Retracing Steps - Written Work

Here's a new written work, it is un-beta'd (we die like men), I hope you enjoy! Fiadh is slowly regaining memories while traveling on her own.

~~~

Fiadh stared up at the old building that sat before her, nestled in the village center. It had multiple levels, with dirty glass windows one could barely see through and a worn out sign that hung near the front entrance. Despite its ragged appearance, the inn was still clearly busy, being the best place in the large town to rest at. Many ended up here on their travels following the main roads, and Fiadh hadn’t been any different. She’d stopped in her tracks in the busy street, overcome with an uncanny familiarity as she stared at the inn. She’d been here before, but the memory was broken, there were pieces missing. The sights and sounds were all prickling at her mind to remember the last time she’d been here. It was too specifically familiar to be a dream, the dragon on the sign, its tongue twisting out of its mouth. 

Fiadh had been fairly certain she’d never even been this far south before, she hadn’t recalled anything about the town or even the roads leading up to it, but something about this building ushered her inside, and as she stepped up to it, pieces of memory flashed through her mind. Somewhere in the past, she had crossed the threshold of this doorway before, but the memory was stained with an emotional charge, something that had been urgent. 

It had been nighttime, though the inn had been even more lively then, a wave of sound and music greeting Fiadh as she’d pushed her way past a few drunk tenants to get inside. It had been late, but the occupants hadn’t acted like it, many of them playing table games or lost in drunken discussions of the local news. It was summer, and the inn also served as a tavern in which the locals would congregate after their days’ labors. It had been nearly impossible to secure a room there a few days prior, with what little coin they’d had. More people traveled in the nicer weather, and they’d run low on coin to be able to keep the tiny room. Usually, that wasn’t a problem, but things had gone badly. Njotr had been hurt. 

He’d developed a fever through his recovery, and they’d been in a rare case of actually needing a safe place for him to rest. Fiadh had managed to buy some medicine from the local healer with what remaining coins they’d had left, but now they had nothing to pay the bill for the room. Still, they’d manage, they always did. If they could rest for just a day or two longer, she was sure he’d recover quickly. 

Fiadh hurried up the creaking stairs to the second level, and pushed into their tiny room at the end of the hall. 

“Njotr, it’s me…” She said in a hushed voice as she entered and closed the door behind her, pushing back the hood of her knitted shawl. “I found you some med-” She turned and startled, finding a couple in the room, the woman sitting on the bed and a man adjusting his clothes near her. Njotr was nowhere in sight, and what little supplies they’d had were missing as well. 

“Wrong room, lass?” The man asked casually, raising a brow at her. 

Fiadh’s brow furrowed, her eyes widening as she looked over the small space again, as if she’d somehow missed Njotr. “Where is he?” She asked, her chest tightening in a panic. “What are you doing in here?”

The man raised a brow. “This is our room, got it earlier today.” 

Fiadh stepped closer, urgently, her hand moving to grab the man’s arm harder than she’d intended. “The man that was in here, where is he?” She demanded, her voice rising. She could hardly believe she was being this forward, but her usual shyness had been consumed by her fear.

The man shoved her off. “Oy, get outta here, if this was your room it isn’t anymore!” He said, the woman on the bed standing up as well. “Inn keeper had said he kicked out whoever was here, couldn’t pay for the room anymore, so get outta here!” The man pushed her towards the door, but Fiadh was already turning to leave, her heart sinking into her stomach. 

She rushed back downstairs, and looked over the tavern and lower level, looking for any sign of Njotr, half hoping he’d be sitting at a table somewhere. But she found nothing but strangers, and so instead went for the bar, leaning over it to get the attention of the owner. It took her longer this time to gather up the courage to speak to him, something about a room with so many eyes making her hesitate, but only for a moment. 

“Sir?” She called, her voice too quiet. She swallowed, not even the nearest person at the bar turning at the sound of her voice. She leaned in again, her swelling panic forcing her to when the barkeep didn’t answer. “Sir!” She called louder, and tried to ignore the flush of heat she felt rising up her neck when everyone at the bar turned to look at her. Her eyes remained focused on the barkeep as the man finally looked at her and walked over. 

“Sorry I didn’t see you there-” The man started, approaching as if to take her order, but Fiadh cut him off. 

“The man that was upstairs, he’s…he’s tall, blonde hair-” She made a gesture with her hands, hopelessly, as if that would paint a better picture for him. “Where is he? We were in room four, at the end-” She pointed, but the man’s face turned sour, and he planted his hands on the bar. 

“You’re the girl with him? Ya haven’t paid for yesterday let alone today. Inn rules, you can’t pay then you get kicked out for someone who can. My men turned him out earlier, he’s not allowed back unless you can afford it.” He pointed to a sign on the wall behind the bar. Fiadh glanced at it briefly, swallowing down her nerves as she leaned in. She wanted to go and find Njotr, but if she could at least get a room for them first, then she’d have somewhere to bring him back. 

“I-I know, I’m sorry, but we need the room, please. I will pay you, I promise.” She tried.

“With what? You haven’t even paid for the last day.” He pointed out and Fiadh scrambled for one of the gold rings on her finger. 

“Take this.” She offered it to him, and the man raised a brow at it, plucking it up from her as he examined it. “Please,” Fiadh continued, “Just another day, we need a room.” She pressed. “He’s not well, if he can rest in an actual bed for just a little longer-”

“I’ll take this for what you already owe, but that is all.” The man pocketed her ring, and frowned at her. “Sorry, lass. But I ain’t got the room.” 

Fiadh opened her mouth but the man was already turning away again. Fiadh stared after him, her shoulders falling. Her hands fisted tightly and her jaw clenched. “I can give you more jewelry!” She called after him, loud enough for the occupants at the bar to look at her again. The man glanced back at her, his brow creasing in a way that warned Fiadh he was losing his patience. She slipped another gold ring off her finger and held it up for him to see. “I can find other payment, just take this for now-"

“Barnabas, get her outta here.” The man called to a large man that was working behind the bar. Fiadh’s eyes widened, but quicker than she could react, the man’s strong grip was already on her arm, and he was ushering her towards the door. 

“Wait, at least tell me where he is!” She tried to argue back, her cheeks flushing at the laughter that rose up from the people at the bar as they watched. She tried to resist, looking to the barkeep pleadingly. “Stop, please!” She tried again, but gasped as she was bodily lifted, and in a few steps, they were outside again. She yelped as she was suddenly flung forward, not able to catch herself as she tripped and landed roughly in the wet dirt. Rain was starting to fall as she pushed herself with a pained groan, and looked back at the door. The warm light of the inn that spilled out was abruptly blocked out as the door slammed shut. 

She huffed, turning onto her side gingerly as she stared at the door for a moment. She looked down at herself, smeared with dirt and mud. She wiped what she could away, then noticed something pooling over the dirt from her pouch, leaking through the fabric. Her eyes widened and she gasped, quickly opening the pouch. 

“No, no, no-” She opened her pouch to find the broken pieces of glass from the vial of medicine, its contents already lost. She let out a defeated huff, tears flooding her vision as she hopelessly watched the liquid soak into the earth. She’d spent their last coin on that, which she’d needed to combine with a silver bangle just to be able to afford it, and now it was gone, wasted. She felt her shoulders hitch in a sob, but she forced it down, her eyes lifting to the street. She couldn’t change that now, she still had to find Njotr. 

She pushed herself up with a groan, forcing herself forward as the rain started to fall heavier. Her chest felt tight with anxiety and her mind raced with what she would do when she did find him. Not only did she not have anything to give him, but they were now without a safe and dry place to rest. She looked down the alley between the inn and the next building. He couldn’t have gone far. 

“Njotr?” She called, though her voice was weak and shaking with emotion. She swallowed, forcing back tears as she focused on her task, her eyes searching the alley as she pressed on. “Njotr!” She called louder, the uneasy pit in her stomach only feeling heavier. 

Fiadh circled the building and wound through the nearby allies between, the rain muddying the ground and only adding to her anxiety. She searched for tracks, though she couldn’t be sure which would be his or a stranger’s, the area too heavily traveled to be able to tell. And what tracks remained were starting to get washed away from the rain. She called his name as sparingly as she could, not wanting to draw too much attention to either one of them. They could never be sure who was watching or listening, and she didn’t like yelling out his name to the air, but in this case, she didn’t know what else to do. 

When she still had no luck, she forced herself to take a moment to try and calm down before she started to panic. Some old insecurity of hers whispered the possibility that he’d left, that he’d moved on without her. That he was better off that way. She shoved the thought away quickly before it could truly make her break down. He wouldn’t do that, besides, it didn’t make sense for him to, not in his current state at least. He still needed her, for now. She started looking for signs of him, trying to be more perceptive to the buildings and streets around her. He couldn’t have traveled far, and he would have most likely sought out the nearest place for shelter that was safe and unassuming. But as she searched, she found nothing, and became increasingly discouraged and worried. 

Eventually, Fiadh stopped by a flour mill, its large wind turbine circling slowly as the rain pelted her. She let out a defeated huff, blinking through the rain as she looked up at the mill. She considered circling back around, not willing to rest until she found him, but by pure chance she spotted a red strip of something hanging from a glassless window in the upper level of the mill tower. She had to squint to see it through the rain, and the darkness that was creeping overhead, but its color was unmistakable, the fabric moving with the wind and heavy from rain water. It must’ve been tied to something at the base of the window, perhaps purposely placed. Fiadh’s eyes lowered to the base of the tower, suddenly looking for a door. Her heart leapt to her throat as she hurried forward, circling around the building. She found the door and hesitated before attempting to open it. It creaked as it swung open freely, the building’s inside dark. 

Fiadh took a slow breath, her heart pounding against her chest but she gathered her courage and quietly slipped inside. Inside it, the sound of the rain was amplified by the roof, and it echoed through the large space. She waited a moment, willing her eyes to adjust to the darkness, though there was still some natural light spilling from the upper level, most likely from that window. She moved as quietly as possible, unsure if anyone was inside, though it seemed vacant. Her curiosity led her up the spiraling stairs, grimacing every time the wooden boards creaked under her boots, but the sound of the rain pelting the roof covered it a little. As she got to the top level, she found piled bags of grain and flour, and then a bedroll, a familiar pack. 

She let out a relieved breath, but before she could even land her step forward, strong hands suddenly grabbed her and she found her back pushed up against a hard pile of flour sacks faster than she could comprehend. Her gasped shriek of surprise echoed through the tower, followed by the metallic sound of a hidden blade sliding from Njotr’s gauntlet. Fiadh had never imagined herself on the receiving end of Njotr’s deadly wrath, but understood now first hand the terror that went through his targets as she stared wide eyed up at his hooded face, his blade aimed at her throat. But she watched the cold expression drain from his face in a heartbeat, and he exhaled as she did, feeling the rigid tension of his body sag against hers as his blade quickly retracted again. 

“Njotr-” Fiadh gasped in relief, her eyes wide as tears watered her vision. 

"Sorry,” Njotr growled, eyes still glassy with fever, "Couldn't tell it was you." he was breathing heavily, the small burst of action already draining what little energy he had left. "You found me."

“I was almost afraid I wouldn’t.” Fiadh admitted, exhaling shakily again as she looked to the window. Njotr’s red sash was indeed tied to an iron anchor at the base of the window, serving like a flag. She panted slightly, trying to slow her frantic heartbeat, though Njotr’s appearance didn’t allow that pit in her stomach to entirely disappear. She instinctively pushed off the sacks of flour to embrace him, her arms tight around his shoulders as she bathed in the relief that washed over her. She was trembling slightly as his good arm gently looped around her back in return. Whether it was from her rain soaked clothes or the fact she thought she’d lost him, she wasn’t sure, but she was glad to be able to push that fear away. She pulled back when she heard him hiss slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” She said quickly then, releasing him as her hands hovered carefully, as if he might break. She couldn’t see the bandages wrapped around his torso and shoulder, covered by his tunic and cloak, but she could see the way his body remained tense in discomfort. “Are you alright?” Her eyes studied his face worriedly, her hand moving to rest against his cheek. 

“Oh I’m having the time of my life.” he croaked, attempting a smile. He felt too warm to the touch still. 

“Here, lie down.” She encouraged him and took his arm, helping him back to the bedroll. He’d positioned it over a bed of straw with a sack of grain at the head for a pillow. Fiadh took his cloak as he laid down again, and draped it over him as she knelt beside him. He’d remained dry at least, his clothes weren’t soaked from the rain, and the roof of the tower was water tight, which made sense given it was a flour mill. Still, she would have preferred he had stayed in a warmer bed in the inn. Worry clouded her face as she observed the paleness of his skin, and guilt swarmed her. He could have had the medicine to help reduce his fever at least, had she not lost that as well. 

“I’m sorry we lost the room in the inn.” She said in a quiet voice, her brows drawn in regret. “I didn’t know they were going to force you out, I thought we still had time. I tried to reason with them but the room was already taken again.” Her fingers shook slightly as she opened his tunic, pulling back the collar to check the bandages wrapped around his right shoulder. They were snug still at least, and blood had finally stopped soaking through them. 

“It’s not your fault, Fi. You have nothing to apologize for.” he said, looking up at her.

She couldn’t bring herself to lift her eyes from his bandages as she idly checked them. He was consistently quick to forgive her for her incompetencies, it always left her with a feeling that was almost worse than if he’d just scolded her. Her family had never been readily forgiving and she didn’t know how to swallow his abundant patience half the time. 

“...I lost the medicine too.” She confessed after a short hesitation, her voice breaking slightly as tears stung at her eyes. “I had it, I spent our last coins on it…but they pushed me out the door and I fell, the bottle broke-” Her throat closed up, tears building heavier before spilling over. She didn’t meet his eyes, and waited for any indication of anger or annoyance. Instead, his hand found her shoulder, squeezing slightly. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asked, and she could detect the snarl in his voice, though it wasn't aimed at her.

Fiadh looked at him then with quiet disbelief. She shook her head slightly. She’d wasted their money, lost his medicine and they were currently taking shelter in a flour mill because she hadn’t been back in time to negotiate with the innkeeper. Njotr’s shoulder had been torn open and he was still fighting a fever, and yet he was still concerned about her? Tears rolled freely down Fiadh’s face and her breath hitched with emotion. She reached up for his hand and took it from her shoulder, holding it in hers, almost too riddled with guilt to allow him to comfort her at all. 

“I’m fine, it’s you I’m worried about.” She replied, her voice tight in her throat as she swallowed back a sob. “I’m so sorry.” 

His calloused hand closed around hers, squeezing gently.
“I’ll be fine, Fi. It’s not the first arrow I’ve taken.” he paused, sighing softly.
“What are you apologizing for?” 

Fiadh felt her shoulders shake as she stubbornly fought back her tears, hating that after everything he’d had to go through, she was sitting here crying. She wrote it off as being tired, stress and worry catching up to her from the last several days, and was now coming out whether she liked it or not. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of.” She admitted honestly, her voice trembling. “You are always looking out for me, and now that you need me I just…I made everything worse.” She sobbed, and distractedly busied herself with adjusting the collar of his tunic again, and then pulled his cloak further up over him. But Njotr’s hand grasped her wrist gently, and she stopped, finally looking at him. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “So you’ve already made it better.” 

Fiadh shook her head, letting out a slightly frustrated sigh. She didn’t know where he got his infinite patience, but even injured, he was an ever steady pillar of strength for her, even when she shouldn’t have been the one needing it in this moment. His hand squeezed her wrist a little to get her attention, and her eyes returned to his. 

“What happened wasn’t your fault.” He reiterated, keeping her gaze for a moment. “Besides, I’d probably still have an arrow in me if you hadn’t been here.” He offered a weak smile at her. 

Fiadh exhaled shakily, still not convinced, but tried to regain control of her emotions again. “Well…I’d like it very much if you didn’t make getting impaled a habit of yours.” She sniffled and didn’t miss the slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. She looked him over again, making sure he was kept warm enough. She could at least do that. “I’ll go back in the morning and see if the healer might be able to give me some more medicine, at least for your fever.” She didn’t know how she’d pay for it, but she had to try. She tilted her head at him, the wet strands of her hair falling in messy clumps of curls. She brushed his hair back gently, concern evident on her face at the heat that met her palm. “Are you in any pain still?” 

“I think I’m getting used to it at this point.” He said with a wince. “I just hope the infection isn’t getting worse.” 

“Hm..” Fiadh considered his response for a moment, and leaned in to gently check the edges of his bandages again. “The bleeding seems to have stopped. I don’t want to disturb the scabbing tonight, but I’ll look at it tomorrow.” She said softly, and soothed her hand back over his hair again, relieved to see some of the tension dissipate from his jaw. “It didn’t look too bad earlier at least.” She tried to sound encouraging, though she could see how tired he was. She didn’t blame him, and just hoped he could get some rest, even if they weren’t in an ideal location. They’d managed through worse sleeping spaces before. 

“Do you want to try and sleep?” She asked softly. Njotr merely hummed in response, his eyes already closed as Fiadh continued to gently brush her hand over his hair. Fiadh watched him for a moment, studying his slow breathing, silently wishing there was something else she could do.

Eventually, Fiadh changed out of her wet clothes and laid them out to dry, staying in her long under-tunic. She repositioned to settle on Njotr’s uninjured side and laid down, nestled between him and the sacks of grain. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but they would keep each other warm this way at least. His cloak was large enough to cover them both, though she mostly kept it over him since she was worried about his fever. Fiadh hummed quietly as she continued to brush her hand over his hair, and listened to the rain on the roof. When Njotr’s breathing deepened and she was sure he was asleep, she allowed herself to close her eyes as well. 

The memory had led her steps to the very same spot, though the upper level of the mill looked different in the daylight. It seemed smaller than she remembered, though maybe the number and changing of grain and flour sacks attributed to that. Fiadh stared at the space where they had slept, and realized she couldn’t even place how long it had been since that night. Much to her dismay, there wasn’t a trace of them that remained as she scanned the wooden boards of the floor, hoping to find something that confirmed her memory to be real. 

She blinked through tears as she turned in the small space, feeling like she’d followed another hopeful trail only to find a dead end once more. She didn’t know why she subconsciously expected or hoped he’d somehow still be there, as if still waiting for her after all this time. It was like chasing a ghost, hearing his voice and seeing him in her mind’s eye so clearly, only to find an empty floor space, and undisturbed sacks of grain. 

She had no leads now and couldn’t remember what had followed immediately after. They must have moved on again, or stayed there until he had been well enough to travel, but to where, she hadn’t the faintest idea. She stepped into the light spilling through the open window, and peered out at the slowly spinning turbine of the mill. It creaked and groaned with the gentle breeze, and she listened to it for a moment, as if it might be able to spark some other memory and tell her where he’d gone. 

She turned to leave after another moment, when a flash of red caught her eye. Her head turned, her eyes widening as the wind pushed past the open window, and a red sash flapped where it remained tied to the iron anchor. Fiadh felt her breath still in her throat, and she stared at it, half expecting it to be a trick of the light. She knelt down and reached for it, untying it with trembling fingers. It was dirty and worn, the sash fraying at the edges, but it was real in her hands, and she let out a watery gasp of disbelief. It was the first thing she’d found of his, something tangible that proved her memories were real. She didn’t even know if he was even alive still, but at least she had found something of his. She brushed her fingers over the fabric, and something about its texture felt familiar, caked and dirty as it was. 

“Njotr.” She whispered, tears threatening to fall as she wrapped it around her hand and held it close to her chest. “Where are you, mo ghradh?”