Pathfinder

6 - Bread and Water

Kirsha sat in the dark for what felt like an eternity. Completely silent. Almost too afraid to breathe. She knew there was no turning back now. Either she'd fooled him or she was as good as dead. 

He didn't come for her though. Even if he knew where she was. A small part of her wondered therefore if he had simply left. This thought didn't have her relived though. He'd said so himself: She needed him. As much as she hated it. Especially now, that she'd sacrificed what sparse chance she may have had of catching up with the witchhunters on her own.

Eventually, a mix of nerves and increasing cold spurred her to move.  After having searched the cottage so thoroughly she remembered the layout pretty well. It hardly took her a moment to feel her way to the old firepit.  It was mostly just filled with sooth and remains of coal, but she found some bits of rotten wood that still felt usable. Pushed them together in pile in the middle. Then laid down both palms on top, relaxed her shoulders as she whispered."Tsvest."  

She had to remove her hands as soon as the words were said, for the effects of the spell were immediate. A small, but hungry spark, which slowly grew into a flame, coloring the room with it's warm, welcoming glow. The young woman smiled.

Most of what she knew were charms. They weren't quite like the spells. Had more of a will of their own,  sometimes choosing to work and other times not. The good luck one she sometimes suspected her mother had just taught to encourage her to be braver.  And then, she herself had taught it to Damitri. Not because mother wouldn't have found the time to if Damitri had asked, but well, the girl had asked her first.  And she'd wanted to be the one to teach her...but seeing how things were now she wondered if she should have. If mother should have wanted to teach them.

She took in a deep breath and began collecting more things from the floor which she could feed to her fire. It had been a long time since she'd just sat by one like this. She almost felt guilty it was now of all times. Knew though, until it was clear which way the wind blew there was neither a point in leaving not was she about to catch as much as a wink of sleep. 

She also felt hungry. Last time she'd had a meal was the day before, while they'd been traveling the road. She hadn't really packed much in her satchel since she hadn't been expecting to be held up like this. Just enough to last them both a day, since she'd overheard there should be a village a day and a half's travel down this road.  An insincere smile crossed her lips. Suppose it didn't matter much now. The loaf she had left would last her on her own. 

She took off her soaked shoes and socks and placed them by the fire. The rest of her clothes had more or less dried out throughout the day though, and this late she preferred keeping the extra layers on. The winter chill hadn't quite left yet, so the past few day's it hadn't been entirely uncommon to wake up a bit frostbitten.

After that, she reached for her satchel. She'd placed it on one of the chairs, and sort of forgot about it amidst her attempt to find the last ward...Both pieces of which were still laying on the floor beside her. She picked them up and looked over them again. She hadn't felt bad about destroying any of the others, but this one felt a bit different. There was more to it. She could tell. So a part of her felt compelled to once again put what was left of it away in one of her pockets. It wasn't like the kelpie would have to know she'd kept it.

 
A growl from the pit of her empty stomach got her thoughts back on track and she once again reached for the satchel and its contents. Mainly a flask filled with water and a loaf of day-old barley bread. Nothing special. The cheapest you could get really, but that was mostly what she and Damitri had to make do with up until now. Not that they'd at any point in their life had feasted on fine foods, but now that they were on foot and the small savings of their mothers dwindled, even porridges and humble stews had become a rare treat.

She ripped a generous chunk along a crack which had formed in the loaf, before placing the rest back into the satchel. Then washed a bite down with some of the water. After a hard day's long work it almost tasted good. Keyword being almost.

She continued nibbling on the bread, when about halfway through she heard something outside. Rustling steps cracking in a carpet of pine. Once again she froze.