Lost trust

Travelling isn't as Fun as in the Movies

Sorry for the slow updates but I'm very preoccupied with school and I try to write as often as I can :)

Slight TW for this chapter : stabbing, blood

If last night was dreadful, then I wouldn't even know how to describe the pain I'm feeling right now. My feet drag on the dusty brown road, leaving marks behind. My hands are sore from pulling my suitcase all day. I lick my lips and swallow painfully, blinking away the dust from my eyes. Heather looks at me with her mouth open, too tired to even speak.

The sun beats down on us, sending pulsing rays of heat onto our heads and making them feel heavier than they need to.

I had envisioned meeting other travellers with interesting stories to tell, and a few side adventures here and now.

This, however, was far from a fairy tale. We've been walking for so long I don't know whether it's been hours, days or weeks. I lost track of where we were going ages ago. At this point, we're just wandering around in the heat. What I assume to be an ancient structure juts out from the ground around us unevenly.

Was this the result of earthquakes, a battle or something even more ominous? I muse, gazing around glassy-eyed at the ruins.

Suddenly, my foot catches on something and I stumble. I look back to see a large stone, with the letter R engraved in it. I cock my head, distinctly remembering seeing that same symbol in Mortendia.

What is it doing here, in the middle of nowhere?
I'm pulled from my thoughts as Heather calls my name.

"Coming!" I reply, although my throat feels like it could tear from the strain.

However, even though I am in pain, I can't stop thinking about the strange symbol. I'm determined to find out what it means, however, I can't do that until we reach Emortentia.

"Do you have any water left?", Heather rasps when I catch up with her.

I drop my suitcase, sending it clattering to the ground, beyond caring for the welfare of the things inside it, and sit down next to it, legs crossed.
Opening it up, I squint my eyes to see its contents and grab my water bottle, greeted by a pitiful amount of water left in it. I sigh inwardly and give my water bottle to Heather. She takes it gratefully, gulping down the remains.

The rocky ground is starting to burn my thighs, so I get up wearily.

All of a sudden, the sound of hooves echoes in my ears. I stare into the distance blearily, the clip-clopping becoming louder and louder.

"Am I imagining things or do you hear a horse too?", I ask Heather as the worry starts creeping into my mind that I might be hallucinating. That would not be good, as it's a sign of severe dehydration and hunger.

"I also see two horses coming in our direction," she replies, pointing to the brown mare cantering towards us, a man with a cowboy hat on atop it. A white horse walks with them, however, it has no saddle on its back nor a bridle on its face.

The horse slows down as they approach us, shaking its head.

"Are you ladies in need of assistance?", he asks us in a thick accent.

His sun-bleached hair rests on his shoulder. His demeanour is relaxed and soothing. I don't know why, but I feel I trust him.

"Where are you going, sir?" Nonetheless, I'm not ready to just hop on a horse without any knowledge of who he is.

"Ah, no need for such formalities, kiddo. The name's Rye."

"And where are you going, Rye?" I'm tired, thirsty and not in the mood for pleasantries.