Fool.
“Shut up”
Fool!
“I don’t care!”
“FOOL!”
“SHUT UP!” Furley screamed into the wind, scrunching his eyes shut as if trying to blink away a thought or feeling plaguing his mind. To an onlooker, it may have seemed that he was arguing with himself like a madman, except there were no onlookers. At least, to his knowledge there wasn’t.
Kicking his heels into his horse’s side, he leaned down closer to her ears. “Come on, Calista, don’t fail me now. Ride hard, give me what you’ve got!”
Of course, the horse understood nothing of what he said, but very much got the gist and answered his determination by increasing her gallop, almost throwing Furley from the saddle as she went. The trees began to pass in a blur, and the stray leaves were whipped up around the floor as they both passed like a momentary hurricane, before settling once more.
The day continued to move forward as they did, until the treeline began breaking and the Last Bridge began to once again be in sight; a place that held so many memories for Furley, good and bad, and so many pivotal moments in his life along the way.
Slowing down, he broke through the tree lining in a gentle trot, and he could see how much exertion he’d put on his mount. Veering off the pathway to the right, he diverted her down to the river so that she could drink and staggering from the saddle he crouched by the river side himself, splashing his face with the cool water.
Reaching to his side, he went for his flask and suddenly realised that it wasn’t there. His stomach sank for a moment, and he looked at his saddlebags, or rather, lack of, and upon realising they weren’t there either, sighed and laughed to himself, before allowing himself to slide back and sit in the muddy riverbank.
Flicking mud off his boots casually with his index finger, scraping the large clumps off with his thumb, he allowed himself a moment to consider his situation.
“No weapons. No spare clothing. No food. No water. Bugger” he muttered to himself, still chuckling, before remembering what he’d shouted to the Lady Drubainbess and Davamir. “I’m impulsive!” he’d yelled, which made him chuckle even harder. He imagined Daphnee, staring at him, hands on hips, visibly disappointed and disapproving, tutting as she shook her head at him. Then he imagined her trying to conceal a smile at the same time, and he smiled along with his thought process.
“Oh, if you could see me now. You wouldn’t be surprised” he grinned before he heard a twig snap somewhere in the distance.
His ears went back, and his horse raised her head up, listening intently. Getting up with a squelch, he peered at the treeline whilst staying low, looking for any signs of movement. He stayed where he was for several moments, before hearing a rustle from the direction of the road.
How close was it? Was it coming for him? Was it a passer-by? Was it Dru and Davamir? After all, he hadn’t thought that they might come back looking for him. Either way, he had a decision to make. Looking at the bridge, he realised the water was far too deep and the current too strong to hide both him and horse under. There was a small island, jutting out in the centre of the river, but once again, with his horse that option simply wouldn’t do.
Looking north, he narrowed his eyes and made his choice. Keeping as low as possible, he grabbed the reins and slinked into the shadow of the treeline, making for a ridge behind a tall pillar of rock that jutted upwards into the sky from the riverbank. The Trollshaws weren’t the safest of places at night, but that may just deter whoever may be behind him, if their intentions weren’t affable.
Finding his spot, he waited for sunset to approach, keeping his eye on the bridge and another on his surroundings, using his rising sense of foreboding to keep his eyes sharp and his ears tuned for any sign of disturbance about him.
