WITHIN HIS REACH | garroth ro'meave *REWRITING*

CHAPTER ONE

    "HURRY UP!"  Claire called out impatiently, one hand gripping the reigns of the horse she was mounted on while the other hovered over her eyes in an attempt to block the rays of sun beaming down on her. The breeze blew gently, providing only a temporary relief from the heat that radiated off her body in waves. With an annoyed huff, Claire used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat that trickled down her forehead, growing more and more irritated.

"Sorry! Sorry! I'm here!" Erika smiled apologetically, slamming the door behind her as she struggled to put her comically stuffed backpack on. Claire had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes as the younger girl practically stumbled down the front steps.

"I thought you said the village was barely an hour away?" Claire frowned, holding out her hand for Erika to hold onto as she mounted their shared horse.

"It is!" Erika assured as she adjusted herself behind Claire. She smiled as she used a red ribbon to pull her short black hair into a small ponytail, "You know how mom gets though. She wouldn't let me leave without extra food."

Claire clicked her tongue to cue their horse to start moving and bit back the urge to complain—their food was sparse enough as it was. To let so much of it go to waste in this heat for a journey that wouldn't take more than half a day wasn't a luxary they could afford. However, Claire knew not to share her opinion on the matter. Erika never did quite like it when Claire questioned her mother—claimed it felt she was undermining Ruth's intelligence.

She wasn't though, or maybe she was. Claire couldn't say it was exactly rare for her to question Ruth's judgement. She figured they just held different beliefs, making it practically impossible for Claire to make any sense of Ruth's actions. Regardless, she never voiced to it the woman's face, not when she gave her a roof over her head and warm meals. Had it not been for Ruth, Claire figured she would've starved on the streets or fallen victim to the crimes committed by the depraved. Thanks to Ruth's kindness, if you could call it that, Claire knew how to get by own her own accord—through trading, farming, cooking—so that she'd never be that helpless again.

"What's the name of this village?" Claire spoke up at last, barely looking over her shoulder. From her peripheral she saw Erika squinting at their map.

Erika pondered for what felt like forever until she muttered, "Phoenix Drop? Or perhaps Phoenix Top?"

"You don't know?"

"I focused more on jotting the directions," Erika winced, "But it's surrounded by a huge wall so I doubt we'll miss it."

Sighing, Claire shut her mouth once more. Their dynamic had always been this way, with Erika's easy-going nature and Claire's "disgusting" attitude, as Ruth loved to call it. Claire partially blamed their differences on their three year age gap, a natural lapse in maturity. Mostly, she blamed it on their upbringing. Ruth had always been too quick to shelter Erika from the harsh truth of their reality, not that Claire could blame her, Erika was her only daughter. Claire was just a stray Ruth had decided to pick up along the way.

Once Claire reached the age of fifteen, Ruth had placed her in charge of what was essentially all the dirty work — slaughtering the farm animals, haggling with traders, defending their property against crooks who were a bit too ambitious. Meanwhile, Erika remained in the safety of their home, tending to the garden, doing their laundry, knitting them new items of clothing. Grateful for a place to sleep, Claire shrugged Erika's naivety off as long as she never got in the way of Claire's work.

However, crimes were at an all time high in their neighboring villages. It was just a matter of time before theirs was attacked, a risk that the family of three — mostly Claire— wasn't willing to take. Ruth believed herself to be a pacifist, a communicator, a faithful servant capable of talking a criminal out of their harmful ways. Having witnessed crimes first hand at a young age, Claire believed Ruth was delusional. She knew it was futile trying to talk to people whose first instinct was to kill.

Lost in her thoughts, Claire only realized they were nearing a wall when Erika gasped. Claire tugged on the reigns, bringing their horse to a stop while they were still hidden in the tree line. From afar, they watched fully armored guards pace the perimeter of the wall.

"Looks secure enough," Claire muttered, suspicion seeping into her bones.

"Might just be a good place to settle down." Erika whispered, and Claire didn't have to turn around to know the excitement was etched all over her young face.

Claire finally turned to look at Erika, "As I said before, we're only here to scout—"

"WE KNOW YOU'RE THERE. SHOW YOURSELVES!" A voice boomed from above the wall.

Claire cursed under her breath, whipping her head around to see guards with their swords drawn and arrows pointed directly at them. Claire quickly dismounted and helped Erika down, whispering, "Just follow my lead and keep your mouth shut. If they try anything, I'll distract them and you fucking run okay? Drop the backpack and whatever you do, don't stop until you make it back home." Before Erika could argue, Claire took her hand and the horse's reigns, cautiously leading them out of the tree line. 

"Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!" The voice demanded, his voice hostile and guttural, leaving no room for disobedience.

Erika and Claire swiftly reached into their holsters to pull out their knives and tossing them on the grass before kicking them aside. They stood in silence for what was probably only a minute before the gate was steadily reeled opened. Only one man came out, his stride strong and his head held high as he made his way towards them. Claire took a mental note of the black cross etched on his chest plate, unable to identify it's significance before he stopped just a few feet from them and tightened his grip on his sheathed sword.

"I'll give you one more chance to drop all of your weapons." He warned.

Erika's hand shakily snaked behind her, lifting her shirt and slipping another knife from it's hidden holster before tossing it on the grass. Meanwhile, Claire bent down and pulled out the knives from her boots, surrendering them as well. Two more men came up from behind him, one of them taking their horse while the other picked up their weapons.

"Follow me," The first guard nodded, spinning on his heel and walking towards the entrance. Erika and Claire cautiously trailed behind him, Erika taking hold of Claire's hand and squeezing it fearfully. As they followed him, they took in the laughter of children, the beautifully decorated homes and the hundred old trees that canopied over parts of their village.

"State your business," The guard demanded gruffly.

"We're uhm—we're looking for a place to live," Erika replied truthfully, glancing apologetically at Claire for disobeying her orders. "Our mother's in a frail state, we just want to find some place safe."

Claire squeezed Erika's hand, silently urging her to keep her mouth shut about her mother's condition. They didn't know these people or their intentions, they were in no position to expose their vulnerabilities.

Claire straightened her posture, "We were in search of a village by the name of Phoenix Drop. Is this it?"

"It is," The guard nodded. "You're more than welcome to stay. However our lord prefers to be alerted of any newcomers."

"I-I'm Erika, and this is Claire." Erika offered, ignoring the glare given by her adoptive sister. "What's your name?"

"Ro'meave," is all he gave, and Claire chose to ignore the glimmer of recognition his name gave her as they followed him deeper in Phoenix Drop.

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a/n

pretty boring chapter but don't worry, actual garroth content coming soon!