Midway through the journey, his grip tightened on the shaft, his teeth ground against each other, his breathing quickening. His knuckles ached, bone-white from the force of his grip. The anger he'd tempered began bubbling up. He was a volcano, about to erupt destructively.
"Wind thou through this way, turning left, then righ—"
"Look, I—" His voice cracked, the darkness hiding his tears. "I just need… a moment…"
He gently lowered the shaft and silently walked behind a tree on the side of the pathway—the puzzled women looked at each other.
He let out a long sigh, his back slowly sliding down the trunk to a sitting position, drowning his head in hand. Tears flowed and sobs jolted his body, finally releasing the torrent of stress and fury.
Their concerns amplified, clutching the cloak at their chests.
Oh man… He rubbed his temple, tears a steady flow. What bad timing—crying in front of them like this…
He quickly wiped his tears, yet his eyes produced more.
Should've done this… after dropping them off. Ah, fuck me.
He let out a silent whistle, then another, then a few more.
Come on, you're concerning them.
He sniffled again, wiping away.
That's right… That's right…
He began to calm down, forcing normalcy upon himself.
His head rested on the trunk, facing the branches and the sky behind them, letting out a final, long exhale.
Okay… Okay… Damn it.
He stood up and walked back to the cart with his head lowered.
"I-I'm ready… now…"
He picked up the shaft, shoved the cart forward, and continued onward toward the kingdom.
* * *
Another hour after his emotional release, he spotted a stone pavement through the towering trees and people going to and fro. Street lanterns lit elves—men pulling carts—and an odd, otherworldly creature hauling multiple carriages.
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?
His jaw dropped at a creature with a velociraptor's torso and waist, while its head and fur were that of a parrot—a parrotraptor.
As he pulled the cart onto the stone path, he heard gasps and the screech of brakes. Before he could turn the cart toward the kingdom gate, swift metallic footsteps approached him.
"Ho there!"
An elven guard held a spear, his pointy ears bounced with each step.
"What treachery is this?" he gestured at his load. "Who be these women? Speak!"
"I-These women are—I mean, were captured, sir. I saved—rescu—I mean, I liberated them, sir, from a camp just ways away in the mountain— N-No, not mountain, in the forest. Haaah. Look, just ask any one of them behind me."
The guard blinked, shifting his gaze to the women. "Speak plain! Is't truth he utters?"
Oh boy, look at them all staring at me. Please, just go about your day…
"Yes, truth he speaks." Another woman's voice spoke, not the one who gave him directions.
The other women nodded in agreement.
Wow, just four words.
"So be it. Thou may'st enter. I trust thou hast brought the cart for their ease. Leave it without."
Leave it without, he did—parking it against the wall by the kingdom's arched entrance.
Oswald entered the kingdom with the women, his narrow mind refusing to take in the details.
"I will lead you all back home, just for my own reassurance. Give me directions and I'll drop you all off, one by one."
One after another, women guided him through the winding streets.
At the first door, it was answered by a weary husband. His exhaustion vanished in a heartbeat, as he sobbed and crushed his wife in an embrace. At the next, a little elven girl's shriek of 'Mama!' echoed down the lane as she jumped over to her mother's arms.
He became a ghost in the background—a third wheel, a silent witness to a dozen different versions of the same heart-wrenching scenes. Each reunion was a fresh wave of tears, laughter, and clinging—never letting each other go. He saw the moment a father's stiff posture melted away as he hugged his daughter. He heard the raw, joyous weeping of friends reunited. He just stood there, his own pent-up stress slowly unwinding as he delivered them back into the arms of those who longed for them.
Finally, there was one—the very same woman that gave him directions. He followed her lefts and rights, his gaze lowered as he wiped tears with one hand.
Man, I-I have nothing to say.
"Turn on the right, and forward hold thy path."
He held forward until.
"Hold here."
What?
He looked up. He found himself in a plaza under street lanterns with benches encircling a fountain.
"H-Hold here? But this is the plaza."
"I will hence depart alone."
Depar— I see.
"Understood. Be safe."
She passed him, his perception revealing pointy ears.
Huh, she was an elf. Go figure.
He turned around.
I'm gonna head back.
* * *
He used the landmarks he'd noted on his way to retrace his path. Along the snaking path, he found himself back at the men's camp. The campfire that had crackled and danced was now dead and the cage door still stood open.
His gaze fell where he had tied up the men—only a trail leading deep into the forest remained.
"Heh. You reap what you sow, motherfuckers."
He continued through the camp toward the clearing outside the cabin—the journey between them a blur.
His hand met the face-height doorknob of the ten-foot door.
He turned around one last time, taking in the luminous insects and flowers before stepping inside.
###
End of Chapter 1
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