Kritter
The one and only...
Oren sunk down against his cabin door, his head bending over his knees, trying to shield his heart from Hanah’s admission. It made sense to him now, and answered all his questions, but the truth was hard to absorb. “So...you were going to run into me on my rounds with your bag of jewels and little traveling show story,” he said, trying to put it in perspective. “But you accidentally stepped into my trap the night before, so you never got to change out of your clothes or take your necklace off. And since you couldn’t think of an excuse right away, you figured it best not to speak.”
Hanah stood paralyzed and trembling against the wall, her arms crossed tightly at her waist. She glanced down at her feet and gave a brief nod.
“So tell me...” Oren voice wavered, choking on his question. “Did you ever really love me at all?”
“Yes,” she gasped, taking a few cautious steps forward, lowering her body to his level. “I still do. That’s not something I could fake. We can still be together, Oren, after this...nothing has to change.”
He shook his head and shut his eyes, furious to hear her speak in perfect Dornish, even though he’d suspected it all along. Before now, he had thought her charade was cute, because he believed it was harmless - being directed at him, an innocent - but now it was a long, long way from cute.
“Are you....are you one hundred percent sure it’s him?” Oren asked, dreading the implications for his friend.
“Well, we weren’t at first,” she said, “All we knew for sure was...to get inside the palace...the killer had to scale two eight foot walls. And after ruling out all the very tall men in Dorning, we started checking the outskirts. Not only did John Smith fit the bill, he’s living on property that was listed as abandoned, making it highly likely he was a fugitive, and after I got to know him, it was apparent he hated King Phillip.”
Oren sighed, not wanting to believe it of his friend, although knowing how easily riled up John got, he could picture him killing the king. And from the look on Hanah’s face, he imagined his friend had given a far too accurate depiction of how Phillip was found. “So what will happen to him?”
“They’ll give him a fair trial.”
“And then?”
Hanah swallowed and lowered her head. “You know what happens then.”
“No,” Oren seethed, shaking his head at her in anguish, not wanting to imagine Big John being led to the gallows. “He’s my friend, he’s the only person who ever helped me...who ever cared. He and Marie are like family to me.”
Hanah moved closer and settled to her knees, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m your family now.”
Oren’s eyes lifted towards her with incredulous anger. He’d vouched for her to John, and she’d let him, even knowing how it would kill him to find out. His mind snapped back to her shooting his gun, putting the act in perspective. It wasn’t a warning...it was a threat...meant to discourage his intervention. He didn’t doubt that her attempt to soothe him now was more a ploy to save her own skin, because the only way they could arrest John was if she recounted what she’d heard and stood witness at his trial.
“I need...a few minutes,” he said, taking a deep breath, trying to get his emotions under control. He let her soft fingers stroke against his hand, and then enveloped them within his own. “Hanah...” he whispered, gently tugging her closer, letting her rest her head against his chest. The darkness of the cabin settled around them, their bodies aglow in the wash of two dim candles. It was darkness Oren embraced while he silently despaired over his decision. The night was his biggest ally now. With Peabody stabled at John’s, she had no recourse but to wait until morning. He glanced at his rifle, which sat by the wall beside him, deciding he’d let her take it if she wanted. Lowering his head, he kissed her hair, feeling the pain of his heartache. “Make me some coffee?”
Hanah sat up and took measure of his face, and then she nodded and rose to her feet. “Start a fire?” she said carefully, testing his willingness to leave the door, remaining as close as she could to his rifle until he stood and moved towards the hearth. Her stiffness eased when he passed her. “I’m sorry, Oren.” She bent over him as he knelt to light the fire and rubbed her hand against his shoulder. “I know this is hard on you.”
Oren smiled at her hand and then at her face, before turning to gaze at the fire. “King Phillip spoke to me once, did I ever tell you that?” he said. He waited a minute for her to respond and then glanced back at her silence, taking in the way her attention snapped from the rifle back to him. “He was walking through my neighborhood with this big entourage. It was a bunch of foreign dignitaries and some other higher-ups, and a long line of palace soldiers.” He stepped back from the fire as it started to grow hot and picked up a pot from the counter. “That was probably the first time I’d ever seen the royal guard. I was all of like, eight or nine, and I was so excited to see him, I ran right through the barricades and grabbed his hand.” Oren split off a small portion of dried meat from his stores and tossed it in the pot. Then he picked up his most innocuous knife and started slicing up a few potatoes and onions.
“The guards immediately pulled me back, but Phillip...he waved them off, and he put his hand on my head and patted it....and he said...and I’ll never forget this...he said ‘Are you a good boy?’” Oren laughed, reaching up to his highest shelf to grab a tin of seasoning for his stew.
Hanah settled against the counter, still too tense to sit, her attention now fully focused on his story.
“So of course I said, ‘yes,’” Oren continued, swiftly chopping up the blackish roots and adding them to the pot. “And then he said, ‘That’s good. Always make your parents proud.’” Oren paused a moment, recalling that moment with sadness. “He didn’t know my parents were dead, but...I just thought of them in heaven, looking down on me.” He added water to the pot and hung it over the fire.
“You had a hard life.” Hanah took the chair beside him, leaning forward on her arms, the look of exhaustion in her eyes. After a day long party, the stressful night was taking its toll on her body.
“I loved my family,” Oren said quietly, watching the stew start to boil. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”
Hanah smiled, her eyelids growing heavy as she gazed into the fire. Several minutes passed in silence and then she pushed back from the table and stood, trying to fend off sleep. “That coffee should be ready in just a minute,” she said, more to herself than to him.
Oren bit his lip and grinned, watching her pace nervously in front of the door. Taking to his feet, he grabbed a pair of mugs and poured some coffee into each. In the same moment, Hanah stopped in front of his rifle and lifted it into her hands.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she said, frowning at his disappointed face. “But you’ll need to come back with me when I go in the morning. I just can’t chance you warning them.”
Oren bowed his head in a docile manner and then nodded towards her bowl. “Better eat up. It’s going to be a long walk.”
Hanah sucked in her breath and sat back at the table, keeping one hand securely on the rifle strap while she quickly consumed the stew. “You’re not eating yours?”
“My stomach is still kind of tied up in knots.” His eyes watered as he pushed away his bowl and leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t realize how lonely I was here until you showed up.” He glanced at his dog’s old sleeping spot and sighed. “So I guess I should be grateful for the time we had...even if was an illusion.”
Hanah shook her head at him. “I told you...nothing has to change.”
“I wish that was true,” he said, standing up and throwing a small empty bag into the fire, before painstakingly washing out and drying the tin that had held it. Each minute that ticked away from that point felt infinite in its passing.
Hanah closed her eyes and laid her head on her arms, and then she shook her head and tried to stand. “I feel so dizzy all of a sudden.” She swooned, collapsing back into her chair.
Oren walked slowly to her side, watching her eyes roll back in her head. He stroked her cheek as her face grew pale, and then lowered his lips to her ear, resting his head against her shoulder as he whispered, “Sora vi.”
Hanah stood paralyzed and trembling against the wall, her arms crossed tightly at her waist. She glanced down at her feet and gave a brief nod.
“So tell me...” Oren voice wavered, choking on his question. “Did you ever really love me at all?”
“Yes,” she gasped, taking a few cautious steps forward, lowering her body to his level. “I still do. That’s not something I could fake. We can still be together, Oren, after this...nothing has to change.”
He shook his head and shut his eyes, furious to hear her speak in perfect Dornish, even though he’d suspected it all along. Before now, he had thought her charade was cute, because he believed it was harmless - being directed at him, an innocent - but now it was a long, long way from cute.
“Are you....are you one hundred percent sure it’s him?” Oren asked, dreading the implications for his friend.
“Well, we weren’t at first,” she said, “All we knew for sure was...to get inside the palace...the killer had to scale two eight foot walls. And after ruling out all the very tall men in Dorning, we started checking the outskirts. Not only did John Smith fit the bill, he’s living on property that was listed as abandoned, making it highly likely he was a fugitive, and after I got to know him, it was apparent he hated King Phillip.”
Oren sighed, not wanting to believe it of his friend, although knowing how easily riled up John got, he could picture him killing the king. And from the look on Hanah’s face, he imagined his friend had given a far too accurate depiction of how Phillip was found. “So what will happen to him?”
“They’ll give him a fair trial.”
“And then?”
Hanah swallowed and lowered her head. “You know what happens then.”
“No,” Oren seethed, shaking his head at her in anguish, not wanting to imagine Big John being led to the gallows. “He’s my friend, he’s the only person who ever helped me...who ever cared. He and Marie are like family to me.”
Hanah moved closer and settled to her knees, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m your family now.”
Oren’s eyes lifted towards her with incredulous anger. He’d vouched for her to John, and she’d let him, even knowing how it would kill him to find out. His mind snapped back to her shooting his gun, putting the act in perspective. It wasn’t a warning...it was a threat...meant to discourage his intervention. He didn’t doubt that her attempt to soothe him now was more a ploy to save her own skin, because the only way they could arrest John was if she recounted what she’d heard and stood witness at his trial.
“I need...a few minutes,” he said, taking a deep breath, trying to get his emotions under control. He let her soft fingers stroke against his hand, and then enveloped them within his own. “Hanah...” he whispered, gently tugging her closer, letting her rest her head against his chest. The darkness of the cabin settled around them, their bodies aglow in the wash of two dim candles. It was darkness Oren embraced while he silently despaired over his decision. The night was his biggest ally now. With Peabody stabled at John’s, she had no recourse but to wait until morning. He glanced at his rifle, which sat by the wall beside him, deciding he’d let her take it if she wanted. Lowering his head, he kissed her hair, feeling the pain of his heartache. “Make me some coffee?”
Hanah sat up and took measure of his face, and then she nodded and rose to her feet. “Start a fire?” she said carefully, testing his willingness to leave the door, remaining as close as she could to his rifle until he stood and moved towards the hearth. Her stiffness eased when he passed her. “I’m sorry, Oren.” She bent over him as he knelt to light the fire and rubbed her hand against his shoulder. “I know this is hard on you.”
Oren smiled at her hand and then at her face, before turning to gaze at the fire. “King Phillip spoke to me once, did I ever tell you that?” he said. He waited a minute for her to respond and then glanced back at her silence, taking in the way her attention snapped from the rifle back to him. “He was walking through my neighborhood with this big entourage. It was a bunch of foreign dignitaries and some other higher-ups, and a long line of palace soldiers.” He stepped back from the fire as it started to grow hot and picked up a pot from the counter. “That was probably the first time I’d ever seen the royal guard. I was all of like, eight or nine, and I was so excited to see him, I ran right through the barricades and grabbed his hand.” Oren split off a small portion of dried meat from his stores and tossed it in the pot. Then he picked up his most innocuous knife and started slicing up a few potatoes and onions.
“The guards immediately pulled me back, but Phillip...he waved them off, and he put his hand on my head and patted it....and he said...and I’ll never forget this...he said ‘Are you a good boy?’” Oren laughed, reaching up to his highest shelf to grab a tin of seasoning for his stew.
Hanah settled against the counter, still too tense to sit, her attention now fully focused on his story.
“So of course I said, ‘yes,’” Oren continued, swiftly chopping up the blackish roots and adding them to the pot. “And then he said, ‘That’s good. Always make your parents proud.’” Oren paused a moment, recalling that moment with sadness. “He didn’t know my parents were dead, but...I just thought of them in heaven, looking down on me.” He added water to the pot and hung it over the fire.
“You had a hard life.” Hanah took the chair beside him, leaning forward on her arms, the look of exhaustion in her eyes. After a day long party, the stressful night was taking its toll on her body.
“I loved my family,” Oren said quietly, watching the stew start to boil. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”
Hanah smiled, her eyelids growing heavy as she gazed into the fire. Several minutes passed in silence and then she pushed back from the table and stood, trying to fend off sleep. “That coffee should be ready in just a minute,” she said, more to herself than to him.
Oren bit his lip and grinned, watching her pace nervously in front of the door. Taking to his feet, he grabbed a pair of mugs and poured some coffee into each. In the same moment, Hanah stopped in front of his rifle and lifted it into her hands.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she said, frowning at his disappointed face. “But you’ll need to come back with me when I go in the morning. I just can’t chance you warning them.”
Oren bowed his head in a docile manner and then nodded towards her bowl. “Better eat up. It’s going to be a long walk.”
Hanah sucked in her breath and sat back at the table, keeping one hand securely on the rifle strap while she quickly consumed the stew. “You’re not eating yours?”
“My stomach is still kind of tied up in knots.” His eyes watered as he pushed away his bowl and leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t realize how lonely I was here until you showed up.” He glanced at his dog’s old sleeping spot and sighed. “So I guess I should be grateful for the time we had...even if was an illusion.”
Hanah shook her head at him. “I told you...nothing has to change.”
“I wish that was true,” he said, standing up and throwing a small empty bag into the fire, before painstakingly washing out and drying the tin that had held it. Each minute that ticked away from that point felt infinite in its passing.
Hanah closed her eyes and laid her head on her arms, and then she shook her head and tried to stand. “I feel so dizzy all of a sudden.” She swooned, collapsing back into her chair.
Oren walked slowly to her side, watching her eyes roll back in her head. He stroked her cheek as her face grew pale, and then lowered his lips to her ear, resting his head against her shoulder as he whispered, “Sora vi.”
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Another story for your faithful readers 
