The Bounty Hunter

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

The sun stretched its weak rays across the horizon, tentatively reaching out through the streets and wrapping them around the shadows which still loitered in the corners of the buildings, lonely remnants of the previous night. Everything was a silvery grey until the early dawn began to blush rosy pink, like the slight tint of colour in a slowly opening flower and the world began to breathe once more. Safita rubbed the tiredness from her eyes as she gazed out over the town below her, cobbles beginning to shimmer in the early morning sunlight as sunbeams strolled languorously through her window, caressing her tousled hair. She turned away from the window, encased in the winter’s frost as if it had pressed itself up in its efforts to reach her, and looked around the empty room. Her things were packed up and, too soon, she would have to leave its comfort for the chill outside which had set in permanently while she was ill. She brushed and braided her hair, splashed her face with the water Rinn had brought up for her and then, drawing her cloak tightly around her shoulders, headed downstairs to where Finred was waiting for her. “How much is it?” she asked him under her breath as he stood up from the stool where he had been sitting.

“It’s all taken care of,” he said dismissively, refusing to brook any argument on the matter and shouldering his pack before heading out of the door; it was filled with the supplies that they had bought the previous day, enough for them to travel to Scaera. They headed out into the chilly morning and began to walk through the sleepy city, invigorated by their week long rest and the playful nip of the air, small wisps of fog still clinging to the ground as if they were trying to hide from the eyes of the two travellers and yet twining cheekily around their ankles like the needy cats which prowled the streets of the Outland cities. As they strolled through the streets the town slowly began to awaken, shutters, doors and windows opening cautiously, their bangs rippling down the rows of buildings as the shouts and calls of Sicara’s inhabitants began to fly through the air like well aimed arrows, drifting slowly down to street level like colourful strips of cloth, draping themselves lethargically around everything and settling delicately over the silence which stretched out between Finred and Safita.

Their shelter from the biting wind disappeared almost as soon as they left Sicara, the cold air whistling through the trees which surrounded them, hurtling towards the two small people like a predator intent on seeking them out. It nibbled at their exposed skin, digging its teeth in and turning their skin red as if it had drawn blood. Pressing on, they tucked their heads deeper and deeper into their cloaks before Finred drew the gloves he had purchased out of his pack and pulled them on, offering another pair to Safita. Too cold to bother arguing with him she accepted them gratefully, pulling them on swiftly over her frozen hands and tucking them back under her cloak before continuing to push on against the bitter breeze.

Evening fell early that night, darkness wrapping itself around them and strangling the light of the cold stars above them; when they could no longer see the path beneath the feet and had lost all sense of time they stopped, making camp beside a fallen tree trunk and curling up as small as possible as they tried to stay warm. In the darkness Safita groped through her pack for two stones she had picked up earlier that afternoon with which she could start a fire, taking much longer than normal. Eventually however she managed to start a small spark going, cupping it gently in her hands as it ate away at the kindling Finred had set up, causing the shadows to flicker and dance while small insects darted amongst them. Just like the moths which drew near Finred and Safita leaned in towards the tiny fire, holding their hands near it as they ate, unable to resist the siren call of its warmth. Wracked by shivers Safita was surprised to feel a heavy arm around her shoulders as Finred pulled her close to him, holding her against his chest and warming her up.

Safita was soft in Finred’s arms, curled up astoundingly small with her legs tucked into her chest and her back pressed against his chest; although they were both wearing their cloaks Finred couldn’t help but think about how close they were – this would never have happened when they first set out on their journey. Her hair tickled his nostrils, filling them with a fragrant scent which reminded him of the sweet oranges he used to eat when he was younger and their fresh taste which hung around the orange trees at the end of the gardens, their overhanging branches laden with the glowing orange fruits and forming a shady arch through which Finred used to walk almost every day, occasionally reaching up to pinch one from the heavy branches; he had always looked around cautiously to make sure nobody saw him despite knowing that no one would ever make a move to stop him. There was something about convincing himself that he might get into trouble for what he was doing which made his childish games even more thrilling. In fact, it was more than likely that he would have got in trouble for it – after all the lectures he received about setting examples and leading it would make sense to receive another for doing something like that. Arthan would have laughed then when he saw his brother being scolded; he had never taken his brother down there though – the orangery was his special place and Arthan wouldn’t appreciate it as much as Finred did.