Fleeing Power 2/4

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

Characters: Reven
Description: Now that he has escaped Reven must find shelter in the wild
Location: Green Valley Hold
Date: month 6, day 22 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned: Arippa, Corowal, Felyna

Reven

He had slept sitting with his back against a tree, the rain slicker
spread over him like a small tarp. Still, he managed to be rather
soaked from sleeping out in the rain. Upon waking his head had felt
foggy, and he knew without a doubt that he had a fever from the
infection. **Must. Keep. Moving.** Each thought was punctuated by a
grunt as he got to his feet and pulled the slicker around his
shoulders.

Stumbling forward he cursed the ill-fitted boots he had stolen from
Ehvan's dead body. All he could think of was the warmth of his bed,
the soft pillows, the sweet smell of Arippa's scent that always
lingered.... The thoughts kept him moving forward, step after
stumbling step.

The meager branch of winter berries that he had ate while traveling
the night before were long gone, and his stomach rumbled in protest.
He needed something of real sustenance, but couldn't spare the time to
stop. Not now.

As he walked his memory decided to start conjuring up vivid images,
and for whatever reason, they all centered around his wedding day. He
remembered the way Arippa looked as she came down the aisle, how he
had thought himself so lucky to have a found a wife as beautiful as
her.

He still thought that. Reven remembered the whispers of other men, men
who had mistresses on the side, like Corowal with Felyna. He
remembered his promise to cherish and protect, Arippa, to love her
forever, and he had meant every word of the promise. How could there
ever be another for him? There couldn't. Why would he even waste time
in physical dalliances with women that didn't matter?

Reven's mind conjured up his wedding night then, the vivid images of
Arippa laying in bed, waiting for him with her glorious hair around
her shoulders. Shells, she had been so sweet, and the fact that she
was a virgin, that _he_ was the only one who had touched her in that
way, had been enticing, was still enticing. He would kill anyone who
dared touch his wife.

**What if she's not alive?** No, he shook his head, **She has to be
alive or Ehvan would not have threatened her.** He comforted himself
with that knowledge as he tripped over a tree root and crashed to the
ground on his knees.

"Dammit!" He hissed, his left knee having jammed into a rock.

Tripping had caused him to bite his lip and he spit the blood from
between his teeth as he staggered upwards again. Keep going. He had to
keep going. No stopping. Couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop.

Was it raining still? Reven couldn't tell, his skin prickled and
burned all over. The sound of a nearby stream lured the staggering
holder in, and he carefully lowered himself beside of it. He groaned
as he cupped his right hand into the cool water and brought it to his
lips. It was the best thing that he had tasted in nearly a month.
Sweet, fresh water. Perhaps it was the fever, but the cold water
seemed to rejuvenate him, and he drank until his belly felt impossibly
full.

**Better than nothing.** He decided as he spied movement in the water
just beneath his hand.

"Gotcha!" He whispered, snatching the hardshell snail up. Pressing his
forefinger and thumb against the creature, he began pulling, gently at
first until the creature lost suction to its shell, and then he pulled
the wriggling little thing free of its comfy home. "Sorry, friend."
Reven murmured before putting the slimy little water dweller in his
mouth. He forced his mind to a blank state as he chewed the salty,
rubbery snail and swallowed it.

"More." He said to himself as he pulled up a nearby rock, pleased to
find a few more suctioned to the side of it. There was no time to sit
and think about the fact that he was scraping snails off of rocks to
eat. Food was survival, as simple as that. When he could find no more
snails, Reven took a few more handfuls of water to drink, and then
pushed to his feet once again.

His teeth felt as if they were coated with a thick, course rug. **The
expression 'comb your teeth' has never been truer in my case.** Reven
thought as he journeyed forward. He needed to find somewhere to sleep
for the night, and from the hills he had trudged through earlier he
had spied an outcropping of rock that seemed ideal. Having been out of
it for so long, Reven had no idea when Thread was to fall next, and he
didn't want to take any chances by sleeping out in the open.

Last updated on the May 5th 2024

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