Status: Ever so slowly being updated.

Unending Trails

From Cut to Killed

For the days that I’d know about it being unforgivingly hot, I’d prepare myself for the worst. Well, at least about as much as I could prepare myself for. Today, however, I’d know it’d be a different day. Thank whoever’s up there watching down on us, because I could’ve very well been enticed to entirely pleading and begging to stay inside.

The morning was a cool one, and the clouds were plentiful as far as the eye could see past the horizon. It was a relaxing sign that today wasn’t gonna be that harsh. That is… I pray it isn’t.

After we had eaten last night, Alton had shown me the room he usually sleeps in. It also had lots of room, deceiving me yet again for how small it looked on the outside. The room was outfitted with one large bed, that could hold a grown man, furniture accompanying it with shelves and other such things around the walls, and one bed frame.

This he had told me that he had planned to build another, just in case something like this would happen. Thankfully, he allowed me to sleep on the sofa. Just another reason why we are going on this trip in the first place I guess.

Be glad you’re this lucky…

‘Mmm hm.’

Out of all the days in the world, all the places I could be at, and all the things I could possibly do, I was certainly lucky to be here. It’s one thing to say that I did survive through what could be essentially considered poverty, but it’s another to say that I’m fortunate enough to now consider a place to stay at. One with a friendly face, and one with a somewhat comfortable sofa.

Granted, I am sore from yesterday, but at least I can breathe without stressing over drills and practice through it.

But I am thankful nonetheless for what Alton has done for me so far. He has given me food, and a bed to sleep on for the long nights. I can only express my gratitude and guilt for him —that is if I’m not the one he’s looking for.

Who knew that that cabin has that much room in it? If you ask me, seems like there are some hidden compartments most definitely.

A soft and lighthearted grin seeped through one side of my mouth, to which I looked up to see what I had now been used to.

It was early in the morning-quarter. Upon waking up, Alton wanted to depart as soon as possible, just to get in enough time before nightfall… which means we’d probably be there all day.

It was the —now comfortable— feeling I had gotten when I was being lazy while Alton guided Sorrel and Dahlia. The ambient sound of mother nature, as well as the beautiful sights she had to offer, were indeed a remedy for uneasiness… well in some circumstances that is.

This was certainly the common treading I’d take often when thinking back to stressful times, or even with that nightmare I had last night. Though in reality, it really didn’t bother me too much aside from the fact that it was recurring and frequent. Often times, it sure was a nightmare, but it was also the sign that I was still myself with the same problems I’d always had as a kid. The only thing that would really get to me is its own changes it’d make due to its recurrence, as occasionally it’d be surprisingly different.

For now though, the wholesome thought of the two pulling the cart were enough to get my mind off it.That night that we had eaten, I was only then curious about how they had come to be. As he told me that night, he had gotten Sorrel from an unfortunate incident northeast of Tierredaviid, where a small peasant village was attacked by what I thought to be usual bandits. With an oddly nonchalant expression, he had said it was a chaotic scene that he was very lucky to get out of alive. He’d tell me happily how Sorrel had escaped through the burning stables, where it was then his ticket out of everything —and that had it not have happened the way it did, Alton would’ve become another victim.

‘Just as interesting as a children’s story…’

Though truth be told, he seemed pleased that it had even happened in the first place, almost disregarding the sad build-up on the poor villagers there. He explained that because the conditions were so badly complicated —and worsening— the livestock there often times suffered.

This was how his name came to be, as the province up there often grew it along with other herbs, to which he couldn’t help himself and decided to take it along with his travels and grow it where he was situated for long periods of time.

As for Dahlia, she had always been with him since she was a foal. Alton had put her to use because of their strong trust bond they had together since then, where essentially he began to travel long distances to the western provinces. Other than that, there was nothing too remarkable to say about her origin. She had always been the sweet mare —and the sweeter of the two between her and Sorrel.

I took in a deep breath as I relinquished the fact that I was jealous of Alton’s life.

Maybe one day you’ll have stories to tell…

‘Hmm… one day.’

I was pulled from my thoughts when I had just noticed Alton calling out to me. It was startling, but it was more so confusing as I couldn’t believe myself that I didn’t hear him the first time.

“Yes?” I called out back.

He turned his head and looked to his peripheral, “Whatever happens, don’t do anything stupid.”

‘Anything stupid?’ “ I repeated, confusingly. “Why do you say that?”

“I have a growing feeling that this place is going to be a lot worse than when I remembered it to be since I left.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Should I be worried?”

He shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head, turning his sight back onto the dirt path, “That’s up to you. I’m just saying it now, just in case something really does spring up. Better to be safer than sorry.”

I looked up from the forest that was to the right of the cart, where I had sat staring into it. Behind me were rolling hills and grasslands. I had turned my head to my left where my eyes followed the dirt path until I couldn’t see it anymore, where Teurin stood. It was a collective of buildings that gave off a beautiful and warm welcome.

Though it gave me an uneasy feeling upon the warning that Alton gave me, as it was realistically the first time I saw him this anxious over something. It again put into perspective that I was the child, and he was the parent, and when a child looks up to an anxious parent, no good can come out of it.

I spooked myself in asking, “And what if something does happen? Any plans?”

A short moment of silence came up before he had answered.

“If something happens, I have a couple of people I can rely on here. That’s just hoping they are willing to take us in. Nice food is already a rare commodity here, and space is precious —and trust me when I say, we’d be lucky if they even let us in.”

A small chill went down my spine upon hearing that.

Gee, some help, huh?

He continued on, angling his head to the side to which I saw a smile, “…and if worse comes to worst, then we have horses.”

Yikes…

“Tell me somethin’... does this happen often? Your instinct tellin’ you that you might have a bad time?” I asked.

He sat still, looking forward and shrugged his shoulders, “Occasionally. Some parts of the world are just like this. Nothin’ you can really do about it.”

“And you still go to those parts?”

He sighed a deep breath out, and paused.

“Someday, Liam, you too will experience this same feeling —and of course, you’ll ask yourself, ‘Why might I be doing this?’ or ‘Why am I still pushing forward?’ “ he stopped a moment and continued on, “…and then you’ll come to find those answers yourself. A man’s instinct is the sharpest tool in the box. Often times you’ll think about using it, or you might not even realize you’ve been using it all this time… one thing will lead to another, and you’ll get careless and cut yourself.”

Another pause happened, but this time it was a lot longer.

“A wayfarer has it worse out for him. For his box is full of tools that are the dullest and weakest than others might be. So, he resorts to using his instinct.”

He turned his head to which I saw the side of his face, and his eye looking at me, “Remember this: the wayfarer is possibly the blindest person one can ever be.”

Curious, I asked, “How so?”

He turned to look forward, “Simply because he is a wayfarer. He has no recognition of his surrounding. He cannot rely on the local folk, and so he lives by himself. He scrapes by what he can to get every bit of information… to learn the people’s history. To learn their manners, culture, and style of living. Anything he hears can’t be taken lightly and into the heart. He can trust no one but himself. Almost every tool in his box is worthless, and might even be more dangerous than the most efficient one; he is blind.”

I stopped myself from responding to take in what he said. Compared to everything he had said to me before since we met, this was the most genuine. It seemed to contain little more than a speech, but this I knew, it was from his heart.

He took in a deep breath and spoke up again while breathing out, “You don’t have to trust my instinct. After all, that’s why we are all born with it. You have yours, so put it to use… but know that many a time you will cut yourself in doing so, as I have. But always understand, Liam, that a cut is better than being killed.”

The words echoed in my head. I didn’t know what to do with them; whether or not to be understanding or nervous for the future.

I looked back up to my left and saw the growing closure we were making towards Teurin. For the rest of the trip, all was silent except the hooves of horses and the blowing breeze of mother nature.