Interlude: Tent Talk

The sounds of labor awaken me early in the morning, of hammers pounding and saws tearing at timbers near the water wheel.  Ever since the snows first broke, the men and women of Dagger’s Deep have been busy at work making repairs on structures damaged during the long winter and pursuing new construction projects all around the burgeoning village.  Chief among these projects are repair of the water wheel and reconstruction of the river keep, a building which could very well be the keystone upon which the rest of Dagger’s Deep is situated.

Unable to get back to sleep, both due to the noise and due to an errant ray of sun which has found its way through one of the seams in the tent, I leave Bonie’s side, stepping just outside the tent flap and stretch, taking in both the last remnants of winter’s chill grasp on the air and the refreshing scent of spring growth soon to come.  My arthritic joints complain as I raise my arms to the sun, and the myriad scars stitched along my shoulders and torso strain against the effort.  “I’m getting too old for this,” I complain to no one in particular.  On cue, Jakke pads around the corner of the tent and throws me an expectant look, which he sustains until I dig a strip of dried meat from my pouch and toss it to the hound.

Bonie’s gentle snores stop a few moments later, and I can hear the sounds of her shuffling within the tent, gathering bits of clothing and armor.  Jakke peers into the tent, taking a few hesitant steps back as Bonie emerges, her brow creased and eyes pinched tight against the morning sun.  “That’s quite the look,” I chuckle, helping her arrange a few out of place straps on her armor, taking a few more moments to untangle a string of fetishes that have become entangled in her hair.  She curses at me quietly, though gently, but doesn’t interrupt my work, instead waiting until I have finished before leaning on me slightly, her arms around me.

“Nice weather today,” she says, though the tone in her voice speaks otherwise.  Ever since the snows first broke, something has weighed heavily on Bonie’s mind and I, not one to pry, have left it alone.  Perhaps she fears for the friends we’ve made in Dagger’s Deep, knowing that our intent is to take to the road again before long.  Perhaps she dreads returning to Mirabar, fears who or what she may find where she once lived.  Almost certainly, she’s worried about what lies beyond Mirabar—our pending meeting with Odesia and Laerch, and the fulfillment of her promise to guide us to her people in the Khedrun Valley.  Most likely, however, I think she fears what the coming spring may mean for the relationship which has kindled between us.

Sharing many of those same fears, I find it hard to reply at all, instead just pausing to take it all in, enjoying the moment while I can.  For sure enough, we’ll be on the road again soon, suffering the dangers of travel as predators emerge from months of hibernation to hunt and feed, trying to navigate these familiar surroundings in an unfamiliar time, towards an end that is still largely undetermined.

“I should see to the shrine,” I say reluctantly, pushing away from Bonie gently, unwilling to force the conversation, hoping desperately to hang on to what has been a peaceful and deeply satisfying respite.  Unwilling to confront the future, and what change it may bring.