Woven : Road Outside Town (Night)

Wordcount: 855
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: The weaver and the teacher get along, sort of.

NOTE: This is a very rough draft with no editing at all (per National Novel Wiriting Month rules) and is presented for amusement value only. Think of it as a periscope into my writing process rather than a coherent story!

There will most likely be spelling and grammatical errors afoot as well as flat out bad writing, info dumps, plot holes, contradictions/retcons, uneven characterization and pacing. These snippits are also posted out of order, so please refer to the story page to figure out where it’s supposed to fit.

~*~*~*~*~

Road Outside Town (Night)

The man helps her make camp where they are, assuming that the villagers will leave her alone at this point. There isn’t a lot of travel in the area, so they shouldn’t have to worry about anyone else showing up. It’s a very basic camp as neither of them really brings much with them.

They talk a bit about the status of the empire and the various factions that are vying for control in the capital. There are also some movement within the weavers, but they are mostly out of context for the things going on around them. There is a movement to keep new children from being implanted by the spiders, although for the most part folks realize how much worse off they would be without the spiders.

The weaver doesn’t care much, and the teacher is frustrated at her indifference.

~*~*~*~

“You can come out now,” the weaver didn’t look up from where she had crouched. “Unless you mean to do us harm.”

The man came out of the wood line carefully, unarmed and slightly alarmed. he was wearing the clothing of a herald, the voice of the kingdoms rulers. He had been too far away to interfere with the fight and she sensed no threat from him. She did wonder why he hadn’t moved to interfere, but perhaps he’d assumed she could care for herself.

“Can I–”

“There is a tea in my bag that will help draw down the poison, if you could build a fire I would appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He moved immediately to start clearing a fire circle in the path. He didn’t make a move to come nearer, probably because of the way little sister was still posturing, and glowing. She tried to calm her own thoughts, but she was still running on adrenaline and the sharp tang of anger. She tried not to think about him, focusing on calming her thoughts.

Soon enough the teacher had a small fire going and he moved towards her pouch, to try and get the supplies she needed.

Little sister reared back with a high pitched whistle and the weaver leaved away from the teacher in alarm. “Get back! Are you crazy?”

“Sorry, sorry” The teacher moved back to the far side of the fire. “I thought you needed help.”

“You’ve made the fire, it’s enough.” She moved to pull out the things she needed from he bag, but her hands were shaking too much to be able to focus on such a delicate task.

“Let me help, please?”

She frowned in annoyance and the little sister started tensing to spring onto the possibly attacker. She moved away from the bag, slowly, and tried to calm her thoughts.

The teacher moved in as soon as she was far enough away and proceeded to make the tea. He placed her mug went it was full and moved away from it so that she could shift back to drink.

The tea, although hot, felt cold when she drank it and immediately she could feel the venom start to leech away. She would need to drink a lot of water later, in order to replace the fluids she had lost, but for now the tea would at least restore the balance between blood and venom in her veins.

There is nothing else to be done, except wait and she watched the teacher across the fire.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I know that.”

The teacher was calmer around her than most people had been and she felt ironically like trying to scare him, just to get the normal reaction. She tamped down on the urge and sipped the tea. The little sister had settled somewhat, although she got no benefit from the tea, the fact that the weaver was calming reduced her defensive instincts.

“Then why are you staying?”

“It would feel wrong to just leave you.” The herald settled back on his heels. “And I can still help. The town won’t be hurt if I delay my arrivals for a bit.”

“So no news?” Because there had been some worry about rebellion earlier in the year. Nothing had since been said, but she also hadn’t had a really chance to talk to a herald since then.

“Nothing worth hurrying over. The Dukes are as unstable as ever and the king is as stubborn. There won’t be a change there for a long time coming.” He poked the fire with stick making the sparks dance on the wind. “Besides by the time something happens word of mouth will spread it faster than the Heralds.” He made a face. “We aren’t always the best source of news.”

There was the world web, of course. A war would cause a large enough disturbance that she would be able to feel it, no matter where she was in the kingdom, but smaller rebellions would be so faint it would be hard to tell. Still, there were massager hawks that few faster than horses could run, and if things came to it she had no doubt the birds would see to it that the message was spread.

Martha Bechtel

My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!

Leave a Reply