Mercy snapped the reins, sending them deep into the woods. After their escape, the air was just too thick to speak. Mercy's heart beat slow, too slow, dead weight in her stomach, and she couldn't shake the tension on her face. It made James sore just from looking at her. The moment replayed in her head, [Missile banging at the door. It made her own head pound, aching and pulsing.]
Next to her, James's head had never been clearer. He'd placed the lantern on a stand in the front, freeing up his hand to massage his wound. All his energy either went to his breathing or star gazing.
In the middle of the woods, the stars were much brighter. In fact, everything was coated in this delicate magic that made him breathe easy. The air was calmer, [water babbled along their path, young like the night itself], and only distant howling dared to interrupt the quiet, but even that rode on the wind like chimes in a lullaby.
James watched the stars, noting the familiar clusters. [He spotted, Davietha, the troll, and Serapearce, an angel. He kept looking, squinting when he noticed Mabell to his left, which always sat high, marking true west.]
In their haste to escape, James hadn't even stopped to notice.
"You don't know where you're going," the boy muttered.
"Yes, I do," Mercy shot back, "I'll have you know that my sense of direction is fantastic."
"Oh yeah? Which direction are we going right now?" James sat up, eyeing Mercy as she tensed.
His eyes fell to her lips, seeing them curl into a pout.
'What a stupid question,' thought Mercy. "Forward, obviously."
James smirked, but wiped it away with his hand, looking toward Mabell.
"We're going South."
"Sure, that's what I meant. South." Mercy tossed her shoulders confidently, before quietly adding, "Whatever the hell that means."
"It means I should probably take the reins," James tried reaching over for them, but Mercy pulled away.
"No! I got it. Just tell me which way to go."
James frowned, but he didn't have the strength to do much beyond that.
"Fine," he pointed toward the fairy shaped cluster, "Just stay close to that group of stars. Missile and his buddy were from Vevon, which is in the Northeast region, a straight diagonal from Lenoria. My best guess is that's probably the direction they were taking us, so to go home we just have to head southwest."
James mirrored the way Mercy was holding the reins, giving a demonstration of just how much turn was needed to head slightly west.
"Pull that left strap until your wrist is touching your waist."
"I don't need you to teach me how to steer," but Mercy did as instructed.
"Okay, stop," James slid over on the bench, grabbing her left hand to guide the strap forward. "That's perfect."
He closed the distance, his side against Mercy's as he continued to readjust their direction, blabbing the whole time. [She blew a frustrated puff of air between her lips], not that James was paying attention. The last thing she wanted was him towering over her.
Her directional skills may not have been the best, but her intuition hadn't killed her yet.
The girl opened her mouth to protest, "James, I--Oh."
She shut it immediately as James wrapped his arm around her, realizing how cold she'd been. He put a hand over each of hers.
Behind her, the boy's heart beat in a steady, gentle pattern, vastly different from Mercy's, and so she synced her breathing accordingly. When his chest rose, she curled in, absorbing the warmth, and when it fell, her body sank with it. Slowly, her features unwound as the tension subsided. All her focus was on James's rise and fall.
She stopped listening to him speak and just leaned in. What she didn't realize is that he had stopped talking a while ago.
Neither one cared to move. James saw this as a personal benefit, too. Not only was he warm, but he also had control of the reins, certain Mercy was going to fall asleep.
And Mercy had, for a moment. She batted her eyelashes open, leaning forward to put some space between them.
"Are we going the right way?"
James felt an odd twist in his stomach. 'That shitty soup.'
"Yeah, uh huh. So, just stay like this," James removed his hands and slid back over to his side of the wagon.
Mercy watched him go, the warmth going with him. She shivered, cold again, but she knew that's all she missed.
After a brief silence, [she worked up the courage to ask something that had plagued her for a while.]
"What were you going to do with the money they gave you?"
James sighed, mindlessly running his thumb along the seam that held his side together. "Doesn't matter."
"Seemed to matter a lot to you yesterday," she managed to send a small smile his way, "Come on, it doesn't hurt to share. I want to know."
James squirmed, but finally caved. "My mother is sick. It was for her."
Mercy inhaled sharply, squeezing the reins.
"For a doctor?"
"No," James shook his head. "There's no doctor that can save her now. Not that we didn't throw all the money we had at finding one."
He glanced up at the sky, constellations blinking. A sight this clear was rare.
"It'd been her dream to go for a nice picnic. Just one nice, long picnic out in the countryside. She'd seen this huge, flowery pink gown in some shop and new picnic blankets in another. It's all she talks about now," his voice wavered, and he paused.
He cleared his throat, but still didn't continue. His green eyes fell down to his empty palms and he felt like he was being rattled for all he was worth.
"I wanted," his hands curled into fists, his throat stuck again, "I wanted to make that happen for her. I wanted it to be the nicest day of her whole life. But, you know, we don't have a lot of time left together. And since we—since I wasn't bringing money into the shop as frequently, I decided to try and get money a quicker way. I met Missile and Bear at an underground bar. They gave me a few odd jobs in exchange for cash."
He waved his hand, "And, you just about know the rest."
Mercy nodded, keeping her eyes on the forest path.
"I really let her down."
Mercy stayed silent, unsure of how to comfort him. James writhed with discomfort, his moment of honesty turning him into a fish out of water. He turned his focus to Mercy's hands, to make sure she didn't lose control of the horse.
"And you?"
"What about me?"
"What were you going to do with the money you got from the ring?"
"Oh, um," Mercy shrugged. "I don't know."
James cocked his brow, [sensing more terrible acting coming his way].
"You don't know?"
"I mean my reason isn't anything sentimental like yours. Guess I've just always been a bad apple."
Something about that just didn't add up.
"You? A bad apple? Ha, ha," he said dryly.
He glanced at the dried blood stain on her ragged dress, the thread on the end flying everywhere. He ran a finger along his stitch.
After a pause, he spoke up again, "You know, if you keep giving away parts of your dress, you're not going to have any left."
Mercy steered the reins silently. The wagon went over a large stump, shaking James roughly. As the wagon hurdled over it, he slid and slammed his wound right into the side of the front bench.
"Oops," Mercy tugged the reins and frowned. "Woah, there. Are you okay?"
James checked his wound. It throbbed, but was still in one piece. "All good."
"I was talking to the horse."
She climbed out, rounding the front of the wagon, although they both knew the horse had taken the least amount of damage.
"Did you do that on purpose?"
Mercy just shrugged, giving the horse a good scratch. "Told you, bad apple."
James glared at her, grabbing the lantern. He decided to stretch his legs and get out too, although he planned on checking something important.
Crouching, he moved around the wagon, shining the lantern over the wheels. Just as he feared, [the back left one was cracked]. He gazed at the sky, pitch black now.
"Mercy!" he called as he rose, "Your little stunt cost us our ride."
Mercy came over, "What do you mean?"
He motioned the lantern toward the wheel, metal squeaking. Her small face twisted, before unraveling with an exasperated sigh.
"Just my luck."
The wind swept between them as they examined the wheel. Gradually, it died, but shrill howling took its place. The horse bucked and whined. Mercy rushed over, trying to calm him down, but he beat his hooves on the snow, ready to break for it. She jumped in front of him, trying to hold the reins and do whatever she could to ease him.
"Steady. Steady, boy."
James placed down the lantern, "Mercy?"
He watched the horse prance in place, kicking its legs before buckling, only to repeat. James reached for Mercy, pulling her away. They stumbled back. James cradled her head against him, preparing for impact. The reins slipped through her fingers and she watched, helplessly, as the horse charged off, leaving them laying in the snow.
Mercy sat up quickly, the howling growing louder. Chills creeped and crawled down her spine. [She jumped to her feet, snow flying up from under her.]
"We've got to get out of here."
James eased onto his feet after her, holding her arms gently.
"Stop."
[Behind him, she swore she saw glowing, red eyes in the distance, with large, ghostly white teeth barred. Then, came a growl that shot her nerves. All that breathing she'd done? A blip in the pond, as the tension swallowed her features once more.]
"James! James, we have to go!"
Her legs were bent, ready to sprint with no clear direction. Anywhere was better than frozen, right here. But James didn't move and he refused to let her go, brushing his hands up to her shoulders and stepping closer.
"You're worse than the horse," he teased.
Instead of laughing, she knocked his hands away, her gaze stern. "I'm not scared."
"I didn't say you were."
The growling got louder and Mercy's stern look melted into something softer, more fragile. She flinched, her back now against James as her eyes shot through the forest, the sound of crunching in the snow too close now. Something was definitely coming. In fact, it was already here.
James took a moment, green-eyed gaze slow in its surveillance. Whatever was coming was a good distance to their right, so that was out of the question. Guiding her by the hip, he went forward.
In front of them, smoke rose over the trees. His eyes followed it down, into the woods, where he could see a faint light. Even better, he took a deep breath and smelled something delicious.
He grabbed Mercy's hand, holding tightly, both of them continuing forward. As he went, James kept close to the footsteps that the horse had left in the snow.
"Keep up."
Write a comment ...