Zoe awoke to a rough tap on her shoulder. She had slept with nothing but a satchel under her head as a pillow, and her neck and spine seemed to hurt in ways she never thought were possible.
“It’s time to wake up,” a voice commanded, giving her another stern poke.
Remembering where she was, Zoe clamored to her feet- and immediately regretted it. Her morning nausea had yet to subside. She took a few steps before falling to her knees, retching the small dinner she’d eaten the night before.
She wiped the back of her dirty hand across her mouth, trying to remove all remnants of spittle and bile.
Her mind drifted to the luxurious hot spring baths in the temple; how the lavender suds and warm steam seemed to cleanse her pores effortlessly. Her skin itched with how much she wanted it. But that was her old life. The baths, the offerings, the safety, the meals- they were gone now. Her creature comforts were the price of her freedom, and it was a price she was willing to pay.
She laid back onto the damp forest floor, groaning in the process, until she felt a leather waterskin against her cheek.
Despite the hood covering her face, Zoe could hear Damalia’s voice perfectly. “Rinse your mouth out and replenish your fluids.”
Zoe could tell the waterskin was reluctantly given, but she took it gratefully nonetheless. The water was cold and clear and she had never tasted anything better.
“Thank you,” she whispered after drinking her fill.
“I brought some bread,” the woman replied. “If you think you can handle it.”
Zoe nodded. “I’d like to try.”
“If you need more time to rest, we can break our journey up into three days rather than two.”
The ex-maiden shook her head. “I’m in my first trimester, my ankles are not so swollen yet.”
The woman, Damalia, proffered a slender, white arm to help her stand. Zoe grabbed her by the elbow and hoisted herself up.
“Remember to stay behind me,” Damalia ordered sternly in her smokey voice. “And let me know if you need a break.”
She walked ahead, then adjusted her cloak ever-so slightly; probably moving it above her eyes to see clearly through the forest. Zoe was tempted to peek, but resisted the urge.
-
The only time they stopped during the day was to drink and snack on bread. They waited until nightfall before settling down and starting a fire.
Damalia gingerly removed a cloth from her satchel. Wrapped inside were speckled brown eyes, which she placed directly on the fire.
“They cook quickly and it will be good for us to get some protein,” she explained.
Her face was once again covered by her cloak as she moved. She must have had substantial practice wearing it for how easily she walked with her vision obscured.
When the eggs were finished cooking, she proffered one to the maiden.
“There’s no salt, so you’ll have to eat it plain.”
Lack of sunlight had caused a considerable chill to befall the forest, so they shuffled closer to the fire and each other for warmth. Damalia cracked her egg roughly against the rock she was sitting on and brought bits to her mouth under her hood.
Zoe cleared her throat to break the silence. “You don’t need to hide your face from me while you eat. You are my saviour, I could hold no judgement against you.”
“No,” was her monosyllabic reply.
“Have you only shown your face to Ava then?” Zoe asked curiously.
The brunette was stunned by the silence of her traveling companion. “Wait,” she started slowly, “have you not even shown it to her?”
“It is not your business,” Damalia replied curtly. She didn’t sound offended by the question; her tone was even and almost bored in nature.
Zoe decided to persist. “You may not be able to see the way Ava looks at you, but it’s like you hung the stars. I’ve never seen her look at someone with that much fondness.”
Again, she was met with no reply. Did she really not care that Ava was so attached to her?
Annoyed by the silence, Zoe decided to push the issue further. “Do you not love her too, that you’re unwilling to expose yourself?”
“The less we talk the better,” she snapped. “I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to us.”
Zoe surveyed the forest around them. It was completely desolate. The only other noises were the crackling of the fire and chirping songs of crickets.
“I’m sorry for pushing the issue,” she backtracked. “I’d just like to get to know you better.”
“Why?” the taller woman shrugged. “After this journey, you will never see me again.”
It was a fair question to ask. “Other than wanting to know my liberator? You seem important to Ava. I may not have been close to her, but I know she’s special. I guess I’m curious to know what makes you so special to her.”
For the first time, the woman let out a short chuckle. “Yes, I’d like to know that myself.”
Having finished her egg, Zoe crumpled the shell and tossed it over her shoulder. She slid off her rock and leaned into a more comfortable position. “Have you ever thought about taking her away from the temple?”
“To leave her alone somewhere? No. Ava is brave, but not as self-reliant as you. I doubt she would fare well by herself.”
“You wouldn’t have to leave her alone. You seem to have the means and resources to go togeth--”
“No,” she was cut off. “It’s better that she stays at the temple.”
Zoe tilted her head. “Is it? She’s not treated especially well there.”
“None of the maidens are, yet you decided to stay until you were forced to leave,” Damalia countered.
“Yes, but I’m glad to be doing it. That I have even the smallest chance to start a life with Cephalus.”
“And you really think he’ll come for you?” Damalia asked skeptically. Ava had been convinced her lover would return, but her traveling partner seemed to be more of a pessimist (or realist) about the matter.
“If he returns from that awful war, I believe so. Many want to escape Arlen because the docked soldiers are so horrible. Cephalus doesn’t want to stay; he has a gentle heart.” She smiled fondly at her memories of them together. “It may have been silly to have my tryst, but it’s hard not to be enraptured by someone so pure.”
Damalia sighed. “Yes, I know the feeling.”
Their conversation for the rest of the evening remained inconsequential, discussing nothing serious for the rest of the night. The remainder of their voyage passed similarly. Damalia wasn’t completely silent anymore, but their conservations were short and idle.
It took two more days of traveling until they stumbled across a small stone cottage, which was almost invisible in the blackness of night.
Damalia pulled her hood down securely over her face before turning towards Zoe again. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”
Zoe looked with wide eyes. “This is all for me?”
Damalia nodded. “It has been abandoned for a long time. You're likely to only find a few necessities inside.” The lithe woman once again reached into her satchel. This time she pulled out a small velvet bag and placed it in her palm. “Here are some gold coins. The village of Castor is a fifteen minute walk due north. You’ll see it when you walk above the hill half a mile from here.”
Zoe had never seen so much money in her life. “And you’ve lived in Castor before?”
Damalia made a non-commital noise. “I’ve lived near it before. It’s a small town, so no one should bother you here. There is a temple to the god Melatius in the center of the village. They do not specialize in labor, but they will give you shelter if needed and can provide additional help with the delivery of your child.”
No words could express the gratitude that had bubbled up in Zoe’s chest. She sprung forward and embraced her guide tightly. “Thank you, thank you so much,” she whispered into the fabric urgently. “Thank you for giving me this chance. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“It’s nothing,” she shrugged. “I only-”
“Well isn’t this sweet,” a deep voice hissed, cutting her off.
The women quickly broke apart their hug and turned to find the source of the noise. The cottage door was opened and a disheveled man was standing in the frame. He reeked of alcohol and body odor.
“I hate to burst your bubble ladies,” he hiccuped, “but someone already lives here.”
Zoe cowered at his unexpected presence, but Damalia took a bold step forward. “This home does not belong to you. I knew the previous owner, they left it to no one upon their death.”
“Well I found it and it’s mine,” the brute slurred. “Though I could let you stay here for a price. “
“Oh?” Damalia replied, voice filled with annoyance.
“Yep. That friend of yours is awfully pretty,” he pointed a grimy finger at Zoe, who only crouched further within herself.
Damalia’s voice became several octaves lower. “Leave now and never return to this place.”
“Or what?” he laughed to himself. "I can tell she wants it." Without warning, he lunged at Zoe, who let out a squeal.
“Look away and get down!” Damalia screeched.
Zoe could do little more than obey. She fell to her knees and covered her eyes. All she could hear were the man's desperate screams and the feeling of warm liquid spattering her arms.
She squinted her eyes open. Blood. The warm liquid that speckled her arms was blood. She tilted her neck upwards and came nose to nose with the man. Unlike before his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Where his neck should have been, there was nothing but a gaping hole. She had never seen something so horrific in her life. Her stomach curdled at the sight. She took a shuddering breath as she leaned forward and heaved, unable to form a coherent thought.
Damalia stood upright with her back facing her. Her hood was completely pulled down and breath was raspy as she shook with anger.
“Wh-what are you?” Zoe managed.
“Have you already forgotten?” the woman replied darkly. “I am your saviour.”
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