CHAPTER 17: TRUST

“I smell blood.”

Hedera’s words made everyone come to a halt. She had stopped walking a few seconds before speaking, so she was standing behind the rest of the group. Their first reaction was to glance at Gorken. He shook his head, reassuring them, “It’s not me. I feel perfectly fine.”

“The last time you said you were fine,” Malia walked closer to him, “your entrails were bleeding.”

“It’s not him. It smells different than back then.” Hedera clarified.

“None of us are hurt.” Aldous rapidly checked on his companions, “Maybe there are wounded people ahead?”

“No, I can sense the scent close by.”

Just when they were about to give up on deducing what the source of the smell was, Malia gasped and felt her face going hot. Licorice noticed, and then she addressed her sister, “Hedera, the princess is a female mammal.”

“That makes sense.” Hedera settled her doubts, “But what are you blushing about? It’s the same for all females of your species, is it not?”

“That’s not the issue.” Malia gazed at the floor, “It’s my first time dealing with my moon bleeding outside of the palace and on my own. I thought I had done a good job. Rose even went to the trouble of giving me the cloth pieces… It’s so embarrassing that I can’t do it right without Lyra’s assistance…”

Gorken knew it was the duty of a leader to put his men at ease, but he had no advice for Malia that wouldn’t amount to empty words. What little he knew about the flowering of women he had gathered from Rose’s stray remarks. He didn’t know what it was, not truly. Well, I do know what it means, but not how to deal with it. The silence was becoming heavier by the second, so when Bayard ended it, Gorken’s relief decried him as a lousy commander.

“Malia, don’t worry about it.” Bayard recalled the first time he had seen the bloody stain on Breya’s trousers. He had been a fearful child then, panicking at the idea of his sister bleeding out and leaving him behind. Breya had noisily laughed at his horror, but she hadn’t intended to be mean. “Hedera has an incredibly keen sense of smell, and she’s tactless. I’m sure you did a good job. I don’t see any leaks.”

“Thank you, Bayard!” Malia held his hands in gratitude.

Hedera ran up to Malia as they continued on their path, her big golden eyes hungry, “Hey, who’s Lyra? And who’s Rose?”

“Lyra’s my… friend. She was my handmaiden too. We’ve know each other since we were little.” And I didn’t even ask her if she wanted to come with me. Malia wished to convince herself she had done it for Lyra’s sake, to keep her out of her dangerous treason. But I didn’t say goodbye. I just left. She couldn’t bear to think about Lyra being angry at her, but imagining her being sad and lonely was even worse. I’m the worst.

“And Rose?” Hedera pressed when she realized Malia was lost in thought.

“Oh, sorry. Rose is a member of the rebellion. She fixed these clothes for me, and she also made the tunic you’re wearing. She acts tough, but I think she’s a big softy at heart.”

Aldous made a sound with his nose that both doubted and mocked Malia’s statement.

“What?” she protested.

“Nothing.” He shrugged, “Just try calling her a softy to her face the next time you see her.”

After a long day of travelling, they agreed to spend the night near the river. When Malia’s turn to keep watch arrived, she sat on a rock next to her companions. Spending nights outdoors was still a new experience for her; the anticipation of sitting in the lone company of the voices of the forest was as exciting as it was intriguing. The silence was alive, and the blackness sheltered the promise that anything could happen.

That night there was something different though. What caught her interest were not the forest and its noises, its depths and its shadows. It was Gorken’s sleeping face. He looked as if he was in pain, and his breathing was ragged.

He woke up abruptly and sat up all in one motion. He was panting heavily, and he covered his face with his hands. The strands of long disheveled hair framing his head made him appear even more agitated. He didn’t even notice Malia until she was standing next to him. He stared up at her from where he was sitting on the ground.

Malia had always felt safe around Gorken. He was undeniably strong and confident. For everyone, having him close by was like having a big brother looking out for them. His mere presence encouraged them. But from where she was standing, Gorken looked like a terrified, lost child. She couldn’t contain the urge to protect him. She kneeled down next to him and cradled his head in her chest, her arms holding him tight.

“It’s alright.” Was all that came to her mind, and so she said it.

Gorken was still coming to his senses. Unlike the cold, frail, bloody Malia of his nightmare, the arms holding him were strong and warm. He closed his eyes, allowing his own breathing to match the rhythm of hers. For long moments, they stayed still. It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath, just for them. Then Gorken moved his hand and placed it on Malia’s shoulder, “Thank you.” He murmured.

In silence, they let go of each other. Malia went back to sit on her rock, and Gorken went back to sleep.  For the rest of the night, he didn’t dream of anything.