091

The cart bumped along the dusty road. The two figures in the back of the wagon lay still, only moving when the wagon encountered exceptionally large ruts. Then the two prone figures would groan and adjust their positions slightly, desperately trying to soften the impact of the next jostle. The figure with the black hat draped over his eyes groaned loudest of all.

The two figures in the front of the wagon sat silently watching the road. The woman held the reigns loosely in her hands, gently guiding the horses into as many ruts as possible. The man beside her watched the progress of the wagon with a slight smile on his face. The smile felt strange to him, like porcelain thawing. He has spent too long alone, a lone guardian, and moments like these had only been vague hints in his dreams.

He had tried to present softness to those around him but on the inside was made of stone. A tool for an age, alone for an age, he sat at the front of the wagon and wanted to thaw. Had those years hardened him into the weapon that was necessary? Had the slow pressure of time forged him into steel of a sufficient strength for what lay ahead? He thought of the ruts on the road and refused to think of the future.

“I felt you scrying last night.” Cytheria flicked the reigns slightly as the wagon lurched out of a dip in the road. Perun said nothing in reply. “You didn’t finish, but I could feel the power, I’m sure Kwyn could as well. It was nice.”

“What was?”

“Being that close to it again.”

“You’ve stayed away.”

“For a long time. I turned away from all of it. I tried to fade away. But feeling it again, it was like a breath of home.”

The both sat silently for a while. Perun waited for Cytheria to continue.

“Has much changed?”

“Yes,” Perun replied, “I believe that new powers are awakening. The field is changing.”

The man in the back seat smiled beneath his broad black hat as the wagon traveled down the dusty road. The field is indeed changing.