Charge

Chapter 3 - The Witch in the Woods - Part 2

The last thing I remember is lying on my back and suddenly I'm waking up from a small, dreamless sleep. My body aches and my head throbs violently, but I force myself to sit up nonetheless. It's quiet, almost eerily so. For a second I consider just laying back down, until I remember why it was I didn't want to close my eyes. My heart thumps as I look quickly over to Cal, expecting him to be holding a rock over my head or his shirt ready to smother me. But instead, he lies uncomfortably on his side across the camp, dormant. Snoring. I let out a breath of relief, running my fingers through my dishevelled hair. The fire has gone out but a dusting of orange magic remains in the air over the ashes. With a quick flick of the wrist, I bring the ashes back to life in a flurry of heat and flames. I don't think I'll ever get tired of that. The sun is only just peeking over the horizon, painting the swamp with a subtle golden glow. Cal rolls over onto his back, groaning quietly as he pushes himself into an upright position.
        "Gods, how long was I out?" he murmurs groggily. "Is that the sun?" in moments Cal has pulled himself onto his feet with the same strange elegance he embodies in all his movements.
        "It's only just beginning to rise," I reply, standing up with much less grace. My whole body feels sore and heavy from sleeping on the dirt, but thankful for the rest.
        "We should get going," I nod, reaching out to the freshly born flames and snuffing them out with a wave of my fingertips. "We're not far off," Cal squints, eyes adjusting to the early dawn light as he gathers his bearings. "This way,"

        Cal's definition of 'not far off' must be wildly different to mine, the sun now sitting in the middle of the sky and no end in sight. My boots are caked in mud and I don't imagine the stench leaving the leather now that it's settled. I paid good silver for these boots, what a waste. Cal walks ahead, clearly impatient, whilst I struggle to keep pace. Over the years I've been able to rely on my strength over stamina, the most distance being from one side of port to another or simply the length of my ship. My chest heaves at the thought of my ship - The Scarlet Dread - and what's surely become of her. I imagine it's already been torn for parts, used to make supplies for the Empire. A sick sensation fills my stomach - the wood of my ship used to make benches for Imperial forces to sit their arses on. Unforgivable.

        Midday turns to evening and my body is craving any kind of sustenance. It's torturous how much moisture is in the air, my throat dry and pleading for water. Even Cal seems to be struggling, taking heavier steps and breathing short, ragged breaths. My white shirt is stained with a mixture of dirt and dried blood, sweat making it cling to my skin. Maybe I should've just stayed in that cell.
        "Finally," Cal gasps, his steps coming to a halt. Beyond him is a small clearing, shielded by the wide branches of the swamp. A wooden house stands in the centre, a myriad of plants and flowers decorating the walls and posts. Candlelight filters through the windows and beneath the large front door, the scent of smoked meat and herbs gnawing at my stomach. Cal takes a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms against his shirt before tidying his hair into a ponytail at the base of his neck. I subconsciously go to fix my hair, gathering it into a bun to try and hide the mess. Cal doesn't approach the house in the woods, though, standing firmly in place.
        "What's wrong?" I ask, desperate to get inside and if I'm lucky, get my hands on some of that smoked meat.
        "Nothing, nothing," he murmurs, but his fingers betray him, fiddling on the hem of his pockets nervously.
        "Then let's go," I take charge, walking down the cragged stone path and minding the patches of moss. I smirk briefly as Cal follows me, finally feeling in control even if just for a moment.

        Shrubs of lilacs sit in wicker baskets on either side of the door. In the middle sits an ornate, golden door knocker with engravings of vines twisting around the metal. Cal and I share a look of uncertainty before he reaches for the handle, knocking it against the door with three heavy thumps. At first, nothing happens.
        "Should we knock again?" I ask awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other.
        "No, be patient," Cal hisses. "If you're capable,"
        "I'm more than capable of being patient,"
        "Every action you've made since I've met you would suggest otherwise,"
        "Listen here you little sh*t-" All of a sudden the door shoots open, throwing my words back into my throat.
        "By the Gods, alive and gone... Cal?"
        "Hey, Cordelia... how've you been?"