NOVEL WEB Chapter 48: Campfire
--Sintija---
Sintija helped Markos make camp. When everything was said and done, she had settled beside the fire next to him. Her cloak and weapons were set away from her, though she knew his distrust of her had nothing to do with actual weapons. He had taken off the armor. Most of it consisted of plates buckled onto a backing of mail, and that was backed with heavy leather and winter fur that wasn't all white that he kept that on. Otherwise, he would have frozen to death while they made the fire, and he only loosened it when the blaze had achieved a respectable height.
The wood came from a bundle tied to Markos's saddlebags. It would run out eventually, but for this first hour it couldn't hurt to be warm.
Most of the preparations were done in silence. Sintija built the fire, Markos tended the horse, and the dog watched her with wary mistrust. It had been trained by the church to hate her, and must have been confused at the sudden change of fortunes. A truce was struck, where Sintija didn't go near that mastiff, and the mastiff didn't stop watching her from a safe but respectable distance.
When they both finally sat down, the fire up, water boiling in a small kettle, and their corner of the cave had started to resemble something livable, it seemed like an age of silence had passed between them.
"What are their names?" Sintija asked softly, finally deciding to sate some of her curiosity. She rubbed her right wrist, free of her archer's gauntlet.
"The dog is Elias," Markos slowly replied. "And he is staring at you because you are in his favorite spot."
Sintija found herself at Markos's side, not quite touching him. The dog settled across from the fire, and was indeed staring, as though waiting for invitation. Whether or not that invitation was to rip her throat out, Sintija didn't really feel like speculating.
Markos addressed the horse next without looking up. "The stallion is Dardanelles, a warder, bred in Westfallion."
As Sintija stared at the huge white horse, she caught Markos watching her out of the corner of her eye. Markos commented, "I'm surprised you travel on foot."
"It depends on where I have to go. Sometimes, it's faster to travel on foot. I needed a horse that other time I ran into you, it would have looked strange otherwise to have walked from Saule knows where," she replied thoughtfully.
"I take it you are whatever equivalent the elves have to the Order?" Markos expression was thoughtful, if serious.
"In a sense, I drifted into the role, Laima choses us more than any elder does. Healing is more my specialty than combat," she added with a bit of a shrug. "They named me 'Laumiņa', if you want to consider it something like being ordained a templar." Sintija didn't need to be near the fire but there was something comforting about the warmth of its glow in the absence of the Word.
"That means?" Markos gestured, expecting a translation.
"Pixie in the Northern tongue," came Sintija's soft answer, accompanied by a smile.
"It's your job to be annoying?" Markos look bewildered, uncertain if she was making a joke at his expense. Pixies of myth were mischievous spirits.
"Retrieve artifacts, find embers, fight aphotics... and yes, annoy templars, in a sense," Sintija reached for the small waterskin beside her and took a small drink. The water was still cold despite its proximity to the fire but she didn't mind.
"You are good at it." The was a hint of a smile on his face as he tested his hand on his knee.
Sintija chuckled, "You are a special case, Laima keeps guiding you to me," she added gently, closing the waterskin and setting it back down beside her. "You caught me off guard that first time. I didn't think you deserved an arrow through your heart." She glanced over her bare shoulder at him again. She smoothed her left hand over her right sleeve.
Sintija appraised Markos's manner of clothing even now with the fire roaring with growing curiosity. "Are you still cold?" She turned to speak to him more fully, resettling her position beside him as she fussed with her hair, loosening the braids. She considered the supplies that Markos carried with him in comparison to the supplies that she carried or at least the appearance of it.. she supposed she looked ill prepared for travelling and the weather. "I have an extra blanket if you need it?"
Markos didn't answer her immediately, gathering the blanket he did have closer around himself. "I'm used to it."
In the soft illumination of the campfire, the silence grew large and tense. Elias's eyes glinted red as he wearily watched the strange creature that sat beside his master from the warmth of the horse's side. The light crackle of the fire and the babble of the stream echoed in the cavern. Outside the storm wailed faintly like a forgotten ghost. His ears perked for a moment and he glanced towards the gloom before laying his head on his paws again in resignation. The horse lifted his head to look at the dog before it settled back down again with a huff.
The human and elf sat casting sidelong glances at each other, less than a breath away from touching but deigning not to. The templar huddled under a thick blanket with his brows knitted in tense contemplation and the mage rolled the tuning orb in her hands. Neither seemed to know what to do now.
"I don't know how long it will be until the storm passes." Sintija laid on top of her blanket beside Markos, stretching as she spoke. "It's just us to fill the silence. What's it like? Did you grow up where I found you that first time at the pool?"
Markos let out an awkward cough to clear his throat as he finally turned his head to fully look at the Sintija. His expression appraised Sintija in a way she wasn't sure how to interpret. "Give me a moment. This has been to strange a day for me to answer sober." He shivered looking at her to shake off some sort of chill, reaching for his canteen and took a deep drink of a pungent fluid.