Blood and bloody ashes! (Closed)

[Wayfarer]

"Why do you look so weird?  Are you an outlander?  Why are you here?"

Frowning at urchin who had leapt from the tall grass to confront him, Ashar's eyes could not perceive any others in what was otherwise a sea of grass upon the plains parted only by the muddy trail that the boy stood upon in the morning sun.  The path north to Merrilor had once been quiet, but that was before Tarmon Gaidon and before Merrilor was founded.  The Caralain Grass had seen new settlements after the war or so he had been told, and this muddy child of no more than eight clearly hailed from one of these new places.  Maybe he could make a job of mapping them, his purse was becoming lighter on this trip without actual work to fill it.

 

"I don't recall answering to you, yes?  Step off the road and be on your way, child, and go find your mother."

 

"I Don't ReCall AnSweRing To You, Yes?"  The child's response in sing song followed by another insightful observation.  "You look like you smell.  Did you wake up next to the sows of a pig farm or do you just smell like wet dog?"

 

Arching an eyebrow at the mouth on the kid, Ashar considered saying something but bit his lip as he began to walk forward.  The child began to backpedal but he had a big grin on his face, his eyes darting to the side being the only warning Ashar had as he heard the grass crunch to his right.  As he turned and placed a hand to his pommel several boys led by one maybe a dozen years of age came out of the grass with rocks in their hand.  Restraining himself when he saw how young there was put to the test when a rock clipped him in the back of the head.

 

Staggering forward, Ashar caught himself from falling as he held his arm before his face to guard as he confronted a pair of girls who had come out the other side,  they were armed with slings and the boys were now unwinding leather straps and loading up as one of the boys called out.  "Drop your things and we'll let you walk away!"

 

Anger was the first response, Ashar being accosted by children?  Not on his hope of salvation and rebirth was he going to be trounced by feral children.  Unsheathing his sword, Ashar growled, "Get away you little scarecrows and find someone else to bother.  You try and you'll regret it."

 

"Liar."  One of the girls with blond braids was already swinging her sling lazily as she took the measure of him while another boy, the older one whose dark locks were stained with mud.  "You won't do that, we're kids and you can't hurt us or our parents will find you!  Drop your things or take a rock to the face."

 

Glaring at the impudent infant, the words had left Ashar's lips before he could even consider them.  "You need to be careful with that, if you're not careful you might hit your father."

 

The boy's swing faltered as he frowned while he tried to process what was meant by that statement, but as the girls both snickered it clearly dawned on him and the rock was flung from his sling.  Ashar bat it out of the air and smirked only to yelp as a second and third rock came his way, pelting his ribs accompanied by cries of anger.  Sheathing his sword as he ran, he snatched the boy who'd first insulted him along the way and flung him over his back as a human shield.  A plan that worked well until the cries of anger turned to fear and one of his ankles exploded in pain.

 

Spilling forward and the boy rolling free of his grip, Ashar clawed to his feet and half ran, half hopped down the muddy road as rocks flew about him and occasionally were successful in finding his back and legs.  The shame only increased as Ashar threw himself off the road and into the tall grass, crawling as fast as he could.  The shouts behind him alerting him to the continued pursuit, he kept going until he started to get winded and then rolled down and over, pulling his cloak and some of the nearby grass over himself.

 

The rustling came close, but then passed by even as he heard the children calling out to one another.  Waiting a few minutes after they had moved past, Ashar gingerly made his way back the way he had come until he found the road again.  His ankle was on fire and his cheek was actually bleeding!  Curses for the children, their parents, their entire family line that had passed and the ones that might yet be born howled in his mind as he made what time he could along the path.  Sooner he got away, the sooner he could give the ignominious death by child stand over merchants a miss . . .

 

It was nearly evening by the time Ashar saw a hopefully welcome sight.  A small village down the path, maybe he could find a place there to rest for a couple of days.  His ankle still burned but now there was a sharp pain that ran along the ankle, he'd only dared to make stops every couple of hours in case the children found him again.  The thought that he had had to run from infants was horrifying, but he hadn't had it in him to beat them with the sword either.  Hopefully they didn't call this place home, if he never saw the stained and tawdry garbage masquerading as people again, he would be happy.

 

Just a bit further to go.