Hands pull back, tugging at the reigns.
The ashva comes to a grinding halt before the might of a roaring river.
She neighs in agitation, my hand worms its way onto the back of her neck, fingers twirling in circles, gently massaging her brown coat.
"Eaassy girl" I coo at the rattled horse, calming here.
I reach for the saddle bag, fishing out a map.
Unfurling its parchment on her wide back, I lean forward gleaning into its contents.
~Ahh~
My shoulders relax as a weary breath slips from me.
I fold the map and return it to its rightful place.
I'll have to take a detour, there should be a bridge a few paces from where I am.
Hopefully I haven't veered that much off the path.
With a slight prod, the ashva makes a turn, trotting off.
Her steps unsure as the ground below was slippery from the thawing snow.
It takes me barely a minute to come before a stone bridge, weathered yet sturdy.
After short bout of urging her on, she complies, setting foot onto the massive stone structure.
My eyes look down below- into the rushing wave of black.
The half frozen waters churn, sweeping away shards of ice in their furious deluge.
This would be Lixsela river, a distibutary of Ekat marra as it cuts through the land making its way to the black sea, flowing into the port city of Flotsam- or so says the map.
~sighs~
Ahh, a walk down the memory lane.
To think, a couple of weeks ago, I was in my death throes- desperately clinging at a chance of survival.
How fast time passes.
Arms reach to a bundle behind my back, giving it a few pats.
This would be the prime spot to discard off these garments- they've become a source of torment of late.
But my logic kicks in.
why should I cast them off when I stand to make a few Orens off them?
Call it misguided logic or it's my avarice speaking.
I shrug off further thoughts on the matter, its not like the'll be someone looking for them... or even find them if they come looking.
[It's settled then]
Riding off, I look back,
I might come to regret this.
But the appeal was too strong to refrain.
The road shifts from bare dirt and grass and starts having a semblance of maintenance.
Cobbled and with furrows to drain off the muck.
Better to walk on but not any gentler to the horse- heck, it might even be worse if you looked into it.
Ahh, I digress!
Back on the road, the sun had already begun its decent, just a few more hours and it will be fully sunk- giving way for the night.
It wasn't a concern really, as signs of civilization had already began showing.
A few barns and cattle trails along the way told me how close I was coming to reaching the keep.
I'll be there, long before the sun has set- plenty of time to tick off the task.
Heck, I might even have time to haggle off a few wares.
~~
A towering castle at a distance signals my arrival.
I couldn't help but stare, maw wide agape- imprinting its grandeour into my mind.
I think its time I picked up my journal- this sight is worth a sketch.
Taking that thought as a cue, I open my pack and fish out my trusty journal.
A quick sniff against its charred parchment let a wave of nostalgia, catching me unaware and unexpectedly.
Reminded of my best moments, my fingers intimately traces its spine- gently parting its leather-bound hard cover.
I flip through the pages, sighs of longing escaping with every turn.
Finally, I come to an empty page- wiping off charred remnants and ash I take a charcoal bit from the same pack.
Everything quiets down- to match the ambience, only faint sound of skibbling remained, everything else muted.
~Neighs~
I had lost the sense of time, it is the suddden neigh from 'good girl' that roused me from my focused reverie.
She'd been so patient with me.
I give her a gentle pat, closing the journal on my lap.
With everything tucked and secured, we ride on, closing in on the gates.
I wait in line as the guards inspect a merchant carriage before me.
Receives a hidden pouch, so subtle that you wouldn't notice- the deft of hands and skills of one who has mastered their 'craft'.
I watch silent- everyone has to eat.
A few coins to look the other side - such is the world we live in.
"Next!"
"Where 'ere ye' headed?"
The guard asks
"The keep." I say, handing him the note.
He scans the stamp, looking for traces of forgery.
Content, he hands it back.
"That'll be two Orens." He says, shamelessly extending his hands.
Really? Haven't had enough already? I curse inwardly
Nonetheless, I hand him the said amount- riding off into the city.
The smell hit me the moment I enter- as if giving me a welcome.
A concoction of myriad smells
The vile smell of decay, fermenting manure-
What with these people building stables so close to the gates?
I muse, scrunching my nose.
That was just the beginning-
There was the noxious smell of tanned leather, smoke, spices, rotting vegetable, freshly baked bread, molten metal....
All meshing together to form an odour unbearable to noses not used to them.
The smell of a thriving city- the smell of prosperity or so I have been told.
I get off the horse, I wouldn't make it with her, I head to the stables- she'll be well looked after.
As for the people?
Crowded beyond my wildest imagination.
Carts rushing by, scraping against my figure,
Bumping with city folk who cris-crossed the streets.
I keep a hand aganist my coin pouch, lest i find it 'borrowed'
And the sounds of clattering, vendors advetising their wares, as if in a bid to out do each other.
Think of Lum's burrow, but then multiply it a hundred. No, a thousand fold then you'll get to reach this level of disarray- just barely.
I recoil as I feel my boot sink in something soft, immediately locking my eyes onto my boots.
Urgh!
A retch escapes- why can't people be civil?