The sky was covered with bleak grey clouds. Priya sat on a trembling front bench of an old wooden caravan, her head turned to her side and her vacant stare directed over a barren field. Some stray locks of her black hair were dancing in front of her face in the freezing wind. The horse pulling the caravan was old and lazy. So the speed was not that breath-taking. Norman, the one-eared hound, was sitting between Priya’s legs, half-observant half-asleep. Meanwhile Ginger, the auburn-furred hound, was padding briskly beside the horse.
So there she sat, on a small rocking bench, squeezed next to an old man who was holding the horse’s reins. They had traveled for a moon like this and he had barely said a word. He often just nodded and smiled warmly, or if he was irritated, he appeared simply indifferent. Yet one could tell he was the kind sort, silent, but steady like a fortress. His eyes were sad and knowing. Priya liked to think that he had chosen silence for he too had learnt that all the words in this world were vain in the end.
Her mind took her into the past. She heard Seia’s echoing voice, shouting at Thomas. ”I will tear out your heart!”. She had tried to push him back with all her strength, screaming. ”What is wrong with you!? He is a Watcher! How badly do you want to get in to Jail?!” Thomas, who had been struck down once already, had drawn his blade in self-defence. ”Apparently pretty bad. Could already have ’im if we wanted. An’ I know Red donnae like yur, queer bastard.” Seia had lifted her up and moved her aside. Bad things followed. Neither of them had listened to her desperate cries, until…. She shook the memory away, not wanting to think of what had followed.
Priya turned to look at the old man, eyeing his wind beaten features. She had approached the old traveler a moon ago, asking if he could take her away from Bree. She hadn’t bothered to ask where the man was heading, as she didn’t really care. Any place far enough, was good enough. The man had eyed her briefly, before replying simply, ”Yes.”, with a slow nod and without any questions or conditions. Priya had felt like he knew, like he had silently looked through her and understood her.
The old man had a son, who was in his mid-twenties, Elroy. Priya didn’t like him at all. He was arrogant and pompous. She couldn’t understand how someone so frustratingly annoying could be an offspring of such a kind man. She had explained to herself that the boy's mother must have been evil somehow, or perhaps the mother had tricked the old man, perhaps he hadn’t fathered Elroy at all.
They stopped as the old horse needed to drink. She hopped down from the bench, slung her backpack over her shoulder and glanced at the old man. ”I’ll go scout for some game.” She looked down at the two hounds who were peering expectantly up at her. She commanded firmly, ”Stay.”, before heading off toward the woods. Ginger sat in an instant taking a statue-like posture, but Norman seemed to hesitate, padding about nervously. Eventually he chose to obey her words and stay at the caravan, his eyes bent on the shrinking figure of Priya.
When she felt she was far enough from the small convoy, she stepped behind a tree and pressed her forehead against it with a sigh. She took a few deep breaths before throwing her arms around the tree and pressing her cheek against it’s bark. For a while she just stood there, hugging the tree like it would’ve been her only friend on Arda, and for what she knew - it was. Tears welled in her eyes and her grip around the tree tightened.
Eventually she turned around and laid her backpack on the ground. She loosened the strings, and pulled out her three knives. She held them in her hands and stared at them bleakly. One she had gotten from Alex as a Yuletide present. Another from Thomas, a returned gift. The third…from Seia.
Her mind took her even further in the past. ”What do I do with three knives, me of all people?” She had asked Seia. ”Perhaps you should take up throwing knives?” She heard his reply echoing inside her head. She had laughed at his suggestion. ”Me throwing knives, perhaps you should re-think that.”
She dropped Alex’s and Thomas’s knives on the ground and unsheathed the one that Seia had gave her. She took a few running steps forth and pitched the knife angrily towards a nearby tree. But the knife flew past the tree, and dove into a river behind it. Her eyes grew wide and she bolted after it, jumping into the icy river without any hesitation. She dug her fingers into it’s muddy bottom and started to desperately hunt down the knife. After a while of hysteric searching her fingers clutched around something sharp. She pulled the blade out of the river and gripped it’s hilt with her other hand. Four of her fingers were badly cut, blood pouring out of them. She stood there staring at the red fingers, blinking in disbelief. For some reason she couldn’t feel the pain, even though the cuts were clearly there.
Elroy had seen her from a distance and while closing in on her, he noted the blood. He sprinted to the river’s bank, yelling resentfully. ”What have you done again!?” She glanced at him irritably, her eyes blazing. ”Go away!” She clenched her bloody fingers into a fist and climbed out of the river. She started to walk away quickly, leaving a trail of blood blotches behind her on the grass. She didn’t want to give him the advantage of seeing her like this. Elroy sighed, frustrated. ”You are -insane-.” He ran after her. ”I don’t understand why father agreed to take you with us.” She turned around to face him, yelling angrily, ”Your father is ten times the man you are! You are arrogant! Smug! Vicious! I bet your mother was an Orc! Just leave me be and we both might survive the rest of the trip!” She turned around and took one step forth before fainting on her face in the cold wet grass.
