lantern, forest, martyr /// calamus 👀
@bloodlessheirbyjacques ✨
They fled in the dead of night, Calamus carrying their supplies while Jamie carried the valuables they would need to trade for safe passage east.
Heh. 'Trade.' Cal knew damn well what kind of 'trade' it would be. 'Your money or your life.' Nobody would be offering them a ride anywhere; every last item in that bag would line the figurative pockets of some lowlife who wouldn't hesitate to press their faces into the dirt and take everything they had.
Cal didn't tell Jamie any of that, though. The kid was pessimistic enough as it was. (Though if you were to ask him, it wasn't his fault the brat got sucked into all that doom and gloom nonsense when he did.) Instead, he kept a tight hold on his brother's wrist and squinted into the darkness ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of the distant lantern light awaiting them.
Later, when the city was far behind them and the mountains but a distant memory, Cal would tell Jamie the real reason they were running. Right then, however, all his kid brother needed to know was that it wasn't safe to remain at home.
Cal received a surprise about how the world worked when they finally reached that night's destination. There was an old man leaning against a flatbed truck outside the cabin, arms crossed and mustache drooping low over his lips. He was early. Cal's father said the man wouldn't be there until morning.
He must have been moving fast to get here before they did. But what for?
The man stood upright and stuck out a hand to shake before Cal could ask any questions. "Calamus? Name's Henry. I know you were expecting to leave tomorrow, but I received word that someone's gonna torch the forest before dawn. We best make what distance we can before then."
All the details checked out: the name, the vehicle, the 'old prospector' vibes. Everything except when they'd leave. But was that suspicious enough on its own to risk not escaping at all if Henry was right about the fire?
Leave now and be at this man's mercy, or maybe die tomorrow in a fire, making himself a martyr for some cause he still didn't fully understand. Well. Facts were facts: He couldn't fistfight a fire. And maybe there were still some decent people left in this world after all.
Cal turned to his brother. "Hope you can sleep sitting up," he said. "We got a long way to go."
