"Holy cow," he said, pushing himself up to his knees. "For a second there, I thought I was back at home in bed, that all this hadn’t—" his smile faltered "—happened."
"Come on," she said with a half smile. "Get on up so I can pack your sleep mat."
After a bone-popping stretch, he got to his feet, taking his folded coat with him. While he slipped into it, he watched Sharna take the makeshift sleep mat, fold it and stuff it into her supply bundle.
"The overweight reduce their food intake carefully! The carnival’s hotdog eating contest! Our breakfast must be small in content and eaten quickly, that we do not lose any more time before we continue our quest."
All eyes turned to Roxx.
"I have last night’s beef stew ready," the cook said, waving a hand at the covered pot over glowing coals, and pulling the cloth cover off the stacked loafs, said, "And some bread."
Reaction to his offering was agreeable enough, and the Party began lining up to receive their shares of breakfast. Roxx produced a stack of bowls and handful of spoons from a drawer of the push cart and placed them next to the stack of bread. He then retrieved a knife to slice the bread and ladle to dish out the stew from another drawer. And thus began the serving of breakfast.
"I’ll get yours," Sharna stopped Orlon before his first step and headed to do so.
Slipping hands into pants pockets, he watched the line form, and his eyes focused on his servant, Jujay. To his surprise, the old man had moved quickly enough, quicker than the Midget ever imagined he could, to end up second in line. Then his attention was drawn to five who joined in the line’s middle. He got a wave and wink from Tarl, followed by a secret point at Mishto Sharpaine and brief tongue wag.
His eyes rolled, landed on Ty the Parson who approached Sharna. The two got into a very private and very serious and very brief conversation. He wondered what that was about.
Sharna ended up last in line, just beating out a hurrying-to-get-in-line Ty the Parson, or so she thought. He stopped right beside her, a hand gripping her arm so tightly the skin turned white around his fingers. Her protestation of such gruff treatment was silenced when their eyes met. They stood there, unmoved, for a full minute before Ty the Parson, spasmotic movement of his hand shaking her like a petulant child in the hand of an upset parent, whispered in her ear:
"The spider to the fly! The uncared for brass knob! You did not lure Orlon, the Pure, purest of the pure, into your web last night, did you? Tarnish his much needed purity to insure victory in our quest to combat the evil that tirelessly seeks to take over the world…?"
"Of course not," she hissed in a whisper, taken aback by this uncalled for questioning of her integrity. Then she thought of her well known reputation when it came to her insatiable lust for men—her undeniable attraction to Orlon and whispered, "It was tough, I admit, Parson, but I stayed my temptation in my loyalty to this quest."
Ty the Parson looked deeply into her eyes for a long moment before nodding, and he spun on his heels and marched off. She watched him go for a half dozen steps, turned to look at the man she had vowed to protect on this journey. He looked at her questioningly. The reason for that look was clear in her mind and she replied with raised hands and a shrug. She turned back to matters at hand, making up the couple of steps she had lost in line.
Beef stew and a slice of bread was not the ideal choice for a breakfast meal to Orlon’s way of thinking, but on second thought he had never been on a journey before, so… He placed his hands on his stomach, smiled. It was filling, right choice or not, though he was not happy with the speed they were expected to eat it. But he understood the need for such speed. Ty the Parson was always in a hurry, and now that Orlon believed this quest was for real, he agreed that time was of the essence.
All around him the Party were preparing to begin the quest again, and one part of their preparation captured his attention. One by one, they stacked their supply bundles on Jujay’s back. He still had qualms about this treatment of his servant, and when the last bundle—the Campfire Girl’s tent—was added, heightening Jujay’s burden from ten to thirteen feet, he was of a mind to protest.
"Remember, he is a servant, Orlon, ol' buddy."
Orlon turned to find Tarl Bimbo standing beside him, hands in pockets, rocking on his heels.
"So," his best friend went on, "howd last night go?"
Orlon looked at him questioningly.
"Oh, come on," he said, eyes to the heavens. "You, Sharna, the night and…and…?"
Eyes rolling, Orlon said, "And she and I had a good night’s sleep."
Tarl looked deeply into his innocent blue eyes and saw it was true, and laughed. "Ah, man," he said. "Leave it to you to blow it!" He brought his rocking to a stop, elbowed his best friend and shook a pocketed hand, receiving a healthy jingle that put a broad smile on his face. "While you were…sleeping, I had a busy and profitable afternoon with three fancy dressed gentlemen that led to," he winked, "a rather busy night to follow."
With his last statement, he nodded vigorously, drawing Orlon’s eyes to Mishto Sharpaine, who was chatting with Jack, Carlo and Frank. He noticed while she kept up with their conversation, from time to time her eyes darted to look at Tarl and that each time they did a slight pink touched her cheeks. He inwardly smiled. Tarl, he felt, had made himself a girlfriend.
"Well, Orlon," Tarl changed subjects, turning deathly serious, "are you ready to continue our trip with these folks? By your choice to enter Dark Forest and face whatever horrors await us."
The question—its bluntly stated clarification of what that meant they would be facing and why sent a jolt through Orlon. He had not really thought about what the continued trip entailed this morning, or the choices of direction Ty the Parson had laid out before him and which he chose… His eyes darted to the slit-between-tree-trunks entrance to the forest, into his mind appeared the thorny bush bordered path beyond it, and he swallowed. And he quickly reasoned that he had no other choice but the path, considering the time it would save them.
When his eyes darted back to meet Tarl’s accusing eyes, he swallowed again and remembered something that just might get him out of this pickle.
"Yes, I’m ready," he answered the question and to the clarifying statement answered, "And when it comes to entering Dark Forest… You’ve found the companionship, the camaraderie you expected on this trip. Now we’re—you’re going to experience the adventure you expected as well." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocked on his heels and winked, adding, "It’ll all be part of the fun you anticipated this trip would be, won’t it."
Tarl gave him a double-take. That his best friend would throw his own words back in his face like this was…was, he had to admit, something he deserved. A sly smile creased his face. If Orlon wanted to throw words about, well, he could to.
"Or it could be," he said and, doing his best imitation of his best friend, quoted: "The chance to die in combat or worse."
Orlon stopped rocking, remembering his own words from the night before. A chill crawled along his spine, but he shook it off, looking at the warriors around them, his eyes finally stopping on Sharna, who stood a ways off, watching him and his environs cautiously. A sly smile to match Tarl’s creased his face.