Sixteen – 02

He emerged from the dark corridors a few moments later and into the shadows of the tents.  The fires flickered, burning low as the graveyard hours of the night wore on.  Whoever had the early morning shift would add more wood to them, stir them up in time for Tala to start on breakfast, but he’d be long gone by then.

With any luck I’ll be long gone by then, anyway.  He felt a momentary pang of conscience as he thought of them waking up and finding him gone.

I can’t think about that.  I can’t.  If I do, I’ll never do what I need to do to protect them, and that’s leave.  Phelan took a deep breath and exahled it slowly.  There weren’t any other choices.  Every moment he delayed, he put the people he loved in danger.  That wasn’t something that he was willing to countenance a moment longer.

He trotted silently away from the fire, toward the loosely secured flap that served as one of two primary access points to the tent.  Once he was out into the cold, it was only a matter of clearing the ward-lines and being on the road.

I’ll retrace my steps south, then around the lake and north again.  If I try to go straight north and then around the lake, I’ll end up freezing to death.  He coudl still feel his sister and Teague far to the east, but they’d all be better served if he headed in the other direction.

Besides, everyone would expect me to head east, to see Aoife and make sure she’s all right.  No one would expect I’d head south and west.  Doing the unexpected was often the only thing that kept him alive.

He was alone as he slipped through the narrow gap between the tent wall and the open flap, not a soul in sight, not even a ghostly one.  The night was clear as a bell and colder than the Irish Sea in January.  His breath steamed in the stillness as he looked around, momentarily marveling at the starlit sky.  That was the one amazing thing about the end of cities, of modern civilization–all the wonders of the galaxy were suddenly visible again, laid out against the black velvet of a winter sky.  Looking at the sky above, he felt a thousand years younger than he was now, thrust back to his youth when times were simpler, when life was next complicated.

He tore his gaze away from the sky and tugged his hood up and into place, drawing it tight around himself.  There was a light flickering in the watchtower.  Paul had the night watch.  He would be in the tower with his rifle, bundled against the cold night air.

Be unseen, Wanderer.  You remember how.

Swallowing hard, Phelan drew light and shadow around himself like a cloak and headed for the gates, fighting to keep his boots from crunching on the snow with each step.  If Paul looked at him dead-on, he’d be seen.  If he didn’t, then there was a chance that he’d make his escape cleanly.

Phelan had no illusions.  He knew that his friends would go to great lengths to make sure he’d say.  They thought it was for his own safety and theirs, but they were wrong.

I’ve survived alone before.  I’ll do it again.

He whispered a prayer and made his run for the gates.

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This entry was posted in Book 4, Chapter 16, Story, Winter. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Sixteen – 02

  1. Bye Phelan. hmmmmmm. Time will tell.

    Thanks for another post. I was missing these odd two-world dwellers.

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