9. Astraea #2
“Of course I will.” He says without pause, and the heat only moves into my cheeks.
Even though he doesn’t elaborate, the tone of his words sounds like a promise.
I don’t ask anything else because I am too afraid that I will see cracks in his words.
Too afraid to think that anything other than his agreement to find her could be his true answer.
Not only that, but I can’t stand to hear his voice in my ear anymore than I have to.
Every time I do, I am accosted by the memories that were trying to fill the void my heart has always had.
It’s a reminder of the bleakest variety.
I tamp down on the tempest inside of me.
My brows furrow to a point; they may as well take up residence low on my face.
The lazy sway of the horse and the heat of Kyros’ body at my back calls sleep to me like a mother’s lullaby.
I want to refuse the fight and allow my leadened eyelids to fall closed, but I keep my heavy eyes open.
For the next stretch of time, we don’t say a word.
Every now and again Kyros has me duck down half asleep, and he crouches over my body for added protection.
As we go through a particularly thick area of trees, with the branches much lower, Kyros whispers against the shell of my ear.
“Watch your head.” My eyes flutter involuntarily at the warmth of his lips brushing against my skin.
I open my eyes a little more, and my mind tries to stir up enough energy to be attentive to the feel of him, to the landscape that is so different from what I have grown accustomed to.
The urge to ask so many questions rises again as my mind continues its steady spiral, but that timorous voice is too weak, and none are spoken aloud.
Instead, I do as I have always done. I keep my questions to myself, my arguments folded away, and my silence is the only thing I give to the night.
My head rolls to the side, and I jump awake. My eyes fly wide before I rapidly blink, trying to clear my vision of sleep. I should have been rested enough to stay awake all night, but it seems my body didn’t care. At some point I fell asleep, my head resting back onto Kyros for support.
“There’s no reason to fight it,” Kyros says barely above a whisper.
The hand at my hip slides forward to my stomach.
Not high, but high enough to cause my breath to hitch.
He stills at the sound, dropping his hand back to my hip as though he thought he only just caught himself moving it.
“All I mean is—if you’re tired, you should sleep.
The last few days have been hard for both of us.
” I want to scoff. As though that one word sums up what the hellish few days have been.
Instead, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Hoping to dispel some of the anxious energy between us.
The scent of the woods around us fill my nose and lungs.
I would have thought being this deep in a forest, so fully surrounded by trees, the air would be fresh.
There is definitely a crispness that I never felt in Eathian, but there is something else too.
Something bitter coats my tongue, and my brow furrows.
Dirt, crisp fog, and the aromatic scent of the man behind me, but a sour stench is building and clinging to the back of my throat.
Rotten.
That’s when I notice how much I can actually see.
I must have been asleep for hours, if not most of the night, and no nightmares had come for me this time.
I have no memory of monsters lingering in my mind whatsoever, but now?
Nausea makes my stomach flip as I notice what it is that is causing the bitter taste on my tongue.
My hand rises to cover my mouth as I choke on the smell.
“The Creshian forest has its own defenses to keep wanderers at bay. Though not merely a deterrent, the fungus will eat the flesh right from the bone if it’s touched.
” He reaches behind him, into the saddlebag, and hands me a scarf.
Grateful, my lip curls into a hint of a smile as I take the offering and wrap it around my head, covering my nose and mouth with the dark fabric. Kyros does the same with his scarf.
The echoes of creaking wood surround us as we walk through the rotting wood forest. The sound is as though the trees themselves are moaning out a cry of pain.
The pines become fewer in number and smaller in size the longer we ride.
The needle-covered branches that once reached for the sky are now thin, letting a patchwork of brightening purple sky show through.
The low-hanging clouds change from the darkest indigo to areas of swirling pink as the sun begins to rise.
“Have we made it to the Creshian Forest?” I ask, risking a glance up at Kyros. He nods; his expression is unreadable beyond his dark eyes as his nose and mouth stay covered. He keeps his gaze trained forward.
“Almost…” He says. The horse chuffs, slowing as we trek further through the eerie hellscape.
Apprehension hangs in the air as both we and the forest seem to hold our breath, waiting for what is to come.
The forest begins opening up more; fallen branches, decaying stumps, and blackened vines spiderweb across the ground and climb up the thick trunks, suffocating the trees in death's embrace.
My heart quickens as the rot only seems to get worse. Where is he taking me?
“Is the Creshian Forest safe?” I ask, hesitant to look over my shoulder at Kyros again. His brow furrows before he meets my eyes.
“You’ll be safe.” He doesn’t say more than that, but the look in his eyes seems to say that he would like to.
He audibly swallows whatever it was, though, and nods, gesturing for me to look ahead.
Just beyond the tainted forest, flecks of deep and vibrant green become visible as a veil seems to be lifted.
Sunshine of bright golden rays filters through dust particles; blacks turn to rich browns, and moldy and rotten greens become alive where the light touches.
The dull coloring becomes vibrant everywhere the eye can see.
The sun’s rays themselves seem to dance with the dust and glitter through the air as we part the particles with our entrance.
An essence greeting us like a lover’s caress.
Kyros drops his face covering, looking down at me as we seem to step into a new world entirely.
“The Creshian Forest.” He says, voice thick, as he watches me and my astonishment at seeing this magickal view of something, once again entirely new, for the first time.