Sword of Ersus by Arthur Newman

Author:Arthur Newman [Newman, Arthur]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Running-

Running-

Slowing-

Slower-

Jogging-

Fast-walking-

And-

AND-

Bursting through the front gates of her parent’s estate, we rush our way down through the front garden, a blur of flowers and more around us as the winding path takes us closer to the front door, and with a final explosion of energy, we come screeching to a halt!

Doubling over, breathless, we mind ourselves long enough to stand straight and share the enjoyment of laughter, her voice like a song as she wipes the tears from her eyes, having laughed so hard she wept, and holding her slim tummy, and her cheeks are a rosy red and sweat beads slowly trail her head, to which she quickly wipes them away.

“That f-final… last stretch…” I take a deep breath and release it. “Getting to the door-”

“The adrenaline rush is so fun!” She fist bumps the air, punching at it and almost dancing lightly on her toes, slightly spinning before wobbling. “Ooo, going dizzy-”

I laugh, putting my arms out in case she needs me to catch her, but she swipes me away as quickly as she had done the sweat beads and releases a blooming smile as if this were the middle of spring…

“I’m so happy,” she says, smoothing out her clothes and whipping her hood back, at last, shaking her head lightly to release the strands to the fresh air once more.

“Me too,” I say, and that’s that, I have little more to say or do than slowly pull my hood back and place my right hand onto the pommel of my sword. I guess… I’m happy too.

“I can’t believe all of the things that happened… all of those stops! It might as well be night.” She looks around, and I do the same, observing the gentle hues of orange that crest the horizon. Did it really take that long? I suppose, without any real knowledge of time, we probably spent a lot more time with Fiona than we ever thought we did.

“That child pointing us out was so nerve-wracking.” She brushes her hands up and back through her hair, straightening it out. “I can’t believe the little child thought we were preachers!”

I didn’t really get it either—I suppose, we’re dressed, kinda-like priests. Well, hardly, if not for a suspicious cloak, we’re more like two thieves. “Well, at least we escaped that situation quickly.” It was definitely a moment of nervousness. We both turned in horror, mostly because the little girl, I think, tugged on Astrea’s cloak as we passed by. It’s not so bad that it was her, but we’ve already discussed on our way here that we don’t know how many people might have gotten a good enough look at our faces.

“Not quick enough,” she replies glumly. “Not as bad as the group of knights.”

“I know right,” I say, remembering how we turned a corner into a whole pack of them.

Astrea laughs nervously. “Too close for comfort!”

“Agreed,” I answer, sharing another, smaller laugh with her. Seeing how she tries to make herself look as nice as possible before entering her parent's home, I think I should do the same.

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