Memories (Of Dreams and Demons)

An Enemy

This is the first rough draft for Chapter 27 - An Enemy - plot and action outline, needs polish and to paint the background scene.  

Naoko and I ready our bags, pack our supplies and check our worn weapons, just like how the heroes do in my books. Except they wear glorious armour, wield exceptionally-crafted blades of the finest steel, carry tailored supplies that can last months.

I have a rusty machete that's spent half its life lying on the dirt, and a wooden board that might stop a blow or two before shattering. Oh well, I sigh, heroes make do with what they have.

My right hand rests on its hilt, lightly, careful not to get splinters from the worn and damaged wood. If we had more time I'd paint a layer of lacquer over it, but we don't have time either.

I glance about the clearing. It feels as if the eyes of the buried animals rest on me, studying me, watching over me. Waiting to see if I will be the hero of their forest, or just another fatality in the battle that never ends.

It's a gentle silence; no taunts or nasty words, no teasing or mocking. In these lands, whether living or dead, animals can not speak. What would they say about me if they could?

I don't count Vuitton polishing his rapier while humming a tune about maidens and dragons. He is an exception to the rule, I have to remind myself that, one I still struggle to accept at times.

He returns my gaze and winks, flourishing his wide-brimmed hat from a nearby stump and placing it on his head. If they could talk, maybe they'd all be as kind as Vuitton? That would be nice.

"The map," Vuitton asks, "if I may?"

He wants the map I've scribbled on through childhood. Over the years it's grown in size and complexity, smudged out and redrawn a dozen times, the last iteration in my room but my imagination growing it further.

I remember: Vuitton the little scout. He wants to lead the way, the new party we've formed for our dangerous quest to be guided by his skills.

I smile, handing it to him, knowing I can trust it in his hands as much as my own, if not more, "lead on."

"We're definitely going back?" Naoko asks quietly.

I nod.

"Promise?" She pleads.

I take her hand, "we're going right now."

And so we take off from the little clearing. The small rays of light streaming through the upper branches of the forest tells me the day is drawing late again, that we will be trekking late into the night.

The thought scares me a little, but we can't afford to wait until morning. We have three days before my parents return, three days for our adventure, best not to waste a moment. Even if travel by night frightens me.

Because there is something more dangerous, more terrifying, than night out there, just as likely to come during the day: the enemy left unsaid for now, the man of shadow and his darkness, searching for us in these woods.

I can sometimes hear his waves of shadow crashing through trees in the far distance, far away from us. But he remains forever present, forever a deadly threat. Naoko eyes the forest warily, the slightest jump at a falling tree or chill wind tells me she remembers him, hears him, too.

We will have to wind between the dirt road leading back to Ogarato and the base of a low line of hills running alongside it, circling around and away from the sea of shadows that sweep over the land, searching for us.

As we begin our journey Naoko picks up a long, straight branch, strong and balanced. It looks like it'd be perfect for a sturdy battle staff. Naoko uses it as a walking stick, whistling away.