There was something almost frightening, and at the very least, startling, about blinking her eyes and finding herself in a strange place without knowing how she'd gotten there. The air was cool and damp, but not bitterly cold, beneath a heavy, overcast sky that dropped its laden clouds over the hilltops and filled the valleys with pale mist. The rhythmic lullaby of clopping hooves, and the sway of Jack's broad back beneath her, had lulled her to sleep in the saddle more than once since departing the Forsaken Inn. But there was no peace, no respite to be found in slumber, for her dreams were nothing but nightmares. Terrible visions of mountains collapsing, tremendous waves of falling stone and soil sweeping over everything while the earth shuddered and bucked beneath her feet, and her screams mingled with those of others being buried alive.
The man riding beside her turned to regard her quietly as her head snapped up. She blinked a few times, looking about with listless curiosity. "Where are we?" she murmured in a thin, wispy voice.
"Day or so out from the inn," replied the man, a broad-shouldered giant with rust-colored hair and a travel-stained cloak about his frame. "Don't you worry none about where we are. I'm taking you home, and I'll get you there in one piece. You just rest. If you can."
"I cannot rest," she whispered, turning her shadowed blue eyes to the land about them. Bleak, brown hills and crumbled ruins dotted the landscape. The air smelled faintly of spring, but the earth had not begun to waken just yet.
A long silence followed, wherein the man studied her now and then with quick, careful glances. The horses plodded on, and the miles slowly passed.
At last, he cleared his throat gruffly and spoke again. "I could give you something to help you sleep when we stop for the night, if you like."
"If you think it best," she replied softly.
"Have you eaten the bread I gave you?"
She glanced down then, as if this were some new bit of information that surprised her. And in her left hand, a hunk of bread was indeed clutched, crushed into a tight ball in the hollow of her palm. How long had it been there? "Not yet," she said.
"Eat it, Brynleigh," the man ordered, though his voice was gentle.
"...I am not hungry," she answered.
"I didn't ask if you were hungry," he countered, his tone still careful, though his words grew firm. "You need to eat. I'll not sit by and watch you waste away."
Her lips parted, as if preparing another argument, but no words came forth. Rather, a heavy sigh filled her chest, and was exhaled deeply, while her gaze remained averted from the man. Whatever objection she held was kept silent for the moment, and she brought the lump of bread to her lips and took a small bite.
"That-a-girl," said the man, his voice rimmed with a smile. "Just think of home. All that wide, open space. Think of how you'll feel when you see it again. Hmm? When we come down out of the hills with the river, and you get to step onto the grassy plains and you can see all the way to the other side of the world. Hmm?" He kept glancing over at her, hoping that his words would spark something, some flicker of hope. Anything.
For the first time that day, she turned and held him directly with her gaze. Her expression was frightening to behold; a calm, empty, hollow mask. "I think that I go home to die, Aldwyn."
The man's hands jerked slightly. He looked at her for a moment, before turning and staring forward into the grey afternoon. His rough brow furrowed into a deep frown, and a thick silence fell between them until he broke it again at length.
"Not while I'm around."
