The Source: Observer Chronicles, Book 3

Chapter 20: Contempt

At Brenda's farmhouse, the air was still, tense; with little said, and when it was, it was always on the same thing: Talking about who would read next to Eve. That seemed to be the only thing they would communicate to each other about as if it had become their only purpose.

They were fighting among themselves in the quiet, with glaring eyes looking upon each other.

In the barn, Drage, within his own company, elevated a response from Darryl. After all his hard work he denied him to look for Reetho, even though it had only been less than seventy-two hours. That didn't change him worrying about Reetho though, feeling lost and out of place without him at his side, a feeling he knew he could not replace with anybody else.

Brenda called as she went outside, "Drage, dinner is ready."

"Thank you but I'm not hungry," he said slouched, leaning on the door of the barn.

"OK, I will leave some aside if you are later."

"Thanks," replied Drage. He had his hand on something the whole time Brenda was there, and as soon as she left, he pulled off the straw that was hiding it; quickly, he put on his black trench coat Brenda had bought them all for finishing the house for her, then he picked up the bag that had little clumps of straw still on.

"Time to go," he told himself. He rushed as fast as his legs could carry him, hoping there would be a sign, any sign, that Reetho were still alive out there.

It was dark, Drage's feet, tired, but he was not going to rest until he found something. The roads by now all looked the same. Straight then windy, and suffocated with green fields on either side; miles and miles it went on like this. Is there any hope, he thought. He couldn't catch his breath, his heart racing. Then it happened, a pain he had never had in his young life hit at his neck. Clutching it, he fell to the floor not being able to carry himself. His hands clenched tight, like he was trying to squeeze out the problem.