Resist

38

The only disturbance during my watch had been a magpie cawing loudly and flying into the sky, obviously disturbed by something or someone. This had put me on edge for time, body and bow string tense as I waited to see if someone was going to appear. After the stillness and silence of the forest had returned and stayed for more than ten minutes, I relaxed again and laid my bow back in my lap.

Now, I was lying on the ground, a blanket layered between my lean body and the dirt of the forest floor. I couldn’t sleep, something that surprisingly didn’t have me surprised; I knew it was all the worry. I worried for Jack, worried for The Recovery, worried for our raid; so many things to worry about because so many things could go wrong.

Someone stirred beside me and I turned my head. It was Will, flopping in his sleep, his lips down turned. On the other side of him, Brenton was being shaken awake by Brody for the last watch. It took a decent amount of coaxing for the brawny boy to get up, rubbing his eyes like a child. He grabbed his mace from where it had lay next to him as he slept and headed to the spot each person had sat upon as they kept watch. 

I turned my head back, resting it comfortably on my arms. My hands would probably have pins and needles when I got up but for now, this was comfortable, seeing as I didn’t have a pillow.

I didn’t expect to fall asleep, and seeing as Brenton was on watch we didn’t have much time left for our morning naps (he had called last watch after all) but I did, a short dream ensuing that I did not remember upon awaking. All I knew was that a sense of power resided within me when my eyes fluttered open. Tucker was beside me, gently shaking Will and I awake simultaneously. 

“The wagon should be passing within the next few hours,” he told us before moving away, going to wake James, perhaps the hardest task of the day.

I stood, stretching by arching my back and suddenly a voice sounded in my head. You remind me of a cat. It was Jack’s voice, deep and raspy, rough from sleep.The memory of that morning washed over my quickly, remembering how he had moved away when Nessa had come near, still intent on hiding his true self. How far he had come to only leave us. I quickly dropped my arms and my back went to neutral, the stretch over quickly as I did not wish to dwell on now sour memories; Jack’s kidnapping had tainted them all.

A hand bumped into my leg, trying to get my attention. “Essie,” Will whined, holding the hand out and asking me to help him up. I smiled, taking his hand in both of mine and leaning back to counter his weight as I pulled him to his feet. 

“Is the leg any better?” I asked as he gingerly put weight on it, testing it. 

“It feels stiff but a lot better than earlier,” he informed me. 

“Good,” Tucker said as he walked past and overheard, “because we’ve got business to take care of in approximately an hour and James needs to get in a tree, where’s James?” I could tell by his voice and the way it kept getting faster and louder towards the end of his sentences that he was nervous. “James?” he called, looking about. 

“Over here mate,” came the answer. He was digging through his bag, the clattering of metal reaching our ears as strips of cotton were removed from knives and the weapons tossed onto a growing pile. He kept pulling more and more from the bag; it seemed to be that all his pack contained were knives. After removing every last one, we all watched, still shocked, as he began fitting them onto his body. Some went in his belt, one into each boot, one to a strap around his thigh that looked homemade, one to the inside pocket of his coat, one up his sleeve on another homemade strap around his forearm. Two remained in his hands, his weapons to start off whatever battle would soon ensue. 

“Someone’s prepared,” Will said, sounding astounded.

“Always,” Jameson murmured, moving towards Tucker to begin discussing which tree would be good for his task.