Chapter 22 Miria: Nightmares

A Chapter by A.L.Exley

Chapter 22 Miria: nightmares

Alex's eyes stare at me with horror. Her hands and arms reach out for me. I can't move, I can't rush in to help her. She disappears beneath the waves.

I kneel on the river bed in agony, praying Alex will come back. Mist starts swirling around me. Somewhere nearby, wolves howl. Their eerie voices make me shiver. Glowing eyes burn through the hazy fog.

What have you done? says a voice.

I turn around to see a dark cloaked figure. I can't tell who it is until a cold breeze blows the hood off her head and reveals her face.

Ylvana! I say, relieved to no longer be alone. I need your help! Alex fell into the river!

She makes no move; only stares at me with vacant eyes.

Ylvana?

She blinks and looks at me. Her gaze instantly becomes harsh. Her blue eyes start to glow, and the howling becomes louder.

You let her fall. An inhuman sound erupts from her throat, much like a wolf's growl. I back away, panicked.

I . . . it was an accident, I couldn't save her. Ylvana, you have to help her!

She glides towards me like a phantom, forcing me back.

What are you even doing here? You don't belong in the woods! You're helpless, nothing but a pretty face.

I shake my head. I'm here looking for you! We're trying to reach the mountains to find the wizard. He can save you!

I don't want your help, Ylvana growls. Run back to your precious castle, before you make anyone else die for you.

Tears sting my eyes.

Ylvana, this isn't you, I know it isn't, I plead. But Ylvana continues to step towards me.

How do you know what I am? You never liked me, never cared for me. I was nothing but a nuisance to you.

No! I scream. You were the only friend I've ever had! I'm sorry we grew apart, I just never knew what to say to you. You were always so lonely, I didn't there was anyway I could cheer you up.

But Ylvana refuses to hear me. Now you've ruined everything. Alex is dead because of you!

No. My voice becomes a whisper. I take another step back, and the ground disappears from beneath my feet. I fall backwards into the roaring rapids of the river. Cold water shocks my lungs and chokes my throat. I try to swim, but I am completely powerless.

"Mir?" I hear a distant voice. But I can't answer. "Mir! Wake up!"

I bolt upright. My breathing is ragged, and for some reason, my whole body aches. I feel my forehead; it's sweaty and warm.

Chris is kneeling besides me. "You were dreaming."

Bit by bit, I calm down as I realize I am safe inside our tent. Well, as safe as I can get being in the middle of the woods.

But the memory of the dream stays fresh in my mind. The feeling of suffocating fear was very real, and could not be escaped.

I brush a hand through my hair; my fingers snag on countless tangles. Chris sits down besides me.

"Did I wake you up?" I say, groggily.

He shrugs. "I was already up."

His eyes are shadowed with dark circles. He looks so tired and exhausted. I figure he hasn't gotten any more sleep than I.

I rest my forehead in my palm. My temples throb painfully. For a long time, we just sit in silence. Maybe Chris is waiting for me to tell him about my dream, but I don't want to talk about it.

He finally stands up. "I have breakfast ready outside."

He leaves the tent, and I slowly get up and get dressed. I have brought only a couple changes of clothes, in order to keep my pack light. I slip on a pair of pants and a cotton shirt, then I put on a heavy dress over them. I understand now that the dress is impractical, but at least it keeps me warm.

Outside, Chris has built a small fire. A frying pan filled with baked beans cooks on a make-shift rack on top of it. Chris has carefully rationed our beans and jerky so it will last two weeks, in case we have rotten luck and get stuck out here longer than intended. Now, with Alex gone, we have plenty left to ourselves.

I try not to turn around and look at the river bed, where I know two shallow graves are dug; one for Alex, and a much larger one for Racer. Chris had spent all evening yesterday digging them. Meanwhile, I was no help at all. Just a crying wreck who hid away in the tent, and woke up the next day screaming.

I'm quiet as Chris hands me a plate, and we begin eating. I understand why he didn't want me along; I can't take care of myself. Traveling through the woods required everyone to keep up and look out for each other. I can't do either. All I do is slow us down, and make us weaker. Now, Alex and Racer had to pay for my faults.

Chris stops eating, and looks at me. "Miria, we can't go one like this."

I remain silent. Is he saying he wants to go back after coming all this way?

"What happened yesterday," he swallows, "was horrible. But we have to keep moving. Otherwise it will all be for nothing."

I nod.

"That means that you can't let this keep bothering you," he says.

I finally look up at him. "Not bother me? They're dead!"

Chris' eyes are so sad, I can barely look at him. "I know. But if you keep blaming yourself, you'll never make it the rest of the way through the woods. You're all I have left now; we have to help each other."

I hold back a sob. "I can't help you. I'm useless. You were right, I shouldn't have come."

"It doesn't matter now," he says, "what matters is getting through the woods. I can't do it alone. I need you."

I look up at him as tears fall on my cheeks. I want to argue, but I can't find the words.

"I'll guide you as much as I can, but I need you to do what I say," he says.

I finally nod an agreement; there is nothing else I can do. Chris takes our plates, and packs up things around the camp. I focus on cleaning up our tent. As I load up Frostbite's saddle with my sleeping bag, she gives me a sad look. I have no doubt she understands everything that is happening. Both the horses seemed more lethargic after Racer died. They stand very still with their heads lowered, casting occasional sorrowful glances at the graves.

"You have to help me out here, girl," I say, stroking Frostbite's nose, "I really need it."

It doesn't take long before everything is packed up. The sun is low in the east; slowly rising and warming the air. Light dances through the clear sky, illuminating the intense green's of the forest. I wish I can enjoy the sunny, warm day.

Before we leave, Chris kneels by Alex's grave, and places a bright little wildflower on top of the dirt. He stays there a long time, before he standing up.

"You loved her, didn't you?" I blurt out.

Chris' face is completely emotionless as he stares down at the ground. He is so different from yesterday, when he cried over Alex's body. All his emotions are now buried beneath his face. I remember what Alex had said about him handing his emotions. He needs his friends to help him when he can't admit he needs help. He needs more than what I can give him.

"Yes," he mumbles.

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't.

I know it is probably insensitive, but the silence forces me to speak. "Did she love you?"

He sighs, and rubs the back of his neck. "Maybe. I don't know. We were definitely friends, but I never got the chance . . ." He stops talking and mounts Scotch. I take that as a cue to stop talking.

Instead of going back up the way we came, we have to walk along the river to look for a way up out of the river valley. The rocky slope we had come down was way too dangerous for the horses to try and get back up.

But there seems to be no easier way; all around us, the land slopes up steeply. Chris tries to find a path the horses can get up, but we are completely surrounded. He dismounts Scotch, and looks up at the hill.

"We'll have to go straight up. If we keep following the river, we'll get too far off the path," he says.

The hill is covered in slippery mud, skinny trees, and brush that would make the climb extremely difficult for a horse.

"Do you think they can make it?" I say, climbing off of Frostbite.

Chris pats Scotch's neck. "They can do it," he says, trying to be reassuring.

Before leading the horses up, Chris tromps up the hill to clear a way for them. His feet slip in the mud with every step. Sometime's he has to hold on to a tree to keep from sliding back down. He takes out a little hatchet that he kept on his belt at all times, and hacks through the brush. When he is done, he slides back down the hill and takes Scotch's reins.

"Just go up slow. Try not to get behind me in case we start sliding." He starts leading Scotch up the hill.

I tightly grip Frostbite's reins, hike up my skirt, and start walking up the hill. Almost immediately, we start slipping. The mud isn't the slipperiest thing, but the hill is vertical enough to make it difficult. I try hard to help Frostbite up by pulling on her reins, but she is a 12000 lbs animal, and I am a 115 lb girl.

Chris and Scotch are also struggling, but they are ahead of us. Maybe it is because Scotch has a stocky build and a sure foot, or maybe because Chris is really strong.

Then, Scotch beings sliding down the hill. He kneels on his forelegs, and finally stops. Chris walks over to him, and starts rummaging through the saddle bag until he pulls out a rope.

"Why didn't you get that earlier?" I call over to him.

He leaves Scotch to rest for a minute as he walks over to the tree's and wraps the rope around one. He walks back down the hill with the other end.

"Because this rope wasn't long enough to reach the base of the hill," he answers.

Sure enough, the ends of the rope just barely reach Scotch standing in the middle of the hill. Chris ties one end of the rope to Scotches breast collar. He then holds the other end of the rope, and starts pulling. Scotch starts to walk forwards a little faster. Every time he takes a step, Chris pulls up the slack of the rope.

After they get to the top of the hill, Chris unties Scotch and comes down to me. We have made a little bit of progress, but the rope is a real relief. With the same trick of the rope, and a little more help from me, we reach the top of the hill. We are a bit south of the original trail, but we are at least going in the right direction.

Before mounting Scotch again, Chris takes out the map, and marks the spot by the river we were just at by tearing a tiny hole. I don't have to ask why; I know. Once we get back to the village, Alex's family will want to know where her body is, to give her a proper funeral.

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