Wherever I Am

Chapter 4

They came in when the storm's fury was at its zenith, silhouetted by a bright lightning flash. They jumped at the crash of thunder that came immediately.

He was dark-haired and only a few inches over five foot, wearing a muddy tunic and ragged pants plastered to his skinny frame. He was a few years older than me, as was his wife, though she was bent over, obviously in pain. A girl, maybe six, held his hand as they stood at the edge of the opening. Her dress, tunic, or whatever it was supposed to be, was in tatters and too small, clinging wetly to her bony frame. Her dark eyes, almost hidden by the hair plastered to her head, seemed to take in everything. The wife had rags wrapped around her feet, but the other two were barefoot. All of them had a native Indian look, or maybe Oriental. What was Lord Boian going to say about this?

Ellie waved them in before Lord Boian noticed, pointing to a dry area away from us, and he groaned when he saw them.

"Next thing, you'll be feeding them," he muttered.

"They do look like they could use some food. Jerky and crackers, or should I heat some stew?"

"Whatever you wish, Maid Elexus," the knight said with a sigh. He had at least seemed happier when we changed into more modest clothes that better represented our rank, whatever that was.

Hers was a gauzy long t-shirt...chemise, she called it...under an embroidered and beaded cream-colored long blouse and a brown flowing split skirt that went to her ankles. A colorful loosely woven beaded scarf finished it off, though she tied hers like a sash from her shoulder opposite to her waist. Mine consisted of loose-fitting brown and white striped billowing trousers tied at the waist, a long puffy shirt that went down past my hips, and a colorful crimson vest with lots of patterned beadwork that was similar but different to Boian's. We both had leather shoes but stuck with our running shoes for now.

Ellie had a pot of water sitting on the coals within a couple of minutes. I felt relief that she didn't fire up the gas stove. Gas looked to be in short supply here. Lord Boian started his fire with flint and steel.

"I'm going to shred some jerky and put it into the stew," Ellie said as she ripped open the top of the freeze-dried beef stew package. Ten minutes later, she borrowed my titanium bowl and filled it and hers with stew, took them over along with our titanium sporks, and quietly talked with them before they bowed low to her. She came back, a huge grin on her face.

"They seem quite happy for the food," she said and got a grunt from Lord Boian. She sat next to me and lowered her voice. "I don't get any of this. They look Oriental and not like any Native American I've seen. Our friendly neighborhood knight dresses like he's from the steppes but looks more British or Norse. We can understand each other, though I'm not sure I'm speaking English, even to you right now."

I blinked at her. Of course we were...or were we? I hadn't paid that much attention, but she might be right. It seemed strange. I glanced back at the new arrivals. The man spooned sporkfuls of stew into each of their mouths, one at a time, after blowing the stew cooler. Each of them squatting, the girl staring back at him, though heedless or not caring that her tunic wasn't covering what it should. Ellie's sigh told me she'd seen it, too.

The woman was seriously in pain, though seemed to eat well enough when her turn came, though when her husband moved to the second bowl, she waved away the spork. He continued with himself and the girl, occasionally taking an additional bite as she seemed to slow down. Her eyes never strayed from Ellie and me while she ate.

He said something to the girl, and she took the bowls and sporks to where the deluge was beginning to slacken and rinsed them, getting herself soaked again in the process. She returned to her father, then turned and dropped to her knees, holding the bowl and utensils out at arm's length.