The Last Beacon

IX

Sascha yanked on the reins, violently pulling her horse to a halt. She looked around frantically, whipping her head in all directions, desperately trying to find her companion within the moonlit shadows from only moments ago.

Perhaps in her distracted state, he had left without noticing she was not in pursuit?

Her heart thundered in her chest, panic rising in the form of a lump in her throat. She could not recall hearing him disappear.

"Laurenz!" She shouted. His name rolling off her tongue, only to be lost in the silence.

"This isn't funny, Laurenz! Whatever joke you've decided to play on me isn't working out, so stop it!"

The only reply she received was her own echo, and she let out an impatient sigh of frustration.

"Guess I'll just keep going and find you along the way," she grumbled to herself, giving the animal below her a nudge to begin movement again. She didn't fancy staying put to see what animal made the last howl.

The forest fell silent again and with the steady gait of the horse, she relaxed a little and after a time her thoughts drifted back to home.

Will I even make it back home? I'm so far away, and the memories are just a reminder of that.

Sascha had always found the town's idiosyncrasies intriguing, and with such a variety of characters, it was hard not to. Of course, there were those like Landolf or Vena, the individuals that everybody in the village knew, but then there were the shadier ones, like the lowlifes, drunks and thugs.

Cain Silentwood was the perfect example. Powerful gang leader, feared by all, and only twenty years of age. He always had a five o'clock shadow upon his face, and his hair matched his dark and menacing eyes. Nobody dared to cross his path, except Sascha. She had no idea why, but he was rather generous to her.

He made sure she was safe on the streets, and his entire gang was ordered to provide protection if the situation was ever required. Above all, he offered her a place beside him on his self-appointed throne, running the night alongside him.

Sascha had turned him down, but he had told her that the position was always open for her if she ever wanted it.

For much of the time spent on the streets, and even long after that, Cain had been engraved into her mind. There was something enchanting about him; something that seemed to draw her in.

Landolf always said he was too dangerous for her to be hanging around with, but Sascha always savoured any glimpse she got of him.

Sascha's mind eventually drifted away from him and onto her closest friend, the dedicated and cheerful bartender.

What would Landolf say if he knew I was out here, chasing a prophecy that I can't even understand? "At least you're not being a misery guts," I would imagine. Ha, but I suppose he's right.

As she dwelled on him, she realised that she told him that she would be back the night after Laurenz had burst in. What would he be thinking now? It was long past her usual time for showing up to the pub, and she vividly remembered her own words the night before.

"I'll be fine, Landolf. You just have a nice drink and have a good rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Sascha feared that he was worried sick, but of course, there was nothing she could do. No way to contact him, no way to reach out. She hoped he wasn't fretting, and that he wasn't too shaken up after the fight that went down in his bar the night before.

With that, she was brought back to reality. In that moment she felt truly alone.

*

Sascha felt like she had been trekking for hours and her eyelids were heavy with enervation, but she knew she couldn't stop to rest.