Quickburned

Trails

A few months back...

He woke alone before dawn, still curled around a body no longer in bed with him. It wasn't the first time, of course, but Caleb was still disappointed when all that was left of the red woman was her scent on his skin. The room was no longer marble and silk luxury but plain adobe and rough-woven cotton shabbiness. It was exactly what he'd expected when he'd gone upstairs with the woman last night, a place barely big enough to hold the bed. He dressed in suspiciously clean and mended clothing, shook himself to settle all his gear, and left before he could start in on whether it'd all been a dream.

He'd gotten barely two steps into Riven's dusty streets before somebody plowed into him and bounced off like a panicked rabbit. Caleb grabbed the fellow before he ended up in the dirt. "Whoa, there, pal, where're you goin' in such a hurry?"

"Oh—Gods, Caleb, thank heavens. It's you...!"

He recognized Torin as soon as the fellow looked up, even though his face and his person was streaked with dirt and grime. Torin kept flocks of rangy southern sheep on the outskirts of Riven, and could be relied upon to share his campfire and a meal, if Caleb was in the area. He hung onto Caleb's arm with the desperate grip of one about to be washed away.

"They took her, Caleb. They took Rani and I lost the trail and thank Rivela you're here—"

"Slow down—who took Rani?" Caleb steered Torin into the shade alongside one of the buildings and had him sit down on a bench; the man was breathing like a spooked horse and his dark southern skin was flushed and hot.

"Raiders. Must have been. They weren't the usual rats." Torin gulped air and Caleb passed him his canteen. After a sip, Torin kept on, somewhat calmer. "You know the guys around here—they're just... they're on hard times, most of 'em. Hell, I've shared a fire with them almost as often as I have you. They'd not take..."

"When, Torin? When did they take her?"

"This morning. Before dawn, from the camp on the north side of town—you know the one?" Caleb made encouraging sounds and Torin babbled on. "I went to take over a little after dawn and found her gone, but her camp thrown apart, scrapes and marks in the dirt all over. Trailed 'em down into the wadis, but lost 'em in the rocks."

"I'll get yer sister back, Torin. This is what I do, aye? An' I'm damned good at it." He gave Torin a wide, smug grin and clapped the fellow on the back.

He left a cautiously optimistic Torin and found his own jingling way to the stables, all his limbs feeling loose and relaxed. Suns, he almost felt like whistling. Even the growing heat of Ascending Wood couldn't smother his contentment on the walk through town down to the livery. He was well fed, well sated, and had something important to do laid out before him—there was little else he was wanting. Tracking a couple raiders and rescuing a kidnapped girl wouldn't take him more than a week, likely.

Caleb settled for humming instead, some ivory tickler's fancy what wouldn't leave his head. He laughed as the sound brought Dirt's head over the stall rail immediately on arrival. The stallion was groomed to a shine, his mane and tail braided in a neat military style out of the way and Caleb thumped the fellow on the shoulder as the stallion checked him over for treats.

"I dunno what you did, Caleb, but ol' Dirt had a whole bevy of charming ladies fawning over him yesterday." One of the old hands came out of the tackroom at the ruckus, rubbing leather soap into a mess of straps and buckles. "Gave 'im a wash and everything. He looks better'n'you now."

"Yeah, I dunno what I did either," Caleb said, pulling the halter off the peg by the door and getting it onto Dirt's inquisitive nose with a minimum of fuss. He led the stallion out into the yard, dodging the inevitable attempt to steal his hat. "But I ain't gonna argue! Mind gettin' my gear out?"