The four remains

Chapter 5

Time seemed to pass both quickly and slowly, everything in the world tangled in complexity. I glanced around, noticing how the light reflected differently, like tiny stars in the sky. My tears must have blurred my vision, creating this effect. Even shedding tears comes with a price these days.

I kept swinging my leg, hoping that if I forgot everything, the pain might leave. For a brief moment, the soft breeze brushed across my face, bringing a fleeting sense of calm. But I knew it wouldn't last. For once, I was certain of what was to come, and it wasn't something to look forward to.

The temporary tranquility never lasts. All I can do is survive. I swung my legs over the tree branch, letting them dangle in the air. Gripping the branch, I pushed myself off, hanging by my hands. Falling and getting hurt would be a waste of time. I found my footing and carefully released one hand, lowering it to grasp the thick trunk of the oak tree.

I climbed down, each step deliberate, my sweaty palms gripping the bark. When I was close enough to the ground, I jumped, only to find myself face-to-face with Nicolas. Before I could stop myself, reflexes took over.

"Oh... I-I'm sorry if this is the wrong time to talk. I'll go if you want..." he said, his voice filled with sympathy. He seemed more worried than scared. My sword was at his neck, my grip tight as fear battled control.

"You startled me," I said, keeping my voice firm, like my grip on the sword.

"I-I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..." he stammered.

"Stop. Stop apologizing." My words silenced him.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly. "We need to find the village. No time to waste. Get the tent."

He nodded and ran back to pack up, while I covered the campfire with cooling moss that suffocated the flames. Starting a fire here was risky, and we needed to move fast.

I sharpened my sword and tied the remaining logs together with a vine, crafting a makeshift rope. I handed Nicolas his dull sword.

"Here, prince charming. In case something happens, I need you on guard."

"I hope this means you're warming up..." Nicolas mumbled just loud enough to hear, taking the sword with a kind smile. I bit back a retort and moved swiftly, my steps light and deliberate.

Nicolas, on the other hand, was the opposite—clumsy and loud, with no skill for stealth. His princely attire was too bright, attracting unwanted attention from animals. The soldiers might be oblivious, but the creatures of the woods weren't. The dim light didn't bother me; my eyes were adjusted to the shadows. I moved cautiously, my sweaty palms ready to unsheath my sword at the slightest sign of danger.

We would find the village, just as we hoped. My father always said that karma helps those in their most desperate moments. So far, everything had been pure luck, and I was grateful.

As I lost myself in thought, Nicolas tripped, catching himself before he fell completely. "Be careful!" I scolded, noting the way his face held kindness, even in this dire situation.

His hand was cut, likely from the sword. He reached out to wipe the blood on a leaf, but I stopped him.

"STOP!" I yelled, swatting his hand away. He winced. "What happened!? Are you alright?" he asked, worried.

"You fool! Why would you touch that? It's poisonous!" I pointed to the Nightwish flower, its ivy green leaves marked with intricate patterns, its petals a stunning violet and indigo.

"It's beautiful..." he said, kneeling to admire it.

"Yes, but its pollen is deadly. One touch, and you'll need care we can't afford right now." I explained. He looked like a child caught stealing sweets, guilt all over his face.