case. You can never be too sure.
"Er, Grandfather told me to bring out your night clothes. Didn't seem to think you'd want to change back into your dirty ones." A bundle flys over the roof of the cart, and I catch it.
"He was right," I call, holding it up. It's a white night dress, the bottom and the neckline lined with elaborate lace. Okay, so it's no ball gown, but I'm just glad I get to get out of my dirty torn rags. I throw on my underclothes, which aren't that dirty, and then the gown over that. It weighs practically nothing, and feels like air. I don't feel secure, actually. I still feel naked, as I'm used to wearing heavy leather clothes.
"Laugh, and you die," I warn, stepping out from behind the cart, my dark braid hung over my shoulder. I have a split second of panic, wondering if I should smile. No, that might look stupid. But what if I look too blank?
I grin embarrassedly anyways, looking at my feet, which are now almost clean. Looking up, I have a hard time looking at Stone, who seems to also be having a hard time picking his jaw up.
"Close your mouth. You'll catch flies." I say, walking by him and tapping the bottom of his jaw lightly, up the steps to the cabin. I can't believe I did that.
The two windows outside glow with warm light from the flickering fireplaces, though, and suddenly, for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.