Fleeing Power 1/4

Writers: Heather
Date Posted: 5th May 2014
Series: The Price of Power

Characters: Reven, Smokey, Ehvan
Description: Reven finally makes his move
Location: Green Valley Hold
Date: month 6, day 21 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned: Arippa
Notes: Continuing the Power Series

Reven

"Piss on this weather." Smokey grunted as he slammed the wooden door
shut behind him.

Ehvan agreed as he lit his pipe, "Snowed yesterday, shaffin' rain
today. I wish the boss would hurry up and decide what he wants to do
with this sot," he jerked his thumb at the huddled figure in the
corner, "I am getting tired of living in this pit."

"I need to pee." The lump in the back corner spoke.

"I just gots' inside. It yer turn." Smokey said, heaving himself into
the nearby wooden chair, that groaned in protest.

Ehvan swore, "I hate babysitting." The man got to his feet and went to
the back of the dugout and hauled Reven to his feet. The minor
holder's left hand was still wrapped in the same bandage from four
nights ago, the once cream colored strip of cloth was a dark, rusty
brown from the blood it had absorbed.

Reven's vision swam as he was put up right on his feet. He couldn't
recall the last time Ehvan or Smokey had tossed him some dried meat to
eat. Rations were slim in the dugout and the two men didn't feel
inclined to share much with their prisoner. Reven had yet to peek
through the crude bandage to look at his hand. As long as it was
wrapped he could almost pretend that nothing had happened.... Almost.

The prisoner's feet shuffled through the dirt toward the door, being
bound by a piece of rope that wrapped around each ankle, making his
steps short and awkward. Ehvan pushed the wooden door open, a warning
hand on Reven's back as rain began to pelt them in the face.

"Dammit, you'd better make this quick!" Ehvan raised the collar of his
slicker to keep the rain from running down his neck.

Reven kept his back turned to Ehvan, his shoulders hunched as he
fumbled with his one good hand. It was just a pinky, but with the hand
wrapped it was basically useless. Ehvan rolled his eyes, and glanced
off at the horizon. The sky was a dull grey as far as he could see,
and the rain was a steady, constant onslaught. A farmer's rain, they
called it.

"Are you done -" Ehvan's eyes bugged as something closed around his
throat. His heart slammed against his ribcage. He could barely make
out the vision of Reven's hands, the good and the bandaged, and the
piece of rope that was about his neck.

"But... how?" Ehvan wheezed out. How had Reven gotten free from his constraints?

Reven's voice was rough in Ehvan's ear, "I guess I should be thanking
you boys. With that pinky gone it was much easier to slip that rope
off my wrist." His left hand was on fire with pain, but his grip on
the rope didn't lessen as he tightened it even more around Ehvan's
neck.

Adrenaline fueled and strengthened Reven's depleted body as Ehvan's
form began to sag to the ground, and then with one last shudder, the
man's body dropped the rest of the way. Reven's eyes flicked to the
closed dugout door. Dare he go inside and finish off the other man? He
needed what strength he had to make the trip, on foot, back to Green
Valley.

Deciding that he didn't want to run knowing that someone would be at
his back, he reached down and took the knife from Ehvan's left boot.
Reven had never killed anyone before, but survival was all that rang
through his mind and conscience as he headed back into the dugout.
Today he would kill at least once more.

~*~

Wiping the bloody blade on his pants, Reven didn't bother giving
either man a burial, they didn't deserve it as far as he was
concerned. Stripping the boots from Ehvan's body his stamped his feet
in them, forcing himself to think of nothing but survival as he pulled
the rain slicker from Ehvan's body as well and put it on. He would
need the coat and shoes to travel.

He wasn't sure where in Red Rush he was, but he knew that traveling
west, in the general direction of Green Valley was his best bet. He
hoped that somewhere along the way he would begin to recognize the
territory.

**I am coming, Arippa.** He thought, as he began trudging with
determination toward the direction of home. Home. The place that had
kept him sane over the past few sevendays. How long had he been gone?
He could not even remember at this point.

Not knowing when the cloaked man might show back up at the dugout,
Reven did not follow the easy trails, but ran instead in the direction
of the thick forest. He wanted to put as much distance between himself
and that dugout as possible. Leaping over fallen logs, and ripping
through briars, Reven didn't slow but kept up a steady jog until his
lungs were on fire.

He had to stop, but he feared if he did that he might never gather the
strength to get started again. Reluctantly, Reven slid down the
nearest tree trunk, taking in great gulps of air. Fresh air. Freedom.
He looked down at the bandaged hand that lay in his lap.

Carefully he unwrapped the bandage slowly, his face scrunched up at
the smell that rose from the bandages. **A clean wound shouldn't have
a smell.** He told himself. The putrid, swollen lump on the side of
his left hand made him gag, and he quickly stuffed his hand inside of
the rain slicker so he wouldn't have to see it.

Leaning his head back against the tree trunk, he concentrated on the
cool rain that was falling on his face. It was cold, so cold, but he
needed the cool water to refresh his senses. When he felt steadier he
made himself confront the problem of his severed finger. There was no
doubt the wound was definitely infected.

**I could lose my whole hand... Or worse.** Reven focused on inhaling
and exhaling slowly. **One step at a time.** He coached himself.
**Take care of the hand, and keep moving.** As more time passed he
knew the infection would only get worse, eventually making him sick
and possibly disabling him from continuing forward. He needed to cover
as much ground as possible while he was able.

Tearing a strip from the tattered hem of his tunic, Reven gathered mud
from the ground and smoothed it over the angry wound on his hand. The
mud was at least cool and helped ease the burn, and he hoped, slow the
infection. He was no healer, though, and didn't know if such a thing
would really even help. Wrapping his hand again, he pushed to his
feet.

Luckily for Reven his experience in farming came to use as he ripped a
bunch of winter berries from their bush and carried them with him.
They were edible, and wouldn't make him sick. In such conditions it
was the best he was going to be able to do without stopping to do real
hunting.

**I'm coming home.**

Last updated on the May 5th 2024

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