The caravan settled next to a river, taking up a large portion of the travel path. Coriel had found herself sitting underneath a tree in the waving grass, her eyes closed as she listened to the performers go about the day's business. They did not mind that she relaxed, they were more than happy to finally carry their weight when Caramine chided them for dumping the advertisement duties on Coriel.
So, she took the time to rest.
Now that Coriel finally had time to sit and think, there were several points that she had to consider.
The first was the matter of the Noble link to the murder of her husband and Janes.
There was something that Elien had told her once about the crests of Nobles, that they were all enshrined within a circle, either gold or silver, and that it was prohibited to mimic their design. Moreover, she had remembered him describing this crest… she just couldn't recall who it belonged to.
What if this was a family that the Witch-King had very close ties to, to the extent that he would protect them by helping eliminate anyone who knew of their nefarious deeds?
She had to make up her mind. She had to make a choice.
And she had already set her mind to it.
She would get close to the Witch-King no matter what.
But how could she cope with keeping a secret from Caramine? Was the red-haired woman someone she could trust now? Lying to her mother was a detriment to her heart, and lying to Caramine felt like a perversion of the new feelings she had for the woman.
It felt like her lies were more a danger than the Nobles themselves. They might cut her apart, but before they could even reach her, she might wound her heart herself.
There was also the matter of the Spirit in her prosthesis. Trying to recall it, she could not remember the origin of the Spirit. She remembered her meetings with Alaist Menheil, the medical revolutionary in Idenheim, but when exactly had this Spirit been employed? She assumed it had been the moment it was installed into her flesh, but was this really the case?
And was it really chance that she had found her former self?
The Red Prince… that Deity had betrayed her master, his own brother. It was because of his soldiers that she had died. So how was it that she had come to this world? Was she now resting in her King's Oasis? How had she become a Spirit, and who was the 'her' that had become Coriel Lawton?
If it really were the case that she was just a fragment of her former self, how did she retain all of her memories? Of course, this wasn't a realm of knowledge she was masterful in, how could she know the certain truth?
But she still worried for it. What if she was not even real? What if she really was 'Coriel', and these memories of 'Aramis' had only been imbued by the presence of the Spirit?
In this world, this unknown, this fearful place of mystery, how could she know for certain that her past life wasn't just a dream?
And if that was the case, what kind of life was she fighting to protect? Peace, because of her guilt? But if that guilt was false, was she still beholden to never hurting anyone at all? What would it be that she had to make up for?
The answer was nothing.
If she was never Aramis, then nothing mattered at all.
Coriel ruffled her hair until it was messy, bush-like, grimacing. She let out a dissatisfied groan. Her head felt in disarray, and she needed to clear her mind.
More and more, it felt like the old her was emerging.
"Go feed the horses, Thomas." Caramine chided towards the Jester as she made her way over to Coriel.
The caravan was pulled by five horses, and that much was necessity.
However, the horses of the Blackbaast weren't like the ones that Coriel had grown used to on the surface world. These beasts were titans, massive behemoths that put no mind into pulling twice their weight around. With only five of them, they could move the caravan train with no worry at all.
These beasts were even so big that were they not outfitted with grandiose harnesses, they could fit three full-grown men on their backs and still have room to carry about a crate or two.
Of course, normal horses were still found in abundance, but were often reserved for the carriages of Nobles or officials. They had near to no mercantile use.
Caramine sat beside Coriel, smiling genially as she extended her hand outwards. In it, a small fruit glistened under the morning light of the cavern's crystals. It had been sliced in half, its rough, thick purple leather exposing the soft, juicy flesh within. It bled a bright orange, seeping into Caramine's skin.
Coriel accepted the fruit, nodding her head in thanks as she took a bite.
"Maester Redansia went out on a hunt. He won't be back until tomorrow, but we'll have meat prepared for the rest of our journey. Graham and Meline weren't able to find any within Eastchapel. It seems there's been a significant decrease in successful hunts there… they said the locals were saying they couldn't find anything at all, like all wildlife had vanished."
All wildlife has vanished? Wasn't Eastchapel originally a settlement formed by hunters to trade and share what they had hunted? How come they couldn't find anything, these experienced men and women?
Is it really the case that all wildlife has disappeared?
There were far too many oddities occurring all at once within the south. First the overwhelming storms in Selsch, now even wildlife was growing scarce, where it should be most abundant.
Just what was causing these sudden changes?
"And Graham and Meline have gone to watch clothes by the river, while Balasque went to help my mother cook. So, aren't we alone now?"
Coriel's tone had a sultry, suggestive hint to it. Caramine glanced at her, her cheeks growing red as she smiled.
"Won't they hear us?"
Coriel placed a hand on her chest, pushing her down into the grass.
"Then you should be quiet..."
Coriel moved her hand downwards as she placed her lips on Caramine's, running her hand along the red-haired woman's waist. Soft, pleading sounds escaped her mouth.
When they broke away, Caramine looked up towards Coriel, unsure as whether to smile or sheepishly glance away.
"Alright…"
Suddenly, Coriel saw a flash of white burst through the grass, leaving small footprints in the soil below.
A… rabbit?
But I thought there wasn't supposed to be wildlife in this area…?
She stood up quickly, looking out towards the forest's edge.
Caramine sat up, looking worriedly at Coriel.
"Is something the matter?"
"Maybe. I'm going to go check it out." Coriel removed her cloak, her silver prosthesis glimmering under the morning light. The Spirit within had renewed itself, and she could command its operation for several hours. There was no need to be worried about conserving it for a time.
"Be careful…"
She nodded her head. How could this be the case? It hasn't been long since we've departed from Eastchapel. Most hunting parties would travel for several days if they couldn't find anything, they've definitely come this far. How come experienced hunters couldn't find anything, but now we've seen it?
There's something strange about this…
She entered the forest, quickly and agilely moving through it. She had grown used to this much, growing up in Selsch, where fields were bordered by forests on all sides.
Coriel burst through the brush, her eyes zipping back and forth as she searched for any sign of the rabbit.
When she saw rustling, she dove towards it, pulling out the knife from her cloak. However, what she found was not a rabbit, but a clearing. Past the large foundation of brush and ivy, there was a large circular area in the forest devoid of flora. Not even grass grew in the harsh, loamy soil, and the canopy overhead became its thickest, shrouding the alcove in shadow.
She spotted the rabbit, thick white tufts of fur blanketing its scrawny form. But it wasn't at all bothered by her, it didn't make any attempts to run away at all.
In front of her, shadows wavered.
And Coriel suddenly realised why the rabbit had made no attempt to run away from her. It hadn't been fleeing her in the first place. It had been going somewhere, it had been coming here on purpose.
She watched as the rabbit from earlier hopped towards the shadows, and then taking careful steps, entered its gaping maw. Sharp teeth closed around the rabbit, causing spittle to fly through the air. Blood seeped through the cracks in its bite, spilling onto the ground, and Coriel's ears were imbibed with shrill cries and the crunching of bones.
From the shadows, a wolf emerged, fur as black as night.