Hummingbirds Know Where to Fly by E. C. Roderick

Author:E. C. Roderick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sandy Pier Press

Twenty-Three

At daybreak the camp stirred with men pacing around collecting their belongings, readying themselves to move out. In approximately a half hour, we were setting out on the road continuing due west.

I rode on Oakley alongside Leif mounted high on Blaze at the end of the procession line. Finley rode tall in military fashion on his horse in the vanguard, as it was clear that the brothers were in disagreement with each other and cared not to share in each other’s company for the time being. But after a while, Finley dropped behind the traveling troops until he reached us at the back of the procession and rode beside Leif. He started talking to Leif in Scottish and Leif responded in their language. Their conversation sounded even toned, but serious also. It didn’t seem they were arguing anymore and that things were settling between them as they conversed. I ventured a glance toward Leif during their discussion and happened to glimpse at Finley as he coincidentally caught my eye while insinuating me. I realized then that I was most likely the topic of their conversation, and felt somewhat uneasy about it.

When they had finished speaking, Finley urged his horse forward and returned to the front of the line. Leif rode quietly beside me after Finley returned to his position while I was feeling uncomfortable that the brothers had quarreled because of me.

“I’m sorry for causing an argument between you and Finley,” I said finally, interrupting the silence between us. Leif suddenly turned his gaze to me and looked a little unexpected.

“Och, never ye mind, ceisdein. We shall recover fair enough,” he assured with an appreciative look.

“I hope so,” I said.

“Certainly,” he promised and winked reassuringly at me. I smiled a little at him, believing him, but still troubled by it. “The men are presently weary. We shall cease momentarily fur a respite. Can ye hold fast fur a bit more?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I replied, undoubtedly feeling tired right now also.

“Alrecht,” he said adequately.

Soon, we arrived at a rushing brook and finally dismounted our horses for a break. The men marching were pleased to settle for a while to rest their tired feet and to take a smoke along with a drink. Leif led our horses to the stream for them to drink from it, and while they were drinking water, he reached inside one of the saddle bags, pulling forth his wooden canteen. He uncorked the lid and gulped all that was left inside of it before kneeling over the rocks at the stream to dip his canteen beneath the rushing water, filling it to the brim. In a moment, when he was done filling it, he straightened and handed the weighty canteen to me.

“I think I remember you saying water can kill you,” I reminded as I took the canteen from him and started gladly drinking the cold, crisp, fresh water from it. An amused eyebrow arched high over his eye.

“This is rushing water. I meant still water,” he clarified.

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