Chapter 22 - Uncertainties

                                    

                                          
We didn't take the tunnels this time. It was a little surprising to me as the day wore on that Bohai was taking us on a different route, but I thought little of it. I was simply glad for the fact that I didn't have to face the pressing darkness in my current frame of mind.
                          
As night fell, we pitched camp in a small outcropping of trees that helped shield us from the chilled wind that had picked up the minute the sun had ducked its golden head behind the mountainside. Bohai removed thick blankets from his pack and laid them out for us. Looking at me apologetically, he offered me some bread and dried meat.
                          
"We'll be able to light a fire tomorrow when the sun will mask its existence, but it's too dangerous tonight." He explained.
                          
David flopped down on his blankets and began munching on his own bit of bread. He had tried to make light conversation at the start of our trip, but neither Bohai nor I had been in the mood, so he had fallen silent. The healers of the Ninth had done their work well. He had more energy and was less tired than he had been after a full day's walk than he had been for the entirety of the trip thus far.
                          
He looked at me and smiled cheerfully, and I felt a twinge of guilt that I couldn't return the expression with matched enthusiasm. I was glad for the dim light which prevented him from seeing my sorrow in full detail. Otherwise, I was certain he would ask questions for which I had no logical answer.
                          
"We haven't gone that far from the Ninth, is it still dangerous to light a fire?" David said between bites.
                          
Bohai drew a breath, and I could feel him tense slightly beside me. "No." Was his only response.
                          
Silence fell around us as the last of the birds went to roost. Chilled winds washed over our camp, and I shivered, nibbling at my food. Besides me, Bohai shifted slightly, and I could see by his silhouette that he was staring at me. Uncomfortably, I shifted beneath his scrutiny as the silence filled with unspoken words.
                          
"I'll keep watch while you sleep." Bohai said suddenly, and I was glad of the excuse to set aside the pretense of eating and lie down.
                          
Sliding into the warmth of the blankets, I turned my gaze to the sky, and my jaw went slack at the sight above me. Millions of brilliant, twinkling stars were spread out like a blanket, and staring at them, I felt small and insignificant. The feelings, however, didn't bring discomfort but rather a sense of calm I hadn't experienced in a long, long time.
                          
In light of the enormous expanse above, my problems and I were miniscule, and I released a shuddering breath. For the first time in the skeins of my memories, my worry for what tomorrow would bring left me. Whatever was meant to happen would happen, and there was nothing my worries could do to change that reality, so overwhelmed by the peace bubbling up inside me, I slept.
                          
Dingy streetlamps cast faint light on a cobblestone street so coated in filth I could barely tell it was a street at all. Ramshackle buildings lined the way, their walls dripping with slime as if mud had rained from the sky rather than water. The scent of garbage and rotting food was so strong I was nearly overcome with nausea.
                          
A slight figure carrying a pack almost as big as himself trudged down the street. He was as filthy as the street itself with matted dark hair and baggy clothes that hung off his thin frame like a limp banana peel. His shoulders were stooped with exhaustion, and his eyes looked hollow and dead, but as he paused in front of one of the crooked doors, he straightened and brushed at the grime on his clothes as if that would help their appearance. Drawing a breath, he pasted a smile on his face and pushed the door open.
                          
"I'm home." He said, and his voice was full of the cheerful attitude he had assumed. "Okaa!" He called.
                          
I was drawn into the doorframe and watched him carefully sling the pack off his back. He removed his ragged shoes which were twice his actual size. As he looked around the room, a frown replaced his smile. He moved further into the room, and I followed.