Tales after Dusk 04

Orane breaks his gaze, standing while wiping her sweaty palms on her pants, "Are you hungry?"

"Famished," he replies. It takes him a little more effort to get up off of the sofa; he has to steady himself against the arm. Though Orane hovers nearby, she doesn't make any effort to assist him, for which he is grateful. When he feels ready he slowly starts towards her, following her out of the tent.

Instantly the world seems enormous. With the intense throbbing in his head, all of the new sights, sounds and smells threaten to overload his senses. He draws a sharp breath in, shocked by the sudden openness of the world outside of the tent. When his heart starts to pound, his head begins to throb. Trying to decrease the size of the world around him, he forces himself to stare at Orane's back as she walks over to a large fire, around which two men sit. One of them stands and extends his hand to Zeke.

"'ello. I'm Patrick O'Connell. Everyone calls me Professor."

Zeke peels his eyes off of Orane's back. He takes the man's hand and shakes it firmly. Professor appears to be around the age of Zeke, if not a little older. He has a lanky, wiry frame that seems to be sparsely laced with muscle. While not a handsome fellow, his affect seems to project an air of confidence.

Zeke can feel his blood pulsing through his body; he swallows hard trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth, "Hello. I'm Ezekiel." His voice comes out unsurely, almost frantic.

Professor looks at Orane. With a mere glance they seem to exchange thoughts, conveying an unspoken conversation, "Well, Zeke, let me get you some stew." Professor turns and kicks Luther's foot while walking by.

Luther, peeling his eyes off of Zeke, quickly gets up, taking the hint, "And I'll ahh...grab you a blanket."

After the two men are out of eyesight, Zeke sits down on a log next to the fire. His breathing is fast, sweat beading on his forehead. He clenches the fabric of his pants at the knee, desperate for something to hold onto.

Orane kneels in front of him. Slowly, so as not to frighten him, she places her hands on his cheeks, "Zeke, what's wrong?" she says gently.

"I—I don't know, it's just, I feel," he spits out franticly. He feels like he can't breathe and isn't able to help it when he starts panting. The world starts to slowly tip from one side to the next and he feels as if he is going to pass out.

Orane tilts his head up so that his eyes lock on to hers. She gently brushes his hair out of his face, stroking his cheek, "I'm right here. Take a deep breath and hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly. Just keep your eyes on me, all right?"

He does as she says. Even in the dark he can see her beautiful green eyes. He knows that he should feel ashamed at his behavior, that he should look away, but he can't. It is as if he is drawn to her, hypnotized by the calmness in her face. Slowly, his heart stops racing, his breathing returns to normal and the cold night air dries the sweat from his forehead. He thinks that she surely must be a witch.

As he calms down, she keeps her hands on his face, speaking softly, "When I was a little girl, on my birthday, my parents bought me the most beautiful little songbird. She was still a baby when I got her; I loved her and I played with her every day. When I got older, I began to feel bad that my bird was living in a cage and I wanted to set her free so that she could live a full and happy life. So I took her out of her cage, put her on my shoulder and I walked out of my bedroom and to the garden. I thought she would immediately fly away and I would never see her again—but she didn't. She was terrified, so much so that she would hide under my hair. I tried to put her on a bench, but she crawled back up my arm and hid again. She was breathing so fast that she was panting—I thought she was going to die. We went back inside, back to my room and she was fine. It is a horrible thing, to raise a free spirit like a bird inside of a cage. When I took her away from everything she grew to know, no matter how wrong of an environment it was for her, she was overwhelmed. It took almost a year before she wasn't afraid of being outside anymore. I understand this is a lot for you to take in right now, but when you feel like you are panicking, just remember that I will be right here for you." Slowly she lowers her hands, lingering for a moment to make sure that Zeke is fine.

He nods calmly, his body weak and tired as if he had just run across the country. Orane sits down on the bench next to him, stretching her legs out in front of her. Cautiously, Zeke looks around, taking care to only think about what is directly in front of him instead of trying to take in the entire world. He sees Orane's huge tent to his right; next to it are two large ones and finally a small one, forming a half circle around the fire. Professor comes out of one of the large ones, with a steaming bowl and a blanket. Slowly he hands the bowl to Zeke, who takes it with a meek smile. As he begins to eat, Professor drapes the blanket around Zeke's shoulders before sitting back down across from the fire.

"There are seven of us all together; Luke and Mikhail are in your tower and John is on lookout. You've met Professor, do you want to meet my other two men?" Orane's tentative voice feels Zeke out.

"Yes," he says between spoonfuls of stew, "I would."

She nods to Professor, who rises to get the other two. Zeke turns to her, looking over her moonwashed skin, "What happened to your bird?"

She smiles, staring off into the fire, "She's still around. I leave my balcony door open so that she knows she is always welcome at home. She comes and goes as she pleases."

Professor returns with two more men and a bowl of stew for Orane. Zeke rises respectfully to shake their hands.

"I'm Luther."

"I'm Rollo."

They all sit down in silence for a while. The stew warms Zeke inside and out and despite the pain from his injuries and his panic attack, he feels somewhat at ease. He quietly says what he is thinking, afraid that it might be construed as offensive, "I guess I'm a bit confused."

"Oh?" Luther responds. His opinion of Zeke has diminished even more after his franticness. Luther watched Orane calm him down from the shadows, now fully convinced of her affections towards the man.

"Yes, well I haven't been around very many people, but I have read a lot of books. Never once have I come across a group...such as yourselves..." he isn't sure how to say it politely.

"You mean a bunch of rough men, lead by a woman?" Rollo puts it bluntly.

"Well...yes."

Orane and her men laugh about it a little.

"We like to call ourselves the Queen's Merry Band of Misfits," Professor says smugly. He gets a somewhat dirty look from Orane before quickly correcting himself, "Well, obviously we are all the misfits and Miss Orane is our Queen. A bit of advice to you son, every woman is a Queen. Best learn that one now." The men all chuckle while Orane rolls her eyes.

"Yes, and as your Queen, I am entitled to the largest tent to which I don't have to share with you snoring men folk. Now I shall be off to bed," she stands and turns towards Zeke, squeezing his shoulder slightly, while speaking quietly to him, "If you need me, I will be right in there."

He smiles and nods before watching her walk back to her tent. When he turns back to the men, they are all watching him just as curiously. He feels his face begin to blush as he tries to cover up his infatuation with Orane, "What do you mean by misfits?"

"Well," Rollo begins, "There isn't a one of us that would be here if it weren't for Miss. I am a burglar by trade and if she hadn't have saved me, I'd be rotting in a prison. John went crazy when a herd of his prize cattle were stolen and he nearly beat the town of Bethel to death. Luke used to be a Priest, but when he was captured by a hoard of savages he sort of lost his beans and killed his way out. Mikhail is...well, a bit of a Cassanova, if you catch my drift. And Professor here, well, he's just down right insane."

He nods, looking at Luther, "And you? What is your misfit attribute?"

Luther gives him somewhat of a cold look before standing, "I am her guardian. I make sure she stays alive—and unharmed. Now good night gentlemen," he says before walking to his lone tent.

It is as obvious to Zeke as it is to everyone else that Luther isn't thrilled about his presence. After Luther disappears through his canvas doors, Rollo and Professor exchange looks. They turn to Zeke.

"Don't take it personally," Professor says, "It isn't you. Luther just doesn't like anyone."

..

Zeke, Rollo and Professor talk into the late hours of the night; Zeke is relieved to find them just as kind as Orane even if they are a bit rowdier. When the men grow tired and yawns spread like the plague, Rollo shows Zeke to his part of their tent. The square tent is divided into four sections by canvas walls; the first is the entry way where the men keep their gear so that it doesn't get wet. Rollo and John's partitions are in the back, which leaves Zeke closest to the door. The area is small yet it has everything he needs: a cot, a small table and a chest at the end of the bed that is full of clothes. After Rollo bids him goodnight, Zeke curls up under the wool blanket and soon finds himself fast asleep.

His slumber doesn't last long; horrible nightmares of the witch finding him and taking him back to the tower jar him awake. Panting and covered in sweat, he sits up in a panic, unsure where he is. When he begins to remember, he starts to calm down knowing that he has four friends in close proximity. He tries to lie back down but every time he closes his eyes he sees the witch. Tossing and turning, he becomes afraid that he will wake the other men up with his restlessness, so Zeke wraps the blanket around his shoulders and steps out of the tent into the cool night air.

The fire has died down to a few smoldering coals that still cast off a lot of heat, but in the absence of their light he discovers a vast world in front of him. The four tents circle the fire right next to a huge lake where the full moon and its army of stars reflect off of the glass like water. Instead of feeling panic, Zeke finds himself in full awe of the open beauty before him. He sits down before the fire, facing the lake, so that he can take in the glorious view that the night has offered. It isn't long before his heart stops racing, his breathing slows, and his eyelids grow heavy.

...

The smell of cooking bacon causes Zeke's eyes to open. The sun has begun to peak over the horizon casting a soft pink light over the lake before him. Rollo sits across the dead fire, eating his breakfast while watching Zeke.

Zeke sits up stiffly; he fell asleep propped up against the log and his back is in as much pain as his head and arm. He rearranges the blanket over his shoulders, folding his feet underneath him.

"I thought you were dead, I really did," Rollo offers as a reason for his staring.

"No, he's not. I checked before I started cooking," Professor replies while handing Zeke a plate full of food. Mounded with eggs, sausage, bacon and biscuits it is almost enough to feed an army.

"How come you didn't give me that much?" Rollo says, feigning hurt feelings.

"Are you kidding me? Have you seen the size of this guy?" Professor calls over his shoulder while filling up another plate for Luther, who sits down next to Rollo quietly. After grabbing a plate for himself, Professor sits on the log next to Zeke.

"Where is Orane?" Luther asks, somewhat worried.

"She is right..." Professor looks around; just as he turns to his right, Orane appears from the woods with a cask in her hand, "Right there. Just in the nick of time, woman, my food is getting cold!" he shouts to her.

Orane hands him the jug with a snotty sneer, "You're lucky I'm a jack of all trades, or your breakfast might just go incomplete." She nods to Rollo and Luther, offering a warm smile to Zeke while filling up her plate, "I am surprised you didn't catch your death out here, it gets pretty cold at night."

After dumping a glob onto his plate, Professor leans over Zeke's and pours some onto his sausage, "Its maple syrup—ever had that before? Absolutely divine. I would eat it on a roast."

"And it is the last of the syrup, too. The seasons have changed—soon it will be as hard as a rock and you will have to suffer until spring." Orane snatches the jug from Professor, pouring a little over her food before handing it to Luther.

For a while, the group eats in awkward silence. Up until now, each day has been full with purpose—planning, preparation, scouting, stalking, but now, now their mission is to wait until Luke and Mikhail finish spinning the rope. Though no one makes eye contact, Zeke can feel them watching him. When he finally looks up, he sees Luther's cold stare; neither one of them look away, both refusing to capitulate to the other. Zeke begins to feel dislike towards the old man, if for the only reason that Luther doesn't like him in return.

"So," Rollo breaks the silence, trying to stop their stare down, "What do we do for the next six days?"

Orane peels her eyes off of Luther for a moment. She ponders on the question, but before she can answer, Luther speaks up.

"We need to alert the guard at home that we will be returning and that shortly thereafter a witch will follow. We also need to figure out how to transport a golden ram and pack up camp. There is a lot to do."

"I think the ram can ride in the wagon. I mean, we will have to reinforce it some, but the wagons are strong enough to carry all of our equipment, there isn't much more of a difference in weight," Professor says between mouthfuls of food.

"We don't need to pack up camp—it isn't really a priority, it can be done when all of this is over," Orane adds.

"I think Professor and I can get the wagon fixed up in a day or two, perhaps three," says Rollo.

Luther nods slowly, "Fine, then I will return to town to let them know of our arrival. I should be back by nightfall."

"No," Orane says, setting her plate down, "You need to stay there, prepare them for what is to come."

Luther looks at her. He doesn't feel safe leaving her side. Her entire life, since her parents were murdered, he has never been more than a few minutes away from her, watching over her, protecting her. But regardless of how he feels, he knows that it is the right thing to do; none of the guards will be able to fully grasp what is at stake if they fail. No one will be prepared enough to fight a witch. He begrudgingly offers a simple nod of acceptance.

"What shall I do? I wish to help as well," Zeke says, setting his empty plate aside.

Everyone's eyes turn to him; they are all thinking the same thing. While Zeke is a valuable asset, with firsthand knowledge of the witch, he is but a novice. Nay, worse—he is almost entirely useless. His massive size, while intimidating, is entirely misleading as he has never wielded a weapon or fought another human being. As if he can feel what they are thinking, his eyes drop to the ground.

All of the men turn to Orane, none of them brave enough to say what they are thinking but each one hoping that her immaculate skill with language can get the point across without doing any emotional damage. "How you can help right now, Zeke, is by resting. You suffered a great injury last night—and while we managed to get you patched up, your body still needs time to recover. We need you strong and clear minded for when we arrive in Reddington in a few days. None of us want to run the risk of causing you damage."

Zeke nods to acknowledge that she spoke to him, but his body language makes it clear that he isn't pleased with her answer. When he feels a soft hand on his shoulder, he automatically turns to her. Her face, though marked with skepticism, has a look of reassuring confidence in it, "Rest for now. Let us see how you are feeling after lunch; perhaps Rollo can show you how to use a sword with your good arm later."

...

Zeke remains seated by the fire, watching Professor wave his arms about, trying to convey to Rollo what needs to be done to the wagon. Just beyond them, Orane holds onto the reins of a horse as Luther ties a saddle bag to it. He can't hear what they are saying, but he gets the odd feeling that the conversation is about him. Luther lightly touches Orane's cheek before turning away and mounting the steed. He glances briefly at Zeke, speaking a few more words to Orane before he turns his horse and disappears amongst the trees. Orane watches him go. When he is out of sight, her head drops slightly, her posture drooping as if she is unhappy. She remains in this stance for quite a while, as if she is reflecting upon whatever it was Luther said to her. When she lifts her head up towards the sky, she straightens her back immediately taking a stance that demands respect. Her shoulders rise with a deep breath before she turns around. Zeke quickly looks back over to Professor and Rollo, trying to make it seem as if he was watching them the whole time. Stealing a quick glance back at Orane, he sees that she is walking towards him. Tight, grey wool pants hug her legs just above her black boots. Beneath a fur vest she wears a cream colored shirt; her thick, red hair is pulled away from her pale face. Her piercing emerald eyes seem like they could be harsh and strict but when they find Zeke they quell his nervousness and put him in a state of awe.

She offers him a quaint smile when she reaches him. Grabbing her bag from the log across the fire, she slings it over her shoulder along with a quiver of arrows before picking up a bow. She hesitates, as if she wants to say something to Zeke but isn't quite sure how to put it.

Slightly irritated, he assumes she is going to try to cushion the blow of his uselessness, "Yes, I understand. I will remain here and rest, I will not wander off."

Taken aback, she clears her throat, "I was going to say that I am off to do a little bit of hunting, I should be back by lunch."

Zeke instantly feels ashamed for speaking to her so—she has done nothing but help him and she saved his life. By the time he opens his mouth to apologize, it is too late; Orane has all ready headed off to the woods. Now, not only does he feel useless, he also feels like an idiot.

He tries to sleep in the tent for a while but after a bit his body tells him it is past time to get up. When he exits the tent the vastness of the outside hits him with such force that he draws in a sharp breath. But today, instead of feeling overwhelmed and afraid, he is filled with a sense of awe at the never ending sights before him. Walking slowly so as to take in as much as he can process, he makes his way over to Professor and Rollo to see what progress they have made. The two men bicker at each other. Kindly, they bounce ideas off of Zeke even though he lacks the expertise to respond correctly.

Surprisingly, Zeke spots Orane first; in the distance, walking through the trees, her bright orange hair shines against the sun like a flame. When Professor finally sees her, he quits his work and shouts out to her.

"Did you get me a pheasant? Please tell me you did. I am growing tired of deer and fish."

"You should be so lucky to eat as much as you do, Professor. There are some who would never complain about having meat with their meal," she chastises him. Once she reaches the clearing, she tosses her satchel to Professor.

Like a child opening a present, he lifts the flap and peeks inside. His smile fades slightly as he pulls out a large rabbit, "Well, at least it isn't fish, I suppose. You could have cleaned and skinned them," he pouts.

Orane slips her leg through her bow, putting tension on the end of it so as to release the string, "Yes, well seeing as how our roles are reversed and I, as the woman, am hunting for food while you, as a man, are cooking it, I thought you would appreciate the opportunity to fully embrace your position. There are four of them in there, mind you. They are fairly large so I figured it would be enough meat for all of us."