The Messenger Part Two

Hey everybody!

I was totally at a loss of what to post today, so you can understand that I was disheartened.
SLOSHY THE KAPPA: Hey! You can write a post about me!

Yup, I was totally clueless.

SLOSHY THE KAPPA: I climbed Mount Everest recently! I ran into a dragon.

But then I realized I could post the next chapter of my novel! We leave off were the griffin left Marcus in the middle of the woods.

Here we go!
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Chapter Thirteen

With the griffin having abandoned me, I stretch my aching muscles and take a look around. This forest is dominated by trees. I see little of other types of foliage around me. The trees have considerable space between them, but the canopy above is so thick that I am in perpetual shade.

That’s good, I guess. No sunstroke. A signal fire wouldn’t be very efficient though. Fires make me nervous, anyway.

The sun sets in the East, and that is the direction I’ll go. New Adlin and Maritha are to the west of Balta, neighbors to it, actually. It’s a shame that I have been dropped in the unpopulated regions of these countries, but hey, it could be worse.

I begin heading East and keep my eyes open for signs of water. I’m not hungry yet. It has been less than a day since the ship crashed, and I had stuffed my stomach full before then, but my throat is parched.

I begin a steady jog through the forest, warming up my legs. Another long journey in less than a month. Maybe I should take a vacation when I manage to find my way back home. A very, very long vacation.

I spot something in front of me. It looks like a small, black river rushing over the ground. When I get closer, I see that it isn’t water. It’s small, black chipmunks – or something that resembles them – and there are hundreds of the creatures. They aren’t startled at my presence at all, too absorbed in their fleeing to notice me. I look at the direction they flee from. I see swathes of smoke through the trees. 
A forest fire?

No. My gut tells me it isn’t. Ironwood trees aren’t known for their flammability. But something must have startled these rodents out of their homes. Something big.

Logic tells me to run in the opposite direction of the smoke, so obviously I head for the source of the disturbance. Garret would yell at me for my lack of caution, but the unsafe route is always more fun, isn’t it?

It takes me little time to reach the source of the smoke. As I thought, it wasn’t a forest fire. The smoke and dirt begin to clear, and I see a large, bulky shape form itself.

To my eyes, it looks like a giant acorn. Of course, it isn’t an acorn. It is completely handmade. A propeller sticks out from the rounded top, and a giant parachute wraps itself limply around the tree trunk. The wood is shattered, exposing the cockpit inside.

It’s an escape pod. A small one, not like the ones onboard the airship. I run my hand across the length of it, thinking. Then I see Captain Eye Patch’s insignia emblazoned in the wood. So this did come from my airship!

My heart thuds with excitement. Maybe this was the one that Gray mentioned. If that’s the case, then maybe Vale is around here too. I climb into the cockpit. There is only room for one, two if you really squeezed. I see a cabinet marked “Emergency Supplies”. I open it, but it is empty. That means someone must have taken it, right? Maybe they are close by. They probably even left tracks, not expecting to be followed by hostiles. I might be able to find them.

“Hey!” a voice shouts behind me. It is high, clear, and feminine. I spin around and see the slave, Anne, standing ten feet away from me. Her hands are gripped around a large stick. Her chin is titled up, and her back is straight as a board. This must be her escape pod. So Vale isn’t here after all. My heart sinks.

The message!

She has the message. I can get it back.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” I say, my hands raised. I walk towards her. As I near her, I can see her enormous eyes hold a defiant light that does not belong to repressed slave girl. She lets me get close to her, just a few feet away. She has high cheek bones, and her face is flushed pink. Her nose has a turn up to it. It’s kind of cute.

Cute?

“Stay away from me,” she says, drawing back.

“Like I said, I’m not here to hurt you,” I say. “I’m looking for a box. Small, really pretty? Do you have it?”

She shakes her head so fast her hair looks like a puff ball when she stills.

“I know who you are. You’re that messenger. You can’t deliver that box to Balta. Do you know what message it holds?” she says.

“It’s my job to deliver,” I answer.

“And it’s my job to make sure that the message won’t ever hurt anyone,” she says. “Stay away from me!”

I grow impatient. It’s obvious I mean her no harm, but she’s so defensive.

“Listen, woman, I want to play nice, but you have to cooperate here.”

She shakes her head again.

“No!”

“I need it!”

“No!”

I lunge for her. I don’t mean to hurt her, but if I need to use force, I will.

What I wasn’t expecting was that she actually swung her stick.

It was a slow, clumsy swing, but I am caught off guard by the action and I fail to avoid it before it slammed into the side of my head. I fall onto the ground. My vision swirls like a whirlpool. I hear that stupid ringing again, and my entire body feels stiff.

“Bad man!” she shouts. She brings the stick back down on my diaphragm. The wind whooshes out of my lungs with an agonizing gasp. Through slit eyes I can make out her walking away, her back turned to me. Slave girl my butt. She is obviously some kind of humanoid demon.

I black out. Again.

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Well, there you have it! Sorry that it is such a short chapter. I hope that you liked it okay.

Don't drink drink the black stuff,

Esther