Displaced

Chapter 125

Air worked itself in and out of Mizuko's lungs in shuddering gasps and heaves. Her legs wobbled like gelatin, and her head felt like it was going to split open from the pounding sensation within her skull. Her chest felt like it was on fire.

Mizuko staggered to a stop by the half-decayed remains of a small tree and lowered herself onto the felled trunk. Living trees were a rare find on the plains that made up much of north-central Drayhadal. The winds grew quite harsh when storms swept through, and the harshest gusts found within had the strength to uproot or downright snap the trunks of any trees foolish enough to grow anywhere on these plains outside the most ideal, sturdy, and nutritious ground. This tree was one of those foolish ones, though it had survived longer than most, long enough to grow thick enough that its trunk could be used as a seat in a pinch. Still, like all the others in the end, it had overreached and paid the ultimate price.

Her body trembling as feeling slowly seeped back into her numb limbs, Mizuko felt a kinship with this tree; it seemed that she, too, had overreached. Though revitalized to the point where she felt as she remembered feeling in her early seventies, her body was still over a hundred years old. There were limits to how hard and long she could push her body, and she had overestimated how long it would take for her to reach those limits. In just a few hours, she'd already driven herself to the point where she felt like she could barely move, and she could feel exhaustion lurking like a stalking predator just out of her vision.

Still, what choice did she have? The time when the guards surrounding the manor where she'd lived since coming to this world would wake up from their involuntary sleep fairly soon. She and Vura had to get as far away as they could before then.

Speaking of Vura, the comely elf stood to her side with a massive pack filled with food and other supplies on her back and an expression of concern on her face. Though covered in sweat, her breath was steady and strong. All those days spent on her feet running about the manor to finish some chore or fulfill one of Mizuko's selfish requests had done her good.

"Madam, allow me to carry you!" the girl desperately pleaded once again. "I fear you will not last like this! You must preserve yourself!"

"I will be fine in a moment," Mizuko replied, her words coming in bits and pieces as she tried to get her breathing under control. Needless to say, her delivery betrayed the lie that was her claim.

"Please, Madam Mizuko! Look!" She reached out and grabbed Mizuko's hand and sandwiched it between her palms. Vura's hands radiated a pleasant warmth. "See how cold you are? You must stop this!"

"It's not time for that yet. You'll be too tired when Pyria's troops show up later."

"I will manage; you are lighter than you realize. Otherwise, we'll have to slow down too much and we'll be found too quickly."

Mizuko sighed. Being carried around reminded her of her final years on Earth, where she'd been too weak to walk and had needed to be wheeled or carried anytime she needed to leave her bed—even just to use the facilities. Stubbornly, and perhaps stupidly, she'd wanted to avoid feeling that helplessness again for as long as possible. Right now, however, she had lacked the luxury for stubbornness nor stupidity.

"If we must, then I will allow it," she reluctantly conceded.

So much of her behavior these days seemed driven by aversions to the experiences of her final years. This entire escapade was a perfect example. Her final years had seen her confined by her own failing body to her family home or the local hospital, and that was it. A feeling of being trapped had grown inside her over the years to the point where it made her want to cry, but there'd been nothing to be done about it. Her body would not permit any sort of travel.