"The Dance of Freedom (pgs 6-10)" by Shawn Patrick Reed

June wiped the tears from her eyes. "I know." She said. "But when I think about all those people..." she leaned back, plunking herself, and his jacket, into the snow. "I didn't know what to do." There was a long pause, the silence uneasy. "I-I thought I was going to die. B-but I managed to start a fire. I gathered wood from the village... and then you..."



Bryan was on his feet. "Have you no RESPECT?!" he shouted, kicking the fire and sending up a cloud of sparks. "Those are peo-people's homes!" He kicked the fire again, scattering a few of the logs, and the strength went out of him. He collapsed to the ground, his face in his hands.



The girl didn't say a word, and Bryan didn't look at her. His face contorted, wanting to cry, but not being able to. Instead, he heaved several dry sobs, gulping great quantities of frigid air. Soothing, comforting, he felt a gentle hand placed upon his shoulder. Bryan lacked the motivation to get up, and perhaps a minute passed in silence. "I, think... you're going to save my life." June said, trying to comfort him. "I-I think I'd die out here if you weren't here. ...Are you alright?" she asked as he rolled onto his side.



"Yea." He reassured her, though his voice cracked on the telling.



"Can you get up?" she asked.



"Yea." He said, pushing himself off the ground.



"L-listen. I never meant to get off to a bad start. You've tried to help, even though you've been through a lot. I-I'm sorry. I'm probably more trouble than I'm worth."



"More than you're worth? Not yet."



When it didn't look like she'd picked up on the joke, Bryan frowned. "Hey now, I was only kidding! Cheer up."



"Oh." She replied glumly. Then, as an afterthought, "I'll try."



Bryan looked at her. She was shivering again. His jacket was still in the snow where she'd been sitting. "You're shivering again. You ought to put the jacket on." He stated, nodding with his head to indicate where it was on the ground. She complied, pulling the jacket tight around her like a blanket.



"So, what do you think?" she asked after a few minutes.



"About what?"



"Do you think you can help me find out who I am?"



Bryan scratched his chin a bit. "You know, I don't really have a good answer for that. I think I'm fairly obligated to try. It's almost sad how much the ways of chivalry have been forgotten these days..."



"So you will help me?"



Bryan was puzzled, the girl sounded surprised. "Well, yea. I probably would have frozen out here if you hadn't found me. I figure I owe you one. Besides, who knows, maybe your parents are waiting in the next village, hoping you'll arrive at any moment."



"How... old do you figure I am, Bryan?"



"Can't be more than three or four years younger than me."



June shook her head. "That doesn't tell me that much."



Bryan felt his cheeks going red. "Uh, yea... I'm twenty-three summers."



Bryan saw June's eyebrows knit. "Is something wrong?"



"No." she said, shaking her head. "I just thought that seemed strange. Oh well." She added cheerily, shaking her head quickly as her expression went placid again. "I guess age doesn't bring wisdom."



For a moment, Bryan thought she was cutting herself down again, before noticing that she was smiling shyly. It finally caught up to him that she had made a joke. Bryan allowed himself the liberty of hanging his own head, letting his long hair hide the grin on his face. "Alright." He said, slowly shaking his head. "You win." At that point, a few flakes of snow began to fall once again. "Looks like a storm." He said, looking up.



"Mm-hmm... Do you know anywhere that would offer more shelter?"



"Well, there was an old ranger's place that used to live nearby. I don't know if it's still there, but there's no harm in looking, is there?"



"Yea. The fire's almost out."



"Right. Should be no more than a quarter mile to the west. That way." Bryan stated, pointing off in a general direction.



"Are you sure? How do you know?"



"Wind's blowing from the north." He replied.



"Oh. Okay. I'm ready." June shrugged.



Bryan nodded, and began walking. All the trees looked the same in the half-light. It was probably nighttime, but with the storm clouds rolling by overhead it was hard to tell. "Any idea what time it is?" he asked June.



"It was dark when I found you." She replied from behind him.



"Still is. I guess that means it wasn't that long ago when you found me?"



"Maybe four hours?" she replied. Bryan looked back, and June shrugged. "It's hard to tell. I can't see the sky." At that moment, the silence was broken by a distant howl. "Wolves?" asked June, staring off in the direction of the sound.



"Aye, and a good chance they're domesticated ones as well. Bred by the nobles. King's hounds, we call 'em."



"Which, the wolves or the nobles?" June asked as another howl pierced the calm.



"Both." Bryan replied gravely, turning away. "Better to find some shelter and wait out the storm. Oh, and one other thing..." he said, stopping and turning to face June once again.



"Y-yea?" she asked, reluctantly breaking her gaze from the direction of the sound.



"You can't trust what you hear. See that mountain over there?" Bryan asked, pointing to the south. "Looks like a big shadow in the gloom? That's Eagle Peak. Sounds can bounce off that and scatter the echoes around for miles. As far as I'm concerned, anything I can hear at all is too close for my comfort. We ought to get moving." He cocked a lopsided grin as she took a few nervous glances over her shoulder.



They arrived at the cabin amidst a cacophony of howling. It looked uninviting in the gloom. The poor old thing leaned slightly against the side of a small rise as if it needed the support. The bark had never been removed from some of the logs that formed its walls. Greased bearskin covered the windows, but no warm glow emerged from within. The roof bowed in the middle, and a large tree branch had fallen on it.



"Well, I doubt if the door's locked." Indeed, when Bryan pushed against the door, it swung open, then shifted as one of the hinges tore free. Bryan bore the six inches of steel that he'd drawn towards the darkness like a lantern. "Looks like no one's been here in a while. I don't like that." Hesitantly, Bryan stepped into the darkness, groping about for the lantern that used to sit on a stand near the door. It was still there.



Taking the lantern, he fumbled around some more for a match to light it. There were several strewn about near the lantern. Once the lantern was lit, Bryan advanced into the room. Many of the things within were still as he remembered them. The ranger who had lived here had had students- which were, at one time, people he would have considered friends. Their things were still where he remembered them. But that was in the past, and Bryan covered the memory with a cold expression.



June was still standing outside the door, Bryan saw. When she saw him giving her a funny look, she managed to look even more apologetic. "Is it alright? I mean, there's no one living here, right?"



Bryan sighed, "No, there's no one here."



"Aren't you going to check, though, just to make sure?" asked June, "It looks as though it's been lived in recently..."



"Nothing's been touched for a long time." Bryan replied.



Tentatively, June stepped into the cabin. "If you say so."



The cabin was just as Bryan remembered it, if somewhat cold. The fireplace was barren, the ashes swept clean. "I'm going to have to get some firewood soon." He muttered aloud.



"I don't like it here." Whispered June under her breath, sitting upon one of the beds, "It's so lonely..." She had said it softly enough that most people would not have heard, but Bryan had sharpened his ears in the time he'd spent fighting.



"There's no one here for it to matter what you like or not." Bryan replied to her statement, startling her. "I don't like the fact that there are half a dozen wolves outside keeping us pinned down. I don't like the fact that there's a storm on its way, or the fact that I haven't had any contact with my detachment in two months. What does it matter? There's no one around to care what I like or don't like!" he growled.



June fixed him with a sharp, hurt look. "You both insult and mock me." She said quietly. The air turned still, something in the way she spoke made Bryan pause, frowning. "I hold to such ideas as I wish, and if I choose, I care. There is no otherwise."



The moment hung suspended, Bryan waited to see if she would add something more. Yet her defiant, hurt gaze was timeless. This point thrust forth could not be turned aside. "I'm..." Bryan's voice cracked, "I'm, going to get some firewood." He said dryly, the first to turn his gaze.



Bryan stepped forth from the cabin. He took a moment's pause to close the door and prop it into its frame. The firewood would be down the path, near the ash heap. He knew the way from memory. Yet the darkness and the snow falling made shadows of the trees in ways that set Bryan on edge. For half a second, he considered turning back inside, but angrily banished the thought.



There was very little light to find his way by. But to be scared of that? At least he felt better when he considered that the chorus of wolves, now coming from every direction, was a reason to be on edge. Thus, Bryan stalked through the trees. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness that seemed to follow in his footsteps. It was as if something was watching him, and knew that he knew about it. As if someone or something were always right over his shoulder, but every time he looked around, all that abounded were the shadows of trees.



After what seemed an eternity, Bryan arrived at the end of where the trail would be with the stacks of firewood and the ash heap. That was when the stench hit him. The hairs on each of his arms and the back of his neck bristling, Bryan slowly turned to the side.



A pile of bodies was heaped just off the trail. A large variety of wounds covered each one, and a few wisps of steam still rose from a few of the lifeless forms. But none of these bodies were from the village. Each wore blackened leathers with a symbol upon it- that of a scorpion's stinger with a drop of blood at its tip. He didn't recognize either the men or the symbol. Bryan wasn't sure which was worse, not knowing who they were and which side they were on, or the fact that in order to steam like that they would need to still be warm. It did occur to him that neither of the two stood out as appealing.



Something felt extremely wrong about the whole thing. Very few of the pieces fit, but something clicked, and the woods suddenly didn't seem very safe anymore. Bryan bit at his bottom lip, considering if he should grab some firewood with the idea that he would need it later, or forget about it that he might save time. Making a snap decision, Bryan grabbed two of the logs, tucking them under one arm. The sense of urgency- maybe it was paranoia, but who DID care, anyway?- was strong.



Bryan hustled back along the trail, while his blade slid from its sheath, ringing quietly. He held it in one hand, away and behind him. If there were light enough to see, an observer might have noticed the grim set of Bryan's mouth, or the look in his eyes going vacant. In that moment, the clouds did part temporarily, and moonlit yellow light filtered through the trees. Nearly running, Bryan closed his eyes, spinning quickly and fluidly to the side of the path, placing his back against a tree. The sword drew to a vertical line between his eyes, which he opened once again. He drew one deep, silent breath through his nose- and waited. Deep within there came a fluttering, as something stirred the frigid wind. Something had passed by- close by. Though perhaps it was simply the feeling itself... The moonlight caused the shadows to ripple, like a dry and colorless ocean within a storm. What had stirred... surely had not passed. The vacancy hollowed Bryan. His muscles tensed, and with a great gathering of momentum, he burst forth at great speed. The back edge of his sword bit and slid along the trunk of the tree, and at a crouch, Bryan began a dead sprint to the cabin.



Though there was no one to look, the tree bore a half-inch deep scar. Along with the wind, the wolves howled.



The glow from the cabin window was warm and inviting. Bryan was beginning to think it was only paranoia. The light made its way under the slightly off-kilter door. He set the wood down on the ground.



Bryan began to reach for the doorknob, but then the thought occurred to him that he had set the door back into its frame. Bryan's movement for the door turned circular, placing his back to the cabin wall, his sword held out beneath the window. Turning his head, Bryan peered through the corner of the window. Two figures stood in the lamplight. Neither were feminine. Both had swords. There was no third figure. Bryan's eyes narrowed, and his head withdrew from the window. One corner of his mouth quirked into the merest hint of a smile, and he crouched to the ground, one hand dropping into the snow. Taking a few steps backwards, his muscles tensed, and Bryan leapt forward. He burst through the bearskin window, and his sword flashed across his body. It flicked farther to the side, and the lamp was sent crashing to the ground. His sword drew into a wide arc, and in the beam of moonlight coming through the window, both glass and blood hit the floor at the same time. The other man barely had time to draw his sword. As Bryan hit the floor, his blade thrust forward, and Bryan unbalanced himself, driving the blade home. The other man's sword clattered to the floor. Swaying slightly, Bryan righted himself and placed a boot upon the other man's carcass. After having removed his sword with a small grunt, he wiped a hand through his hair, clearing it from his eyes. "So much for if they don't attack..." he mumbled.



Standing in the darkness, Bryan flicked his sword and wiped it off upon one of the men. "I don't suppose you two would be by yourselves, now would you?" he asked to no one in particular, noticing that the trap door to the cellar was open.



Cautiously Bryan walked over to the trap door to peer within. Barely did the feint light from the window pierce the darkness. Stepping into the pit, Bryan began to climb down the exceedingly steep wooden stairs that led to the cellar.



Upon reaching the bottom, Bryan was plunged into darkness. Apparently the moon had once again been obscured by the clouds outside. Now he could rely only on his hearing and instinct to guide him.



Then, it was as if part of the darkness detached itself and tiny claws were scrabbling at the back of Bryan's mind. Letting out a roar, his blade thrust forth, and it was as if in that moment time slowed to a crawl. Everything happened at once. The red behind his eyes... His sword... twisted as his grip changed. The blackness fell back with an "Oomph!" The redness receded, and it was if the room expanded. Bryan could see the form on the ground. The girl, June... He could also feel the blood dripping from his arm where the blade had bit into it. The pain came after that- it was a clean cut. His arm was shaking slightly. He knelt down over the girl. No blood. He had absolutely no idea why he had not killed her. By all rights, she should be dead... but instead it was he who had shed blood.



He checked for a pulse, just to make sure. It was there, and she was breathing. Apparently he had thrust the pommel at her- instead of killing her. In the darkness, Bryan raised his eyebrows. Apparently he had more control than he thought he had. The girl had been bound at the wrists behind her back, as well as gagged. He removed both. Flinching slightly as he sheathed his sword with his injured arm, he slung her over his shoulder and ascended back up the stairs.



The room was cold, the window letting in the wind. Bryan set the girl down upon one of the beds, covering her with a blanket. Considering for a moment, he then tore one corner of the blanket to create a bandage for his wound. Wrapping the strip around his arm like a gauze, he tied off the end with his other hand and teeth. He ended up with a mouthful of cotton as he bit hard when the bandage rubbed against the wound.



The bodies of the two men on the floor were now surrounded by dark, inky puddles. Broken glass littered the ground where the lamp had fallen. Bryan rubbed at his chin. Bending down, he began to tear the clothes from the dead men. When he was finished, he dragged them, one at a time, around to the side of the cabin. The snow was starting to fall again, more heavily this time. There would likely be another good foot on the ground by the 'morrow. On the way back in, he collected the pieces of firewood by the door.



Once back inside, Bryan took the pile of rags and threw them into the fireplace, along with the firewood. His boots crunched upon the pieces of broken glass still littering the floor. Taking one of the matches from where the lamp had been, he proceeded to light the cloth. Soon, a respectable fire was lighting the cabin and giving off heat. Something would need to be done about the window, though.



Bryan walked over with the intent of hanging a blanket over the break. When he got there, however, something caught his eye. Bryan peered out into the snowy darkness. A large black wolf was dragging the carcass of one of the men off into the woods. Bryan frowned, hanging the blanket. He then went to one of the unused beds and slid it over to the door, barricading it. No use taking chances.



Bryan took the time to properly clean his sword, wiping it in his already less-than-clean bandage. He took a seat in the only wooden chair within the room, enjoying the warmth of the fire, and sighed. It was turning into a long night.



He glanced over at the girl sleeping soundly on the bed. She really was a frail thing... There wasn't enough meat on her bones to live this far north. Yet she didn't have the mannerisms of the Noble's holdings or the polished wit from the cities down south. What she did make him think of was a Free Stater, but she seemed a little too... well, refined... Actually, Bryan really didn't know exactly where she DID come from, after thinking about it. She didn't quite seem to fit anywhere. Maybe she'd traveled? Spending time in more than one place could do that, sometimes. Bryan's expression turned lopsided. If he had to make an educated guess, he'd say she was from the Free States, and had traveled some. He supposed she could have spent some time in the noble's fiefdoms. One thing he supposed he could count on... she wasn't about to fight against him if she was from the Kingdom. THAT was a refreshing change...



Bryan kicked his feet up onto the side of the bed. What started as another sigh turned into a yawn. Bryan pulled his sword and scabbard over his head, looping the strap around the arm of the chair. He rolled his neck a few times, and let his head hang. Things weren't that bad...



When June awoke, it took her a few moments to realize where she was and how she'd gotten there. But Bryan was there- asleep in a chair beside the bed. There was no sign of the people who had tied her up. They'd been at least as surprised as she was... They had burst through the door, and found her. They had paused for a moment, and then one of them jumped... He'd grabbed her and put a hand over her mouth so she couldn't scream. There had been another, too... he'd tied her hands up and gagged her. Then they'd thrown her down into the cellar. They hadn't really done any more than that, though... She'd almost escaped, but one of them had hit her... No, wait. She hadn't been able to see who HAD hit her... and hadn't the lamp been lit? But...



June pulled herself up into a sitting position. She wished she hadn't. The floor was littered with shards of glass and bloodstained. All over. June swallowed several times to keep down the taste of bile that was rising in her throat. The blanket over the window, the missing lamp... it all became much too vividly clear. Bryan had fought the men, and... and... She didn't want to think about it. What monster could have so consumed the kind, if gruff, man sleeping so peacefully beside her?



Ever so carefully, she made her way to where the broom was propped against the wall, careful not to step on any pieces of glass. The simple work kept her mind off of the possibilities. Instead, she thought of imaginary places- away from the snow, away from the fighting. There were no problems... only other people's problems, and they were trapped in a glass ball... June realized, with a start, that she had finished the job. All of the glass shards were in a small pile. The puddles had smeared and streaked horribly, though. There was no way to take care of that right now, though. June swept the pile against one wall, beside the bed, which had been pushed against the door. The fire was still going strong- and besides, she couldn't see any more firewood anyway. She went back over to the bed, taking the blanket and gently covering Bryan with it so as not to wake him up. His face looked so serene... it still felt like she had known him for a long time. She almost expected him to turn around sometime and say, "Don't you REMEMBER me?! June? It's ME!" Perhaps he would. Everything he did just seemed to come out of the blue. Why couldn't he listen to her, though? Hadn't she told him she thought there were people here? Hadn't she said it didn't feel right?