Yrsa V
Yrsa’s fingers drummed the handle of Gorm’s dagger. He had given it to her right before they left. Her home, Flour Town, was now far behind them. She wasn’t sure when she would be able to give the dagger back. It was a small comfort for her—she hadn’t set the dagger down since they fled. She was aware that she might need it at any moment.
She had been on guard ever since they left, and it taxed her. She hadn’t properly rested in days. Her nerves wouldn’t allow her to find deep sleep—instead she lingered on the edge of awareness, afraid that The Movement would catch up to them.
Run first, then talk. Fight as a last resort. That’s what Gorm had told her.
“We should camp here,” Yrsa announced. Arne and Harry were relieved to slump to the ground. “There’s a huge hill we have to climb, we can do it in the morning.”
“Good thinking,” Arne said. Without more words, they all began collecting sticks for a small fire. Together they made a pile, and passed around water and berries. Arne lit the fire as the sun descended the sky, and the group slumped with their backs against trees, happy to be done hiking for the day.
Yrsa was frayed. She had large bags under her eyes. Her belly was perpetually empty. Her head snapped toward every broken stick and ruffled leaf she heard. She had a hard time focusing. Dark thoughts lingered in her mind longer than they might be allowed to if she were more rested.
She worried. She worried that they were heading in the wrong direction. She worried that each misplaced sound in the forest was a threat. She worried they wouldn’t find this lady in the forest. She worried about Papa and Gorm and the rest of Flour Town. She worried about what would happen. When would Flour Town be safe enough for them to return? When could she go home? When would she feel safe enough to sleep again?
Shock: an explosion in the sky. It was far away, but shook the trees and startled the entire forest. Yrsa, Arne, and Harry looked at each other, frozen, eyes wide. Another explosion rumbled in the distance. They waited. A third blast, this one slightly higher pitched. They sounded violent, like something had suddenly burst and ripped apart all of the air over the forest tops. Were these the sounds made by ship cannons? Yrsa had never heard ship cannons. It seemed to be coming from inland, so that couldn’t be right. Unless the cannons were taken off the ships. Was it magic? The explosions continued but Yrsa lost count of them. She cursed herself internally; she should’ve been keeping track of the number of explosions. A good scout would do that. She couldn’t focus on it.
Eventually they slowed. The time between explosions increased. The last rumbling in the distance came and went and then the sounds of nighttime in the forest eventually returned. Frogs, crickets, crackling fire.
“What was that?” Harry had asked.
“I don’t know,” Arne stared at the fire, concerned. They were all tired.
…
Yrsa swatted at a bug that landed on her face. Her whole body was wrapped in a thick layer of sweat. It was slow going. Wordlessly, she turned around and bent down, offering Harry a hand. He couldn’t scramble up a big boulder, like she had, without some assistance. He grabbed her hand thankfully, and she pulled him up with a big grunt. She took a deep breath and turned to continue on their way.
She had never been this far south, but knew from the map that this hill would provide a view of the entire valley. Maybe they would be able to see the old lady’s house. Hopefully she could see anyone travelling behind them.
When they finally reached the top of the hill, they were all exhausted. It still wasn’t midday, but they would need to stop for a long break. The climb stole all of their waning energy. There were no good lookouts, so after some water and rest, Yrsa found a suitable tree. She took a big breath and flung her body over a branch. She reached up and grabbed the next. She used her legs to do the hard work, she was no amateur climber. She did it slowly. She was anxious for the view but knew she had to pay attention—she had no intention of falling out of a tree today.
“Be careful now, Yrsa,” Arne called up to her. What did Arne know about climbing trees? She didn’t respond.
She checked over her shoulder as she climbed. She wouldn’t go any higher than necessary. When she could finally see over the surrounding treetops, she first looked toward home. She traced out the route they had travelled, as best she could, and studied the whole way. She didn’t see anything but wilderness.
Having calmed that concern, Yrsa scanned the rest of her view. Her eyes went wide and a knot formed in her stomach. She had seen the main road in the distance when she got up here. It was large and wound through the valley—far enough away that they wouldn’t reach it without a full days’ hike. That was the goal.
What she thought was the road was actually a large army. Thousands of people. Smoke and horses. Carriages and rolling towers. It was so large, she hadn’t noticed until she looked closer. It was part of the landscape until she made the effort to look at it. Every inch of road she could see was covered with a moving army. They carried flags she didn’t recognize. They stretched as far as she could see in both directions.
Her pulse pounded. She felt nervous and anxious. Had this army been to Flour Town? Surely they were the cause of the explosions from last night.
Then motion much closer caught her eye. At the base of the hill they were on, she saw something move. It was far below her, hidden by trees, but she saw something move. Maybe an animal, she thought. Her eyes darted around the area, determined not to miss the next clue.
She scanned windows in the tree canopy. She made out a wagon pulled by a donkey. It was out of view as quickly as it had come in. She locked in on the area. Her eyes blurred and she snapped them back into focus. She couldn’t miss a thing. She was barely breathing. She saw people following the wagon. She tried to count individuals, but she couldn’t see well enough. They disappeared from her little window quickly. She looked for more sightlines through the trees ahead. She moved her head and readjusted her positioning in the tree.
This group was so close. Maybe The Movement had caught them. Maybe these were scouts from the main army. Maybe they were in a lot of trouble. Maybe they were also looking for the lady in the forest.
She lost the group—they were buried below the trees, working their way south. That was the direction her, Arne and Harry were headed. Remembering herself, Yrsa looked ahead and tried to spot any houses in the wilderness. Out there somewhere was the lady that Papa and Gorm trusted to look after them. They might have to race this wagon there. Maybe the lady was also in trouble.
Yrsa was tired. She felt like crying—they were on the run and this was no game. But it was not the time to rest, and tears were useless. She looked once more toward Flour Town, off beyond sight. I’ll be home as soon as I can, Papa.
Previous Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/06/16/resistance-chapter-18/
Next Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/06/30/resistance-chapter-20/
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