storm winds will follow

Chapter three - Motion

The worker's district was as packed and stinking as it had ever been, but it was the advantage Gwendolyn had here. She kept her head low, walked hunched, as she made her way to the tiny boarding house that she had been renting a room from. She did some work, here or there, where she could get it. Unloaded carts, transcribed letters for those who could not read or write themselves. It was enough to survive.

Inside stank even worse than the street, but it was warm, at least. Gwen rested for a moment, until blood returned to her extremities. As the most northern kingdom, Fenris was always cold, but the winter had been long and hard this year. it had taken well into may to finally remove the bodies frozen to the cobblestone where they had done their last breath. It was still may, late may.

Curious, she thought, as she shoved her meager belongings into her pack. She would be 24 in a few weeks.

Gwendolyn did not own much, only a spare belt, a short knife and a quill and book. Her ink had run out many weeks ago, but the prices were downright criminal at the moment, since the trade routes from Cegoris, where the tar black liquid was produced, had been under attack by rebel factions and bandits drawn out of their usual hiding spots by the aforementioned hard winter. She had made do by holding small wood splinters into the flame and writing with the small burnt ends once they had cooled down.

It did not bring her joy to write like this, but it did the trick. She left the key on the side table, then snuck out as quietly as she could, not glancing back, back into the crisp darkness. She would have to dare, if she wanted to get away, and she had set her sights on the stables of the south side.

The southern market was where the traders parked their wagons, they had strong, swift horses, which they watched over themselves. No easy target to be certain, and Gwen was no horse thief, she had never even ridden one before... but she was hopeful... hopeful...

What a treacherous feeling.

Gwendolyn sought the shadows around her, quiet in a night that was anything but. The more she approached the southern market, the more nervous she became. The crowd thinned the closer she came to her destination. Her heart hammered against her battered ribs. In Morvitzka they hanged convicted horse thieves...

Finally it became quiet. The squalor she was accustomed to turned to attractive stone buildings with wooden beamed rooves and sculpted doorways. She crept up the steps. From here she could see the stables. There was a light inside. She waited, and counted the lanterns that bobbed by lazily. Two... three...

After thirty minutes her body felt numb from the cold but she felt... ready. As quietly as she could she stood from her position, bones creaking in protest. The second lantern disappeared behind a corner. She rushed over to the stable on quiet soles, and ducked inside, stepping behind the doorway. There was a man sleeping against the back wall, but according to his loud snoring, he would not be a threat to her unless she woke him. Gwen turned to the closest box to her. A brown mare dozed in the corner. Perfect.

With shaking fingers, Gwen unlatched the gate and greeted the mare with a soft "Shhhh", then she untied the horse, who mercifully obeyed her desperate plea. The next problem was how to get onto the horse's back... Gwen stepped atop a small ledge at the edge of the box.

The room was quiet.

"What do you think you're doing, young lady?"
Her blood froze, but if she played this right, she could weasel her way out of this.
"I was just saying hello to the horses... My father used to have some and I missed it..."

Judging by the spear pressed against her neck, the trader did not buy it one bit.
"And why'd you untie her then?"
Thinking quickly, and keenly aware of the consequences, Gwen retorted:
"The rope seemed a bit short to me. I just felt bad for her.",
Doing her best to sound innocent.