But why?! Why do you care?? (ch9)

Synopsis: Madga flees from the wrath of an angry horse god. To her shock and terror a Suuroo warrior comes to her rescue.

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Madga burst through the bushes, chest heaving. She ducked too late and the low branch of a needle-tree scraped across her cheek.

She kept running.

A cry, followed by a deep thud that reverberated through the forest. The shock wave caused her to miss-step and she fell on a rotting log. Moss had covered it in a thick layer and when she fell the wood turned to mush. Tiny bugs scattered.

Panting, she scrambled to her hands and knees, and looked back.

A red glow watched her from the eyes of a large horse. Thick limbs pawed the ground, scrapping the dirt and crushing mushrooms. He glared from between the branches of two trees, flakes of bark scattered on the ground around them.

With a toss of his head the horse gave another shrill cry. He brandished his long front teeth and turned.

Madga didn’t wait to see if he was done with her; she pushed to her feet and ran.

Another thud and her heart hammered into her chest. She didn’t look back, but cried out when a sharp cracking assaulted her ears. A softer, yet still heavy thud followed as one of the larger trees fell, their branches touching and snapping others’.

The sound of thudding hooves overshadowed everything.

Madga’s voices was high and thin as she gasped in air. The ground shook under her feet and she nearly miss-stepped. Something scrapped her thigh but kept running, darting between densely growing trees and brush.

“Where-” she gasped in air, “Where-”

Her eyes shifted around, searching, searching- there! Her heart soared.

Hot breath heated her cheek and teeth snapped down just above her shoulder.

She inhaled and jumped to the side, jostling the undergrowth as she fell. The branches danced into their original position over top her and she used the cover to crawl toward a fallen tree. It had wedged itself between two others low to the ground. She scrambled underneath just as the horse’s teeth snapped on empty air.

The spirit ran around the trees, trampling smaller plants and a mouse. Madga scrambled back again. He lowered his head and tried snapping at her from the other side but she was out of reach. He screamed and she covered her ears with a whimper.

They repeated the switch a few more times, and each time the horse grew angrier. With his hind legs he kicked one of the branches of the living tree, snapping a few and causing Madga to cry out.

Suddenly he stopped. Madga didn’t move. A moment later he lowered his head and glared at her. They were wide, and although they no longer resembled a horse’s, she could still feel his gaze on her. Her heart beat loud between her ears.

A sudden scream cut through the air and Madga jumped. The spirit’s head snapped up, his ears rotating as he listened. Another scream followed, this time in a slightly different direction.

The horse glanced at Madga’s hiding place before taking off toward the sound, ears flat against his head in his everlasting anger.

Madga didn’t move, listening as she sucked in air.

“Psst.”

She jumped and spun, her eyes flickering around. Someone peeked out from behind a tree and waved for her to follow.

She glanced the way the horse had left. Nothing moved. Another pause and she turned to join them, careful to not make much noise.

A warrior stepped out from behind the tree and led the way. Her long blond hair was tied up in a braid around her head to avoid snagging on the trees. Madga’s tired knees nearly gave in at the sight.

The warrior noticed when she slowed. She quickly gestured again for Madga to follow. Too afraid to run into the horse again, and realizing where she was taking her, Madga reluctantly followed the Suuroo.

The first of the ring of trees became more recognizable. Although not like the giant trees of EreTaam, nor as big as mother-trees, they were thicker and taller than the rest of the forest. The first sat squat, while the one next to it rose high toward the sky. Both helped each other to reach, but also competed against each other for, the sunlight above the canopy.

Her heart calmed at the sight of the sanctuary. An animal path led to the space between the two trees, which were nearly as thick as a small round house.

With the safety of the sanctuary at hand her feet suddenly grew tired. They scrapped the ground and she nearly fell again. She reached out to a much smaller tree, snapping a sapling in the process.

The thundering returned.

Her breath caught in her throat as she watched as the nearby leaves trembled. The horse screamed somewhere in the forest. The sound of snapping wood further warned of his return.

Someone grabbed her by the arm. Madga whirled with a punch that ended against the flat of a palm.

Brown eyes met her. “This way!”

The Suuroo warrior tugged again but let go and ran for the sanctuary. She hardly made a sound as she dashed through the woods. Madga followed closely behind, making too much noise by contrast. The horse cried out again and the woman glanced back to check on her.

Madga caught a flash of light brown just before ducking into the ring of trees. It wasn’t a perfect ring and allowed them through, just as the water cupped between two hands will leak out.

The horse screamed. Loud thud followed as Madga reached the centre. She spun, panting and backing away from the noise.

“We’re safe. We’re safe here, Madga.”

She turned at the sound of her name. The woman had her hands raised in peace.

Madga’s brow creased. She glanced over her, feeling something familiar about her, but another thud shook the forest. With a gasp her focus returned to the threat.

The Suuroo stepped closer and Madga’s eyes darted to her.

She stopped. “I promise, you’re safe.”

“But- the spirit....”

“I know,” she said with a calm, but firm voice. “And I know he’s angry. But he can’t get in here. He should respect that this is a sanctuary, but even if he doesn’t, these trees are too thick for him to break. He will leave soon and calm down.”

The corners of her eyes burned. She shook her head. “I don’t understand why he’s so angry at me.”

The woman hesitated.

Heavy hooves stomped over the ground and Madga squeaked.

She tensed as the woman picked up her spear she had tossed on the ground earlier. She shifted into a slight crouch, carefully eyeing the dark spaces between the trees. Her head turned, keeping her left ear toward the forest as she slowly walked around.

Another thud and the woman ducked, but her hands firmly held onto the spear.

A great thunder of hooves followed, quickly fading into the dark

They listened for a long moment. A bird called from high above, and leaves rustled in a breeze.

The woman released a breath as she straightened. She shifted her spear to one hand, holding it like a walking stick. She smiled at Madga.

Madge’s knees wobbled and her legs finally gave out. The woman rushed forward but she couldn’t catch her before she hit the ground, releasing a rush of air like someone had punched it from her lungs.

The woman kneeled next to her, cooing and looking over her, but Madga asked, “He’s gone- he’s gone?”

The woman nodded. “We’re safe. You are safe.”

Madga’s gaze flickered over her and her blond hair. Her brows furrowed.

The woman removed her hands from Madga’s back and shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“...Ress?” Madga asked.

Ress’ worry melted. She smiled in relief. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you again, Madga.” The corner of her lips twitched. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

Madga felt a little bubble of laughter in her chest but it didn’t grow beyond that. She nodded without thinking.

She looked around, squinting into the dark. The canopy of trees allowed very little star or moonlight through.

Ress hummed, misinterpreted her narrowed eyes. “It is looking a little sad, isn’t it?” she said, referring to the sanctuary. She made a noise in her throat and rose to her feet. “Why don’t I get a fire going and we can see about cleaning it up.”

Madga’s limbs felt heavy but she nodded.

After a pause, she inhaled. “My things!”

“Sorry?” Ress said in the dark.

Her mind spun. “Uh, he was chasing me and I couldn’t- I dropped everything and ran.”

“Okay,” Ress said with confidence. “While I light the fire tell me everything you had: I’ll go look for them.”

Madga hesitated, but she began describing her bag and spear. She tried to guess the direction she had left them but struggled to recount the path she had fled.

The small fire steadily grew as Ress blew on it. A previous visitor had chopped up a fallen branch and left it for others. Ress took a few pieces of wood and added it to the the fire. Next to the wood was a Reygo metalshaped axe, also left for use in the sanctuary.

“Can you tend to the fire while I look for your things?”

Madga blinked and looked up. Ress had risen and placed her own pack, spear, and shield against one tree. She waited patiently for Madga’s answer.

“I can.”

“Good. I’ll be back shortly.”

Madga’s heart leapt. “Wait! Wh-what about the spirit?”

To her surprise, Ress smiled and winked. “I’ll be fine. I won’t make a sound, I promise.”

She left, disappearing between the doors of the sanctuary and into the dark. Madga strained to listen but couldn’t hear her footsteps or the sound of the trees brushing against her.

She sat back with a quite sigh. After a moment she swallowed, rubbed her eyes, and set to coaxing the fire.

Gradually the flames grew higher, flickering warm, and full of life. Light and shadow danced across the great expanse of the surrounding tree trunks, illuminating a chain of flowers around one, and more hanging from the low branches of another.

Flowers were growing near the trunk of one tree, lovingly tended to by visitors. Next to them, and the stones around the fire, were offerings. Some were highly decorated, but ultimately useless, weapons like daggers, or small shields.

There were a few dolls made from bone, or wood, in the shape of a woman and a man. The wife and husband had been laid close to each other. Commonly they were undecorated and no features to distinguish them. But given the location of the sanctuary between Wrysal and Kasst, Madga knew they were likely the Mother and Father gods of Wrysal: Mvansah and Funrrah.

Imagery of animals, nature, life and death, were found around the sanctuary. The homely comforts of cups, food dishes, and blankets rested on a stone slab table. What wasn’t made from wicker were adorned with flames and people, welcoming the Kasst spirit Tommoh. The much more detailed figures of an ancestor goddess stood by a few of the entrances to the sanctuary, protecting Kasst travellers in name only.

Some baubles in the shapes of animals hung from more branches. More figures rested against other trees. Several horses were among them. The strength in their legs was clear in the ones carved from wood or bone.

The tips of her fingers grew cold despite the warmth of the fire. She looked down at them to see that they were stained with pink, and suddenly remembered the berries she had been picking before the spirit appeared. She turned them over and with a small jolt saw a few little cuts on her palms, only now beginning to hurt as she calmed and had time to think. Her cheek stung; she had likely gained a cut there as well while running from the horse. Her leg was fine, protected by the leggings.

While the fire crackled peacefully she shifted to grab her water and a cloth, but stopped when she remembered they were missing. Instead she rose and grabbed another few sticks, adding them to the fire.

She glanced over the sanctuary again, until her gaze landed on a clay jar by the table.

Her eyes lit up. She glanced around but Ress hadn’t come back yet. She stepped toward the jar, leaning down to pick it up. It was a bit bigger than a cup and had a comfortable weight to it.

Lines of water flowed around its thick bottom and centre. Simple animals danced in and above the water design. She brushed her thumb over the ridges and dips, and a sharp pain stabbed her heart. She swallowed and rubbed her lips together. She sniffed and lifted the lid, which came away with the familiar, sharp sound of the clay pieces rubbing against each other.

Inside were a mix of nuts and dried fruit. She was surprised a bear, squirrel, or spirit hadn’t claimed them already. Tipping the jar, she claimed a handful for herself before awkwardly replacing the lid as the jar sat against her chest and chin. She replaced it where she had found it, and sat by the warm fire where she leaned back against the table to munch on the berries and nuts.

She jolted awake. Her head wiped around even as her eyes blinked away the post-nap haze.

Motion caught her eye—she turned to see Ress step into the sanctuary. She seemed to make more noise entering than she had leaving.

Ress greeted her with a smile and shifted her pack off her shoulder.

“This was all I could find. I hope it’s everything.”

Madga’s eyes widened as she accepted the pack. She quickly opened it and dug in, checking to ensure she hadn’t lost anything. She quietly sighed in relief.

A small breeze made the fire and light dance.

“Don’t forget this.”

Madga looked up. Ress had sat down at the table and was holding the spear she had walked in with.

Madga accepted it with care. She ran her hands along its smoothed surface. The carved branches, or lighting bolts, hadn’t been harmed in anyway, and the bone head still remained.

“Who made it?” Ress asked as she pulled out her water. “It’s beautiful. And not only that, but practical too.”

Madga laid the spear on the ground. “I don’t know. …I found it.”

Ress’ brows rose as she took a drink. “Really?” She passed the waterskin.

Madga hesitated, but accepted the water. She nodded and took a sip.

“Well, it’s a remarkable find. Does it have a name?”

“Ah… no. I haven’t…. I can’t think of a name that fits.”

Ress’ gazed lowered in thought. After a moment of hesitation, Madga shuffled on her hands and knees to retrieve the clay jar. She offered it to Ress, who paused in her thoughts and accepted it with a kind smile.

Ress’ eyes briefed upon the jar’s design but she didn’t comment on it. She chewed on a small handful of the nuts and berries, and then hummed.

“I see what you mean. No name quite seems to fit,” she said, referring to the spear. Despite her words her brown eyes sparkled. “Well, a nameless weapon is still a good weapon. Oh!” She turned, showing more of the left side of her neck where the black image of a spear and skull had been stained. “What if we called it ‘Nameless’?”

Madga glanced away. “Um….” Instead she diverted and said, “What about the spirit? Did you see it?”

“No, I didn’t. I think he’s long gone by now. Hopefully he will calm down before anyone else walks into his path.”

Madga’s breath shakily. “I don’t understand why he was so angry. I didn’t do anything wrong. …I think?”

Ress’ brow furrowed, wrinkling the freckles there. “I’m sure you’re right.” Her thoughtful gaze turned toward the tabletop. The fire spat, sending a spark that fizzled out long before it could reach the branches above.

She said carefully, “Before I found you and the spirit, I came across three bodies.” Under Madga’s questioning gaze she shook her head. “It wasn’t a battleground. They were… druids.”

Madga inhaled through her nose. “What happened?”

“I believe the spirit happened.” Her gaze drifted away, landing on some of the horse figures. “I’ve seen the damage that a hoof can do, and I’ve seen what it looks like when a person is trapped under one. Including one the size of a bison.”

Madga’s mind flashed to the giant animals, bigger than most trees, which she had seen from a safe distance. They had been beautiful, but eerie as they migrated through the snowstorms of the plains.

Ress confirmed, “These people were killed by the spirit.” Her frown deepened. “Going by their staffs, I’d say one was a druid-magician.” She shook her head again. In a hushed voice she said, “I don’t know what this means, but it can’t be good.”

Madga’s head whirled with memories. Angry spirits, usually angry because of humans, but sometimes other animals and each other, but never enough to kill a druid. In her many years she had never heard of something like this happening.

She swallowed, and she looked at the miniature horses too.

“Do you think… do you think it was… Ricah?”

Ress’ frown turned to her. “I’m sorry?”

Madga hesitated. When Ress encouraged her to speak she said, “I’ve… heard that Ricah is Wrysal’s horse god. Do you think it was him?”

A light of understanding flared in Ress’ eyes. “Maybe. If it was then that would mean that Wrysal did something to hurt their horses,” she said, and disgust briefly flickered across her face. “Or the Kasst did.”

After a moment, Ress sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes.

Madga quietly grabbed another couple of berries from the pot.

Ress tutted and turned to her pack. She pulled out a clean cloth, a bar of soap, and then held out her palm.

“I can clean that for you if you like?” she asked.

Madga wore a confused frown. She looked at her hands and grunted, suddenly remembering the faint pain. She tentatively gave one hand to Ress, who poured a little of her water over it and gently scrubbed. She did the same with the other hand, and to her surprise she repeated the action with the scratch on her cheek. Under the motion one of the deep cuts on her hands re-opened and welled with blood. Ress wiped it away again, then scrubbed the soap and more water onto her hand. Madga hissed but didn’t pull away. Ress sent her an apologetic look as she continued to clean her hands and cheek.

At the end her hands were still red and slightly bleeding. Ress rummaged around in her pack, but Madga retrieved a rolled cloth from her bag first.

Ress’ eyes lit up. She smiled in thanks and began wrapping her hands.

Not long later Madga ran her fingers over the wrapping. It wasn’t as good as a druid-healer, but just as good as the common healers of a tribe. She carefully rubbed them together and switched to fingering the other hand wrappings. Her cheek had stopped bleeding.

“That should do,” Ress said, satisfied with her work.

“…thank you.”

Ress hummed in acknowledgement.

In the following silence Madga fidgeted. She scratched at the table with her fingernail, then fixed the tie securing her hair away from her forehead.

“I think… I think I’m going to sleep for a while.”

Ress said, “After what you just went through that sounds like a good idea.”

“Are… are you going to leave?”

Ress paused. She said, “No, I’ll keep watch. And I might get some sleep too.”

Madga glanced at her as she pulled out a bone comb. She methodically untied her braid, eventually allowing the long, thick hair to fall free. She ran her comb through it, carefully smoothing out any kinks and knots.

Madga took a deep breath and released it through her nose. She pulled out her brown wool cloak and folded it into a pillow.

***

She awoke to the sound of gentle humming. The soft noise picked her up and held her close. She fought to stay asleep, to stay with that comfort, but her body had other plans. It crawled to full consciousness and soon she was aware of the crackling fire

The smell of cooked meat tickled her nose and her eyes slid open.

Meat sizzled from inside a pan, which sat atop the flames. Using a stripped and cleaned stick, Ress reached in and shifted the meat around. If she noticed Madga was awake she didn’t say anything. She sniffed the meat before using a knife to cut off a small piece. She let it cool before popping it in her mouth. As she chewed her expression turned thoughtful. A crease formed on her brow. She turned, reaching into a cloth pouch to add dried herbs to the meat.

Madga’s mouth watered and her stomach followed up with a growl.

Her gaze flashed upwards at the same time Ress looked at her.

Ress’ surprise turned into a smile. “Hello. Sleep well?”

Madga pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Yes.”

Ress’ smile warmed. “That’s good. I had a nice rest too.”

Madga glanced at her in acknowledgement while she leaned forward to curiously look into the pan.

Ress stirred the meat again. “I caught a hare; would you like some once it’s finished?”

Madga quickly nodded before she could catch herself. Ress beamed.

Not too long later they had cleaned their hands and Madga held out her wicker plate. Ress grasped the pan with her right hand and used her left to dish out half the hare meat before feeding herself.

Madga swallowed. With her fingers she cautiously tapped the meat and waited until it was cool enough before picking up a piece. She ate and nibbled around the bone, licking her lips after every bite.

Her skin prickled and she looked up, but Ress was busy with her own meal. A frown touched Madga’s lips as she watched her. She looked away, and as she ate she glanced at the spaces between the trees.

She swallowed and exchanged the bone for a loose piece. Occasionally she felt Ress’ gaze on her again, but very time she looked up the warrior appeared engrossed in her food. Madga licked her lips and rubbed them together as she rolled strands of hare meat between her thumb and fingers. Her mind raced. She slowly picked at her food, then slowed further yet.

Ress finished long before her. She stood to stow away her empty wooden plate, but to Madga’s dismay she didn’t pack up and leave. She returned instead with her comb and a soft-purple ribbon.

Madga’s food was becoming cool to the touch, further ruining her plan. She consumed the rest and cleaned her wicker plate as best she could without immediate access to a stream. She twisted, tugging her bag closer to carefully pack her plate while reminding herself to seek out a nearby river.

With that destination on her mind, she glanced at Ress. The ribbon draped over her crossed legged as she combed her hair again. With a quiet start Madga eyed another opportunity.

She quickly checked over her bag, making sure that everything was packed away and nothing would be left behind. She grabbed her wool cloak as she stood and tucked it away as well. Without looking at Ress she shouldered her bag and retrieved the spear.

“Are you going?” Ress asked, a little surprised.

“Uh, yeah. I need to find a river.”

There was rustling and Madga’s heart beat sped up as she turned to find Ress standing up. Ress, quick but not rushed, went about collecting her things and fixing her clothes. First a well-taken-care-of leather chest piece that she snuggly tied over top her white linen tunic. Then she pulled on linen fingerless gloves, and leather pieces to protect her forearms. She retrieved her spear and small shield, attaching them to her pack before shouldering it. From between her shirt and leather chest piece she grabbed her comb, trading it for the ribbon that she had held between her teeth.

She smiled. “I can tied my hair as we walk. Which way should we go?”

Madga blinked. Air slowly escaped her open mouth.

“Are you okay, Madga?”

She inhaled, and blurted out, “Why? What are you coming with me? You don’t need to.”

Ress smiled again. “I know, but I want to.”

“But why?”

Ress’ smile turned apologetic, tinted with shame. “Because I shouldn’t have left you alone and in pain before. I’m sorry.”

Madga frowned. “I’m fine now. You don’t have to come.”

Hesitation briefly flashed across Ress’ expression, but she didn’t budge. “I don’t mind. I want to.”

A branch snapped inside Madga and her face scrunched up.

“But why?! Why do you care?? I’m a Gwae!”

The silence of the sanctuary was suddenly too thick and too much. Madga swallowed, quickly realizing she was panting. She fought to control her breathing.

Ress stared at her with a shocked expression. Madga glanced away. Her shoulders turned inward and she ducked her head.

A heavy sigh filled the space between the trees.

“Yes,” Ress said. “You are. And I’m a Suuroo. But that doesn’t define us.”

Madga looked up, her brow creased in confusion.

Ress continued, glancing away as she said, “…I once let it. When I fought against the Tasoragh I thought they were my enemies; I thought the Coo’noam were just dumb dogs; I saw the Wrysal as too close to our plains.”

She looked Madga in the eye but she had to glanced away. She raised her hands. “I can’t tell you what I thought about the Gwae. I know my wife-brother hates them. I know that some people still believe in the old stories—that they brought down the sun with the help of the goddess Gwae before hiding it in a clay pot,” she said, nearly scoffing.

She firmly shook her head. “I never thought much of those stories. And I’ve met too many people and Gwae to know better.” She paused. She looked at Madga, and spoke with a tone of doubt about her next words. “Not all of my tribe was as kind to me as they should have been because I couldn’t continue to be what they wanted, the warrior they knew I used to be. What I wanted to be again. But I’ve changed. I’ve adapted. Please, let me join you. Anyone who still blames the Gwae is blind and lives too much in the old stories.”

Madga stared in shock. Her knee bent, but she turned and stopped herself from stepping forward. She looked down at her spear, grasping it with both hands and twisting the end into the dirt. Her brown furrowed in thought.

Ress’ mouth twitched. “If we stick together, we can travel just about anywhere. Where the Gwae are hated I can speak for you, and where the Suuroo are hated you can speak for me.”

After a heavy pause, Madga looked up.

“…where are you going?”

“No where in particular.” She wore a lopsided smile.

“Oh.”

“Although, I wouldn’t mind filling up my waterskin at the next river, if you’ll have me travel with you?”

Madga glanced down. A small, kind breeze passed between the trees, petting her hair and causing the tips of the fire to dance.

She looked at Ress.

Still smiling, Ress raised her brows in question.

Madga’s chest hurt. Her feet fought to run. Then they fought to stay.

She swallowed. With a hoarse voice, she said. “O-okay.”