The Ashen Raven's Treason

Chapter 47

One doesn't realize the value of their legs until they can't walk any longer. One also doesn't realize how difficult walking is until not doing it for a few days. I can't imagine the struggle Castiel will go through if Reseda can heal his wounds and help him walk again. Years of deteriorated muscle and unused bone will come back to bite him.

When I woke this morning, I didn't think it would be too difficult to put one foot in front of the other but by the time we reached the trail; I had stumbled into Cloak enough times for him to ask if I would like to be carried. After nearly falling face-first into a tree trunk, I almost obliged him. My dignity, pairing with the sight of him stretching out sore muscles from carrying me for an entire day straight, kept me going.

I remember how to walk, but I didn't know the simple act could result in pain. Along the trail, as we walk in silence, I play the game of: is my leg numb, about to collapse, or ready to fall off entirely?

None of those are liable options, the prickling sensation in my toes wears off after a few extra steps but the embarrassment of falling to the ground with no prior warning constantly evades my thoughts.

We made it through the night without incident. I didn't know until morning that Cloak and Aela rotated shifts to keep watch; if I had known, I would've offered a few waking hours except for tossing and turning on the ground. I'll have to apologize to Cloak for the dirt stains on the piece of fabric that identifies him as a leader of the Panjandrum Corps. Until then, it's draped neatly around my shoulders and keeping away the late morning chill accompanied by a frozen breeze that bites at my ears.

The bottom almost drags along the trail and brushes against the backs of my boots, occasionally catching on loose rocks or reaching out to grab twigs extending awkwardly off the side of the trail. Every time it catches, I flash an apologetic look to Cloak, but he doesn't seem to care. In fact, he seems all too proud to have something so important to him in the arms of someone else. Like the responsibility to keep it safe belongs to me and not him. For once.

After eating a small meal of bread and berries that Aela found near the stream, we navigated the woods and found the trail we abandoned the night before. Still empty. Not a single traveler came through, and we would have heard the clunk of wagon wheels or dragon wings if they flew close enough. The Void Queen isn't looking for us—a good sign. But neither are our allies. Aela has avoided speaking about whether her mother and other two siblings are alive. If her jumpiness is any indication of bursting at the seams, she's close to reaching a boiling point.

She walks ahead while Cloak and I bring up the rear. If I could walk fast enough, I would. My hips pop and groan following each step, and the pain from each shiver keeps me from moving at an acceptable pace. The prince has chosen a wonderful time not to ask me if I can move a little quicker. At least he hasn't offered to carry me on his back again like a child. Having to do that once was embarrassing enough. Another time—willingly—would shatter the remainder of my pride.

Cloak and I didn't speak much this morning. He dunked his head in the stream to wash his hair and asked if I would like assistance with scrubbing myself clean. I didn't. But Aela came at the end and helped me dress, sticking to my back where she noticed a shredding lightning bolt coursing down my spine. Physical damage from the Void Queen's Fulgur Turrim. I suppose I could have gotten out with worse. The branding of my wrists and neck from the manacles and collar will remain with me for a lifetime, and the lightning is just another piece of the ensemble I must come to terms with.

I couldn't get a good look at it in the water's reflection, but the bolt snakes from the base of my hairline, traveling the steady track of my spine, and stops at the waist of my pants. The same shade as a brand, and just as painful. Every few minutes, the back of my shirt rubs against it and Cloak has to reach over and scratch the itch I can't reach. I don't have to ask anymore. The moment I start squirming, he knows what needs to be done.