Darkness sometimes fell before the sun's disappearance; sometimes it made its presence known before sunlight could even warm the waking man's skin. It fell over hearts and minds with the swiftest of blows, shrouding everything in a sorrow that was palatable – at least, that was how Alyahbeth saw things. She woke in the morning with darkness in her heart, and went to bed with that darkness unabated and unfed.
It was only late-afternoon, and yet as she surveyed the road ahead of her, seeing the familiar train of carts, the children dancing about wagon wheels, and listened to the amicable chattering of men and women alike, Alyahbeth was tired. She was tired of the constant travel, tired of the need to keep up a relatively happy appearance, tired of the people who were new to the caravan watching her with wary eyes, and even tired of the elders who had known her since her birth, who she knew whispered their worries about her to each other.
From her place at the seat of her wagon, urging the horses forward at a slow steady pace, the young woman refused to look down to the man, Caleb, she thought he'd said his name was, who walked beside her wagon. He'd been watching her over the fire the night before, she knew, and while she had not said a single word to him, she knew he was dying to ask about her scars. On this note, one hand left the reigns and tugged the soft yellow scarf that covered her head forward a little, hiding the ugly warping of her skin.
With her vivid green eyes trained ahead, she hoped he'd get the picture. If not, she was just going to have to show him what everyone else in the caravan knew. Back off. The new ones who came to travel with them, try their hand at selling their things across the country and beyond hardly lasted long – if not for their own lack of perseverance, then for the fact that Alyahbeth was suspicious of every newcomer to a point of paranoia. She heard the man sigh, and fall back from her wagon and go find some lively conversation with the flirt in the cart behind her. Alyahbeth didn't care.
The caravan came to a slow and steady halt as the leader decided that they had travelled far enough for the night. They still had a fair distance to cover before they got into La'marri, and there was no point in pushing both animals and people into exhaustion. They were lucky enough to have found the resting bay on the road through the woods, a large one too, and with ample room for them all, currently unoccupied. Alyahbeth knew how the caravan leader hated making camp in the towns. The wagons, both covered and uncovered, were positioned to create a circle, the horses and oxen and other livestock were put to rest and feed, and the camp was a hive of industry.
The group was numbering close enough to fifty including children and not including the guard they had hired; they themselves numbered close to twenty men and women that kept themselves close in physicality but separate on every other level to the caravan; and they pulled together as a family to prepare the meal for the evening. Alyahbeth worked with the women, preparing and seasoning several lamb legs. Sometimes it was vital to allow the animals to breed while they travelled just so that they could continue to have fresh meat; it was one delicacy the woman could never take for granted. Other women went about the vegetables, while others still fetched bowls and spoons and other utensils. It was one of the blessed things about being part of a long running caravan such as this – things were established; routines, jobs, expectations – everything was as she had known since she was a child.
As the sun began to set, the group was illuminated by the fires set up in the centre of the circle. Food had been consumed, drink had been drunk, and the caravan was in a merry mood. Children were beginning to curl up in their parent's laps, faces flushed with the happiness that simple childhood brought. Someone brought out a drum, another his wooden flute and another still a small lute, and the entire group burst into laughter and singing in dancing. All except Alyahbeth. While she had managed to avoid the glances of the man from earlier, and hadn't spoken a word to him at all, as soon as the music started he began making his way over to her. She wanted nothing to do with him and his questions, and she quickly stood and disappeared to clean up the dishes, leaving the man scratching his head at her elusive behaviour.
From the dishes, Alyahbeth went on to brush down the horse that led her wagon, and then to attend to the clothes that needed washing and drying. She slipped away again as soon as her duties were finished, and into her wagon, but not without a look up to the clouded over moon. She moved past the carefully packaged bundles that held her wares, and threw her scarf from her head. She knew, from having travelled this road thousands of times before, that there was a small town up ahead. It'd only take her a half hour to make it out there by foot, and there she would listen to the stories of the villagers. Surely in woods like this there would be something to hunt, and probably more so the closer they got to La'marri. That was where...
She stopped her train of thought right then and there as she searched in a bag full of different coloured scarves. Pulling out a thicker black one, she settled it over her dark hair, and flicked the edges to fall over her shoulders. She tugged the lip of the scarf a little to cover her face in as much shadow as she could, and after smoothing down the dark fabric of her shirt and trousers, fetching her bow and arrows and fixing a small dagger to her belt she finally stepped out from her home. She did not miss the look of an older woman as she walked past and saw Alyahbeth. "I will be back before we leave, Mother Brayline," she said quietly, inclining her head towards the mother. She did not wait for the disapproving answer she knew would follow, and took off towards the town, quiver of silver tipped arrows slung over her shoulder, and bow in her hand.
If she could just get one story, just one – it would be enough for her to justify breaking off from the caravan and re-joining later. It wouldn't be the first time she had done it, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Not until every filthy creature was dealt with at her hand.
