Bridging the Ancient ✓

Chapter 2

The stale bread tears easily in my hands. Crumbs fall onto my lap and I hand the larger half over to Renit, who takes it slowly. If the archer hadn't bothered to come in here hours ago and discover Renit was close to removing the titanium from his body, we wouldn't have to deal with infection anymore. The titanium around his wrist prevents his magical, immortal body from healing what is left of the wound.

I break half of the cheese and hand that over to him as well, even if he takes each bit of food with a grimace. He doesn't want to eat; his body is too busy worrying about other things than stocking itself with necessary nutrients.

"I've had to do this before," Renit mumbles. He turns the bread over in his hand, examining the burnt, stale surface, and rips off a chunk. The flask between us is filled with water from a nearby stream. We weren't given lunch but, in the afternoon, one of the rebels opened the door to the wagon and tossed in this food and water, our meal for the rest of the day.

Not a single soul other than the two of us is worried about Renit's condition. Any glances thrown our way when we're allowed out to relieve ourselves behind a tree are filled with hate and disgust for the prince. No one bothers to ask if he needs a healer or if it would be smart to use one in case the prince doesn't make the journey.

I've heard we're a few hours out. Bren told me after he took me to relieve myself. I didn't bother meeting his eye and I didn't want to talk to him so instead, I told him to take me back to the wagon and we'll talk later. He didn't seem disappointed but more than anything, that's what I feel for him. Disappointment for putting this first. For involving himself in the rebels instead of helping the remnants of Arego build itself back together.

The forces could have stemmed from there. I don't recognize anyone other than Bren, that confirms my superstitions that no one—or a small fraction—of citizens in Arego made it out alive. He's working on his own, he joined a cause of his own and has everything to show for it. Leadership, willing soldiers, and a flame to combat.

"When you were in battle?" I ask, tearing off a chunk of the cheese. Like the bread, it's dry but better than nothing as the bread has no flavor to name. After being dropped in the dirt, sand particles grind through my teeth and I ignore the rattling in my skull as the crackling drowns out every other sound.

Renit nods. "I was injured and my magic was covered by titanium. While I waited for rescue, I forced myself to eat and drink even if I didn't want to. I'm alive today because of that." Then he won't have a problem getting this meal down, if that means he chews on that piece of bread for hours. Finally, he swallows and turns to the cheese. He needs more than I do.

"I suppose you're smarter than I am when dealing with things like this." I roll my neck, stiff after sleeping against his non-injured shoulder for an hour. It was the most sleep I've gotten in too long.

"To be fair, I have over three hundred years on you, I'm a soldier, and I have proper training. If you want to stay alive, then force yourself to do so," he says around the cheese in his cheek. He's much calmer than he ever was when talking to me, his supposed enemy. I was believed to be that, at least.

Before the arrow went through his shoulder on that trail, he had wanted to talk to me. Wanted to, I didn't have to force him. If it wasn't for that arrow, I would know precisely what made him to the witch he is today. Who he lost, someone he loves, and the events that took place to bring him here. In this wagon, all because of me, he is here fighting for his life. All I can do is sit back and watch, give him encouragement, and wait out the long hours until we arrive.

Renit looks towards the window as he takes a swig of water from the flask and hands it over to me. The last time we shared a meal of stale bread and cheese, he was taking me to the capital with my family at my side. My father's warmth, sitting next to me on a boulder. My mother, sparing her food so we could eat more.