Dynasty of Summer

Chapter Fourteen: Winter

For days, I reeled from the discovery of how Hanming felt and his secret. He hadn't broken from his resigned manner, but at least no longer ignored me. He'd asked I give him space, wishing to remain clear-minded. I respected this desire, accepting it needed to be enough to know he cared. Sometimes when we were alone, we exchanged demure glances. Once, we even briefly hooked pinkies.

One day, when I felt I would burst, I tried a conversation about his ancestry. "Who does know of your lineage? How often do you see your mother?"

"I rarely see the Empress." His response came terse. It made me feel as if I were too forward. I made a mental note to apologize, but he continued, "She, Zhan Ji, Yang Hengyan, and Peng Xu are the only ones who know." After answering, Hanming ducked away. I regretted how the questions made him feel.

After first frost, we found more idle time indoors. I spent much of it with Winter, reading our mother's journal. Because of it, we speculated on a journey east in hopes of finding the old Tai Empire. A burning settled, especially in Winter's soul and soon spread to me. We brought the idea to the bandits and Elk agreed to escort us. As a child, his family often journeyed to the sea and he knew the best places to camp.

Silk Deer came along with the excuse to protect my brother. Truthfully her tracking talents were much needed to find food in the scarce season. Naturally, Hanming became our fifth party. Silently, I rejoiced.

I dusted off my winter cloak, which someone had found and returned. It used to be embroidered with colorful flowers. After wild events, it now was a dingy gray and I loved it more than ever. The women helped sew a fresh fur lining. It afforded me shelter, both emotionally and from the cold.

I doubted Hutu would miss me. He stayed behind from the harsh trip, having grown fond of the bandits and the scraps they fed him. They called him "Little Lion" for the measure of ferociousness he showed when first defending me.

~*~

We left on a brisk morning with bundles of smoked fish and extra furs. I gave Hutu a rub down and a slab of dried meat I'd saved. Mounting our horses, we rode towards the rising sun. On our left was the constant roar of the river. Our gourds of water knocked languidly in the otherwise quiet morning.

Elk warned of other bandit clans who might scour the riverbank and we kept alert. Hilly paths with trees for cover became the normal scenery. At night, we camped without a fire and left little trace.

Sometimes we chanced upon small villages. In trade for labor we were offered a night in sheds and meager food. We always set off before sunrise. Occasionally, Elk and Silk Deer would steal from kitchens. Once we were lucky to chance upon salted pork. They only took what was needed and left most reserves. Silk Deer sometimes rode off by herself to follow a track.

I asked Elk, "Should we worry?"

"Silk Deer's safer alone. She knows these parts well and can disappear better without us encumbering her."

She usually caught up by suppertime with small animals. On those nights we dug a deep pit to hide the light of cooking flames.

Half a moon's travel later, we came upon rubble. Elk dismounted and dug through collapsed walls. He revealed a chipped stone slab with weathered characters. He read aloud, "Herbal Shop of West Village." Elk announced, "I often came here with my father to sell herbs from our hometown."

We camped in the remains of the shop, building a low fire and huddling in furs. Silk Deer hummed and I joined. Elk reminded, "West Village is about a day's travel from the outskirts of the coastal Empire."

Our song carried into the night. Over our small fire I looked to my brother with a feeling of peace. His eyes shined. I wanted to ask what gripped his mind, but didn't wish to disrupt his thoughts. I imagined he dreamed of life in the coastal city.