The frozen stream on the very outskirts of the kingdom was the finish line for James. And it seemed the rest of the group had the same thought. The crowd gathered at the point on Folk's Hill, under the privacy of the forest trees, to prepare for an even longer journey. James scoured the hill, his mind already moving back to his original mission. There was a reason he chose Folk's Hill in particular.
'Strange,' he thought, still searching, 'They're not here.'
Another woman from the mass of people scooped Rhea away.
"I think this is where we say our goodbyes."
James eyed Mercy, who was rationing out stolen blankets and food with the men. She counted, then counted some more. Her hands curled in and out of frantic fists as she realized there were a lot more people than supplies.
'God, this couldn't be over soon enough.'
"I agree," James nodded to Rhea, and the woman, before taking off his too small suit jacket. "Take care."
The stranger wrapped his jacket around Rhea's shoulders. Rubbing her stomach, she looked down the hill, over Lenoria, a small speck beneath her now. For the first time in a while, she felt the tiniest bit of relief.
[James headed over to Mercy]. She was crouched in front of a child now, wrapping the ripped bottom of her dress around his neck to supply him with a make-shift scarf.
"...And always stay close to someone you trust. You can do this--"
"Ahem."
"One second," she whispered to the boy.
Mercy rose, shaking from nerves and biting frost. Behind her, that wide eyed kid appeared. He lifted his face up to James and, he swore, the kid stuck out his tongue at him. It happened so fast, he might've imagined it. But, the kid grabbed his friend and they scampered away, leaving James with no choice but to refocus.
"The ring."
"Not yet," Mercy said firmly. "We can go a little further."
"No," a [tall man] took the words right from James' mouth. "You've done enough. You're very brave, but you're both still young. That's two more responsibilities. It's best if you stay."
[With a firm hand on her shoulder, the man reassured that the group must, and would, continue on their own. Many had already started filing off into the woods.]
"We'll make it."
When Mercy sighed, the [man nodded].
"Your names?"
"Mercy."
James shoved his hands in his pockets, casting a glance at the nuisance he'd met over an hour ago, Mercy. He was reluctant, but he gave his name too.
"James."
"Mercy, James, thanks to the both of you for what you've done. From all of us," [and with that, the group was gone.]
Finally, the goose chase was over. He was a good half hour behind schedule, but all that mattered was that he brought what was asked of him. James pulled up his mask, wiping an odd amount of sweat from his brow.
"Alright. A deal is a deal," he held out his hand, shivers eating up the hair on his spine. "I'm cold, so let's make this brief."
Mercy took off her mask too. Her cheeks burned from the trek, tinging them a beaten cooper. She quickly cast her face to the ground.
"Fine." [she pat her pockets.] "No," turning them inside out, she dropped to the snow. "No, no! God, where'd it--"
"Stop." James narrowed the space between them, too much for Mercy's liking. "Where'd you hide it?"
'Damn it.' Sure, Mercy wasn't the best liar, but she couldn't be that bad.
Once James saw her face scrunch, he knew he called her bluff. Stepping away, he retraced all the places he'd seen her.
"That's pretty smart. Quick thinking, I'll give you that. But, I obviously didn't think you were going to give me the ring on my first ask. And, honestly, I came up with 12 different ways you could've kept it from me and this one is pretty low on the..."
James felt a frigid hand clamp down on his shoulder. It was big enough to tear off his arm, familiar fingertips imprinting against his bone and thick veins throbbing against his skin.
"James," a deep voice sneered, the bass waking spiders in his chest. "Your payment's late. Again."
The hand yanked him onto his feet, turning him around to face the man he'd been searching for. James was tall, but the man towered and [his muscles were the size of boulders], exposed in his fur skin vest. His eyes were pure, hungry malice, burning into James like hot coal. []
"No! Missile, I have it. I have it. I just ran into some complications."
His attention drifted over to said complications. Bear, Missile's right hand man, was dragging Mercy toward their wagon with his hand covering her mouth. She yanked at the man's blonde beard, kicking at his thighs, but she had the same impact as the flies buzzing around the skinned rabbit hat on Bear's head.
"That right? So, where's it?"
James's bronze eyes snapped back to Missile.
"Here. Somewhere. I dropped it, just let me find it."
Missile gripped at James' collar, lifting him off his feet. "James," the burly man sneered again, holding the final 's' longer than necessary, "How's the mom?"
"This morning, she got out of bed for the first time in weeks."
"For what?"
"To, you know, to see me off to the ball," James clamped his hands over Missile's, his distance from the ground growing further.
"Mm. D'you kiss her goodbye?"
"...Yes, I--Of course, but, this money will really help--"
"That ring would've helped you get your money. Guess everybody's a loser," he threw James on the ground, hard enough to send him rolling. "Toss him in the cart, Bear."
Blood welled in his mouth. He spit, swiping snow out of his hair.
"No...it's there! I did everything you asked, I swear! Including getting the ring," he scrambled to his feet, chasing after Missile as he moved toward the woods, "A deal is a deal!"
Suddenly, his vision was shot, white and grainy as he doubled over. Instinctively, he clutched his left side, as soon as he felt the blade leave. The earth shook under his feet. This couldn't be real. He raised his hand to his face, a bold mistake.
Red.
His surroundings fell away in a blur, abandoning him in a white void of hot pain.
Everything stung, everything screamed. He'd done everything right, and now he was here: Trembling, pitiful, his tears and blood spilling onto the pure, white snow, as he surrendered onto all fours.
Bear wiped his knife on his hat, kicking James in the stomach, "Oya. Get up."
"Woah, Bear. Give him a minute," [but Missile's voice held no sympathy].
James shook, knowing what was expected of him. Knowing he had been taught to pop back up, to pounce at their every whim.
"Some son you are." Missile spat in the snow beside the boy's head.
James gradually found his footing. He was still wobbling in the snow, still hunched over from searing pain, when Missile shoved him back down with a tap to his shoulder.
The man crouched down, eyeing James like dead meat.
"James, James, James," Missile chuckled, his baritone like a rumble of thunder. "I've taught you well. But, let me teach you one last thing, boy."
With the force of an iron hammer, Missile stamped his foot on James' chest, blowing the air out of his lungs. He pressed until he'd secured a dangerous amount of pressure on the boy's airways, then pressed harder. Darkness encroached. James was pretty sure he was clawing at Missile's shoe, but his arms went numb and his heart began to slow, so nothing around him was certain. Eventually, everything disappeared. But, taking a final, shallow breath, he heard one last thing.
"A deal is a deal. 'Til it isn't."
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