When Given a Lemon

Part 6

I've been trying to avoid being picked for one of the "hunting the enemy" assignments by volunteering for as many practical tasks around the camp as I could get my hands on. Then when they decided to walk around awarding soldiers the honor of possibly facing real danger, I made sure to volunteer for a chore that took me somewhere else. I've managed to lay low enough that the first few times soldiers were sent out I was not even within the camp. Instead I was out foraging or gathering firewood, careful to come back only after they had left.

Of course this would only work short term, there were only so many places I could hide without being accused of insubordination.

Lemon often came with me, when they weren't sent out on a separate task of their own. Since they had moved into my tent, my thoughts of those two soldiers being whipped to death had been given very little time to fill any space in my mind beyond ugly flashes when I try to sleep. I wish that I could un-experience that all together but unfortunately it would likely stay with me to my grave. Still, the constant –if not chaotic–distraction during my waking hours did me a lot of good.

I am trying to tie several branches onto the braided net that I had brought along. These plant fronds were the kind that the medics said could be brewed into tea and ingested or mixed into a paste to apply topically to help reduce swelling and calm people. Lemon was sitting down on a patch of fingerling moss with their legs splayed out, not even pretending to help me work. If anything, their presence was a detriment to my work; I had nearly tripped over them several times now.

“Can you move, or better yet help me?” I barked for what was probably the dozenth time. They only let their head loll to one side as if they were falling asleep, which they absolutely weren't! 

Each time I groaned or hrmphed at them the most I received back was a laugh in response. I tried not to glare at them, deciding that acknowledgement of their presence at all was only encouraging them. That's the most I could do, not wanting to provoke them to the point of deciding I wasn't adequate company and wandering off. They were, after all, the only person these days that gave me the time of day. Mirch had avoided me since the encounter that got her into trouble. My two marching companions, Bill and Kipol, didn't go as far as avoiding me but they had both been sent out as part of the monster hunting unit so I've barely had a chance to see them.

Thinking of that assignment, wandering the mountainside in search of these arbitrary monsters that were wrecking all sorts of havoc, sounded asinine to me. Rather than waste all your energy searching for something you have no idea about – its appearance, temperament, how it moves or fights, whether it's actually even a monster – sounded like a phenomenal waste of energy. One that would be better used helping the villagers repair any damages caused by these ruffians and acting as local guardians until this unknown foe showed its face again.

Not that I wanted to be stuck guarding an old, useless village high up this mountain pass either. The air here was too thin, making me feel like I could never really catch my full breath.

I bundled the next pile of fronds into the small impromptu sled we had put together then went to another area of dense foliage to scour through there for anything worthwhile when I was startled to find an odd face peering back at me from behind some of the prickly leaves.

Caught off guard, I jumped back, “th-there’s a strange face!” Piquing Lemon's interest enough for them to get up to come over and have a look, they peered into the bushes but couldn't find anything.

“You're afraid of shadows,” they stated.

“I am not! It was definitely a face!” I rubbed my arms to pull more warmth into them while leveling a glare at my companion. “There was definitely something there, it could just as easily have scampered off before you went to look!”