The Girl of Ossetia

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

As they reached the tree line, a harsh wind had kicked up from the west, stirring leaves and bending limbs. The trees were tall and thick, their bark dark and knotted, leaves an odd violet which shielded away any light from the moon. Saelam looked up and down the tree line, a stern look on his face.

"Where is he?" He snapped under his breath, craning his neck to get any gimpse of the person who was sent to guide them. Arrana tried her hardest to blot out Iasarith's ragged breathing, looking down at the ground. She closed her eyes, and Nuae greeted her warmly, drifting close in the blackness. So close that almost all of the dark had faded with her iridescent white glow. It gave her comfort, and slowly, Nuae began to drift backwards, drifting between black figures that looked similar to trees. Arrana watched this for a while before opening her eyes again and looking up.

"Follow me." She said lightly, as though it was surest thing in the world. She heeled her horse onward, and they ducked into the thick darkness of the forest. She could hear Saelam gruffly sniffing, biting his tongue to hold back the retaliation, the biting burn to scold her again, but he let out a defeated hiss of a sigh and nodded ot the others to follow. He had nothing else.

For a few moments, she stared out into the thick blackness, tracing her fingertips along the tree's as her horse weaved on. The underbrush was thick, deterring even, and they often had to hack through briar bushes. After what felt like hours of somewhat aimlessly shuffling numbly in the dark, her horse stopped. Arrana didn't question and looked down the muddy bank of a river. The sound of the roaring river was echoing off of the tree's and stony inclines. The partial opening to the sky allowed only the dimmest of moonbeams to wink off of the white waters some feet below. Arrana looked back at Saelam, frowning slightly. Iasarith made a noise that made the girl squirm, and lower her lashes.

Down the muddy bank were snarls of tree roots and large rocks, meeting with the swift water below. She looked up and down the bank, hoping for some sort of bridge or tree, but nothing willed itself to be seen. Again, she looked back at Saelam, waiting for him to point out something that would help, but he was silent with a grave expression on his face. Time lapsed for a while, and she sighed heatedly, before heeling her horse, who hesitated before sliding down the bank. The others stood rigid at the top. The horse's hooves slipped, and she held her breath as soft splashes echoed beneath her as they waded in. The water swept over her legs and over her horses whithers. It was shockingly cold, and she gripped the reins in a death vice.

"Come on, be careful." She yelled up the bank to the others, who very cautiously made their way down. Arrana looked back with a watchful eye the whole time wading across the river, shivering at the strong chill. Her horse's heavy breathing echoed in the back of her thoughts as she watched Iasarith's pale arm dip into the water limply. She gulped dryly, blinking away tears. She felt her horse wrenching itself up onto the bank, when he lurched to a stop. Arrana turned to have an arrow pointed directed in her face. She shrank back, holding her breath, eyes wide.

"Who are you?" A voice snarled out from a dark green cloak, Arrana's eyes narrowed at the five other figures in similar clothing behind the threatening one. The aim of the arrow did not alter. Saelam looked up the bank, yelling in horror.

"Sakat, it's us!" His voice reverberated off of the river banks and tree's. A low exhale was heard from the bowman, and he lowered his arrow, bowing his head, before revealing his face, which was nearly white under the dim light of the moon. Ghoulish shadows crossed his soft features, but he was fairly similiar looking to Rocthor, yet more youthful and lean.

"Sorry, my lady." His eyes diverted to the group now pulling onto the bank dripping wet. Arrana exhaled, biting her tongue before pointing back at Iasarith.