Fortitude part 8

After walking for a solid twenty minutes, Amana and Warren broke through the tree line of the Poisonbottom Woods. Warren's bird, whose name Amana still didn't know, flew down to settle on his shoulder. It's intelligent eyes turn to Amana and gaze at her, almost knowingly.

"This way," Warren said, leading her to the right. A short distance away there was a group of men and horses loitering around a campfire, about five men and six horses. They didn't notice Amana and Warren as they approached. "Men!' Warren called from the edge of the camp, his voice suddenly deeper and gruffer. The men jumped to attention, those who had been sitting on the ground leaping to their feet. They all seemed to be a little older than Warren, but that may just be due to their weathered faces and rough-looking exteriors. They all stared at Amana, shamelessly wide-eyed. She suddenly felt awkward and self-conscious. After all, she was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt sporting a band logo across the front. The men, including Warren, were all dressed in dark, earthy-colored tunics and pants tucked into high topped boots. A few of them were wearing capes. One even had what looked like a bow and a quiver of arrows across his back. Amana looked closer and realized that all of the men had leather belts around their waists and bladed weapons of varying sizes strapped to said belts. The whole situation was like something out of a Renaissance fair.  

"Um..." Amana looked around uncertainly, "Now I know I'm definitely dreaming." She gestured to the belt she now noticed around Warren's waist, a long dagger sheathed on his right hip and a sword on his left.

"No," Warren replied, a gentle smile on his face. His demeanor seemed to change the moment she spoke to him. He was gruff with the men, but gentle with her. "I promise you are not dreaming." He looked to the group of men. The man with the bow and arrow didn't try to hide his smirk. "Let's ride," Warren said firmly, ignoring the smirk. The bird took off from his shoulder and circled the group as the men made quick work of the campsite. One stomped out the fire while the rest gathered what looked like rations and waterskins.

Warren placed his hand on the small of Amana's back and led her to the group of horses. He stopped at a beautiful black horse with a magnificently crafted saddle. "This is Sorrow," he said, stroking the horse's neck, "He'll be our ride."

"Our ride?" Amana repeated in question, emphasizing "our."

"Yes." Warren paused with a sly glance at Amana. "Unless you remember how to ride." There was a hint of teasing in his voice.

"I don't remember ever having ridden a horse before!" she insisted. It was true. She had no memory of ever riding a horse, despite Warren's implication that she had experience.

"That's why you'll ride behind me," replied Warren. He gestured for her to come close to Sorrow. "I'll mount first and you come up after me." With one foot in the stirrup, Warren swung himself up onto the horse's back in a graceful, fluid motion. He was obviously an accomplished horseman and now Amana felt even  more self-conscious than she had about her clothes. With a glance around at the men already saddled up, she put her foot in the stirrup like she had just seen Warren do. Suddenly it seemed like muscle memory took over and she swung herself up almost as gracefully as Warren had. "See? That wasn't so bad." Warren looked over his shoulder at her with a smile.

"Just drive," she answered with a roll of her eyes. Warren chuckled and spurred the horse forward. Amana wrapped her arms around Warren's slim waist and was surprised to feel nothing but muscle under his tunic. He was more fit than his outward appearance suggested.

They started forward with the rest of the men falling into formation behind them. They rode at a quick, clipped pace that Amana found slightly jarring. She didn't say anything, though, as it would have done no good to complain. At Warren's suggestion, Amana dug a loaf of bread and large piece of cheese from the saddlebag and nibbled at it one handed while they rode, her other hand never leaving Warren's waist.

After a while, when she had finished her food, Amana broke the silence. "What's the name of your bird?" she asked, glancing up as the bird flew past them.

"Her name is Mayhem," Warren said, also glancing up at his bird. "She's a gyrfalcon. She remembers you, though you probably have no memory of her." Amana wished he would just explain what was going on and why he kept saying things like that. She sighed in frustration. Warren looked over his shoulder at with with a question in his eyes.

"I don't know what's happening!" she said loudly, "I don't know if I'm dreaming or having some sort of vision. I don't know if I should be scared because I'm weirdly not right now. But I should be. There's no way this could all be happening. How do I get home? Won't my mother be worried?" Suddenly Warren pulled Sorrow to a halt and gestured for the other men to stop as well.

"Everything alright?" asked the man with the bow. He had been riding closest to them and at the call to stop he brought his horse abreast with Sorrow.

"Yes, Fallon," Warren answered, his voice low enough that only Amana and Fallon could hear. "I just need a word with Ana."

"That's another thing," Amana hissed as Warren dismounted and practically pulled her off the horse after him. "Why do you keep calling me that? That's not my name!" Without a word, Warren took her hand and led her away from the riding party. "Warren!" she shouted his name and wrenched her hand from his. He sighed and looked at her like she had slapped him.

"Everything will be explained when we get you home," he said in a voice that was similar to one you'd use when calming a frightened animal.

"I was home!" she shouted again. "You kidnapped me!"

"Please lower your voice," Warren pleaded, "And I didn't kidnap you. You walked through those trees of your own volition." This caused her to pause her next outburst.

"But..." she began. Warren held up a hand to stop her

"Did you not?"

"Well, yes. But..."

"Portals won't accept unwilling travelers," Warren said, "You wanted to go through those portals."

"But can't you explain to me what's going on?"

"This is not the place, nor is it the time." He extended a hand to her. "Everything will be explained when we get you home. Now please. We must move on." Reluctantly Amana allowed Warren to bring her back to the group and mount Sorrow once more.

*****

Hours later, when the sun was low on the horizon and Amana had had more than her fill of barren countryside, Warren pulled Sorrow to a halt. "We'll rest here," he called to the other men as he dismounted. He put his hands up to Amana and she slid off Sorrow's back and into his arms. He easily lowered her to the ground. Looking around, Amana saw a small copse of trees and a little brook to their left. The men began to gather among the trees, tying off the horses, removing the saddles, and digging through their bags for food. "It gets cold here at night," Warren said in her ear, a hand on her shoulder. "I have some warmer clothes for you if you'd like to change into them." She turned her face to his.

"Just a blanket should be fine," she said, pulling away from his hand. His look of hurt went unnoticed by her. She was a little miffed about his lack of explanation of what exactly was happening and his seeming lack of sympathy for her confusion. Throughout the entirety of the ride that day Amana didn't say a single word to Warren. And he knew she was giving him the silent treatment because the few times they stopped to stretch their legs and water the horses, Amana made a point of introducing herself to all the men, chatting with them, and ignoring Warren.

There were five men in the party other than Warren, all of them at least a couple of years older than he. Though according to all of them, Warren was the one in charge. Fallon was the one whom Amana liked best. He was Warren's second in command and oldest friend. He seemed like a jovial sort of fellow who was quick to make her smile and she appreciated his attempts. The other four men were Slater, Abbot, Jasper, and Ramsey. Slater and Abbot, she realized, were twins, though Slater had a small scar on the right side of his face, around the corner of his eye. She made a mental note about it so that she could tell them apart. Jasper was the oldest of the group by about fifteen years and his weathered face looked like it had seen a lot. His demeanor was a little gruff, but he seemed nice enough when Amana spoke to him. And finally, there was Ramsey. Ramsey had dark skin and dark eyes and, when Amana looked closer, she saw little etchings scattered across his temples, down his face and neck and on below the collar of his tunic. She had tried not to stare, but she was curious, having never seen anything like it before. All of the men nodded in hello when she introduced herself to them, but something told her they already knew her.

Amana walked over to where Slater and Abbot were starting a fire. "Are you alright, m'lady?" one of them asked. She couldn't see the right side of his face so she didn't know which one it was.

"Yes, of course," she was quick to answer, "Why?" She sat on a log by the fire

"No reason," the twin said, glancing over at his brother.

"Are you cold?" the other twin asked. He came and sat next to her and she saw that his face was unmarred, making this one Abbot.

"A little," she said with a shrug.

"You shouldn't be so hard on Warren," Slater said, still kneeing by the fire pit and poking the now blazing fire with a stick. It caught a flame and he tossed it in before he burned himself. "He's doing his best."

"He's under orders," Abbot added, "As we all are."

"I thought Warren was in charge of you," Amana said as she absently picked at the log next to her. The twins laughed dryly.

"Of us, yes," Slater said, coming to sit on the other side of his brother, "But he gets his own set of orders." Amana nodded wordlessly. Maybe she was being rude to Warren. At that moment, Jasper and Ramsey approached them, two freshly skinned rabbits in Jasper's hand.

"We caught dinner," Ramsey said in his smooth, slightly accented voice as Jasper threaded sticks through the rabbits and began roasting them over the fire.

"Good. I'm starving." Slater's tone was playful.

Amana looked over to where the horses were tethered and she saw Fallon talking to Warren, his hand on Warren's shoulder like he was offering comfort. Warren was saying nothing, just resting his hands on his belt and staring into the deepening night. With a final squeeze of his friend's shoulder Fallon turned and walked to join the rest of them around the fire. He struck up a conversation with Jasper that Amana couldn't hear. "I'll be back," she whispered to the twins as she stood. Warren hadn't moved from where Fallon had left him, except now his arms were crossed over his chest and his head was bowed. "I'll take those warmer clothes now, if the offer still stands." She kept her voice gentle and low as she approached him, but he still jumped when he heard her.

"My lady!" he said, his head lifting in surprise. "Yes, of course." He made as if to walk away, but Amana put her hand on his arm to stop him. He stiffened and looked over his shoulder at her.

"I'm sorry, Warren," she said in a hurry, "I'm sorry I've been so rude all day. It's just-" he put his hand on hers to stop her.

"No need to apologize." He turned to face her. "I understand." He gave her hand a squeeze before walking to the packs that had been tired to Sorrow's back. They were now lying on the ground near the saddles.

Amana took the clothes that Warren offered her. There was a simple green, long-sleeved tunic that fit her surprisingly well, a close fitting vest made from some sort of soft animal hide, and a pair of long linen pants. She chose to wear the tunic and vest over her top and opted not to wear the pants as her jeans were plenty warm enough. Warren also offered her a pair of leather boots that came up just past her ankles, and some socks.

“Now you look just like one of us,” Warren said with a grin and an eye on her jeans. “Except for those.” She smiled back.

“Thank you for these.” She ran her hand down the soft hide of her vest. Warren shrugged a shoulder.

“They’re yours.” He turned and dig again in the bag, pulling out a blanket. “This will keep the chill off during the night. Whoever is keeping watch will keep the fire going so you should be just fine.” He handed the blanket to her and then crossed his hands over his chest, hunching his shoulders. “Have you eaten yet?” Amana smiled at the concern he was showing her.

“No,” she replied, “but Jasper caught a couple of rabbits and started cooking them when I came over here.” She clutched the blanket to her chest, hesitation on her face. “Can I ask you something?” She looked up into his gentle green eyes.

“Of course,” he said, “ask me anything.”

“Do you...” she paused and picked at a thread in the blanket, “Do you...have any memories of me?” Now that the question was past her lips she spoke in a rush. “Because you said Mayhem remembers me and I feel like your men remember me and you keep making comments about me remembering things, like how to ride a horse, and I guess I was wondering if you did too.” She looked up at him again and saw that he was staring at her strangely.

“You really don’t have any memories, do you?”

“No.” She continued to fiddle with the blanket.

He nodded his head, as though in confirmation. “They said to expect as much. But I didn’t think it would be so absolute.”

“What would be so absolute?” she asked, looking at him once again.

“You’ll understand everything when we get you home,” he replied assuringly. She wasn’t pleased with this answer, but she also knew that pressing him wouldn’t be fruitful. With a nod, she followed him back to where the other men were sitting.

The rabbits appeared to be done and Jasper was cutting pieces off and handing them around. When he saw Amana approaching he gestured for her to sit by him. Warren stood at the perimeter of the group, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I saved you the best part,” Jasper said as she sat beside him. He picked up a small tin plate from the ground and put one of the rabbit’s legs next to some cheese and a piece of bread. Amana took the plate when he offered it to her. It smelled delicious.

“I’ve never had rabbit before,” she admitted, gingerly picking up the the leg and taking a bite. Jasper nodded when he saw that Amana liked the rabbit.

The group made light conversation as they ate their simple meal and joked with one another. Amana quickly realized that Fallon and the twins were the source of most of the jokes and banter. She felt comfortable with them, though the whole situation still felt like a dream. She noticed that, while Warren held himself apart from the rest of the group, it never seemed as though he wasn't pay attention to everyone and everything. He just silently watched, Mayhem either on his shoulder or perched on a branch nearby, the two fo them just being a presence.

When everyone had their fill of food and camaraderie, they settled in to rest. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the men that Amana was to have the warmest and most protected spot in the camp. She appreciated this, as she had begun feeling the wind chill while dinner progressed. Warren and Fallon took the first watch, setting themselves up on either side of their campsite. It took Amana a long time to fall asleep, but once she did she didn't awake until the next morning.