The Mindless Man's Paradise

Chapter seventy-one

  After the weeks I had just endured, starvation and dehydration had almost become the norm for me. Even though I had withstood several accounts of both dangers, it didn’t make either of them any more bearable than they would be for anyone else. Out of the two, my need for water was most urgent. My lips were chapped and felt like a desert, and my tongue felt like sandpaper inside of my mouth.

  Despite our needs, Cyrus and I had to continue at a steady pace, weaving in and out of the trees, bushes, and undergrowth. And since it was night time, and the tree canopy had blocked any moon light that might’ve helped, this task was a struggle. More than once, I tripped over tree roots, rocks, and even a small rodent, at one point. Tree branches whipped me in the face, and I found myself constantly fumbling to untangle brambles from my hair. I felt blood from the many scratches that surely cluttered my face drip down my neck and become absorbed by whatever fabric my robes had been made of.

  We took short breaks whenever we could, and made sure that we stayed in the thickest parts of the woods, where nobody would think we would go. There had been plenty of much, much easier routes that would require much less exertion, but any amount of exertion would pay off, if we weren’t to be caught. And of course, Cyrus would make sure that we weren’t.

  I had never seen him in the woods before. Besides in his small field behind his house, where he did nothing but tend to plants. In real wilderness, his body moved with precision that was even easy to see in the dark. He maneuvered under branches and over rocks that I never would have seen. His eyes were always calculating, taking in every aspect of his surroundings; what he could see, what he couldn’t see, and things that he might see. It was almost as if he was in his own world, one that I was merely bearing witness to.

  His attention to detail, and strange sort of calm, gave me an abstruse sense of relief, causing me to forget all about the intrepid, yet malicious ways of his fighting.

  Just as I thought I was done thinking about it, a vision of Cyrus shooting an HQ official in the face flashed through my mind. But lucky for me, it left as quickly as it had come.

  The following morning came rather quickly.

  The sun only reminded me that if I were anywhere else, I would be drinking a nice glass of water along with some fruit for breakfast.

  “Do you know how close we are?” I asked, out of breath.

  Cyrus opened up the map, which I had given him. It turned out that Cyrus was also a very good navigator.

  “If we’re lucky, we can get there by late tonight, or early tomorrow morning. It’s usually a two day’s journey, but even with our backtracking, we’re making really good time.” he paused. “Well it’s probably because this time around we’re running, and we’re not pushing a girl in a wheelbarrow.”

   This made me laugh.

  “Is that how you carried me?” I pondered aloud.

  Our strides slowed, and out gaits were synchronized, as I was becoming more accustomed to Cyrus’s way of working in the woods.

  “Yes.” he grinned.

  “I’m so excited to be home, finally.” I sighed, exasperated. “I just want some mac-n-cheese and hot cocoa from Aurora.”

  Cyrus frowned slightly at this, probably more-so to himself than to me, but I noticed anyways.

  “That’s probably not too healthy.” he said, trying to be amusing. When I didn’t laugh he said, “To be frank, I’m terrified of going back home.”