Free Frey by Melissa Wright

stepped down beside him. The
three stallions followed Steed to a nearby tree and I watched as he
fed them apples from its branches.
    I looked back to Chevelle.
He was watching me. I wanted to ask him if this was where he was
from but he and the setting seemed so serene I was afraid to
disturb it. I looked again out over the lake to the mountains. If I
was incarcerated for a thousand years in the village, I would want
this memory. I breathed deep; the air was cool, moist, and smelled
so unlike the harsh floral scents that saturated every part of the
village. I could smell the deep green moss covering the rocks at my
feet, the fir trees that edged the east bank, even the soil smelled
richer. My eyes were closed as I took it in. I felt something brush
my cheek. Chevelle .
I opened my eyes and realized he had brushed debris from my face. I
wiped a hand across my forehead and felt the dried mud crumble
away. I looked down; it was caked on the fabric of my pants and
splattered about everywhere.
    I walked to the edge of the
water and then in, clothes and all, until I was waist deep. I
relaxed and fell back, gliding under the dark cool water and
floating back to the surface. I marveled at the size of the
mountains as they seemed to dissolve into the blue haze of the
sky. Would this ever seem real?
    Eventually, I made my way
back. I was surprised to find a shelter had already been set up for
me. Thank goodness .
I hadn’t considered wet clothes and cool air as I floated in the
water. Chevelle nodded toward the hut as he prepared a fire. When I
entered I found my blankets were on a raised bed of birch branches
and a small flame lit the room. My pack lay on the bed, along with
a pile of material. I examined the material and was relieved to
discover it was a stack of dry clothes.
    As I pulled on the gray
pants I wondered if Chevelle had made the first set, not Junnie as
I had assumed. Or maybe she had packed extra for me. Why hadn’t I considered he’d still be following
me? The shirt was fitted to my shape but of
a heavier fabric and a pair of boots was at the bottom of the
stack; it must be colder in the mountains. I remembered stepping
out of the cold wet gown on the bank of the creek and dressing in
the new clothes, finding the scroll, the map. Chevelle's words came
back to me ... I’m sorry, Freya… I let you
down at the creek… I was distracted… should have been paying closer
attention… should have prevented this… too late
now .
    The smell of cooked meat cut
through my thoughts. I ran a hand through my wet hair and walked
out to the fire. The scene wasn’t any less impressive this time. I
sat on a large rock facing the lake and Chevelle brought me a plate
of food and sat beside me. He’d apparently been gathering while I
bathed. We had a feast. Steed tore a piece of meat from the spit
and sat to my other side as we ate quietly looking out across the
lake… to the mountains .
     
    The mountains at dawn were so much more
intimidating and I was hesitant to leave our camp. Everything had
begun to seem real and reality was much harder to deal with. I
tried to distract myself as we rode east around the lake. I
concentrated on naming the species of plants and trees we passed to
keep my eyes off the mountains but there were so many I had never
seen before that it started to remind me of the differences rather
than distract me from them. So I bantered with Steed regarding
horses and imps and everything I could come up with to keep him
talking. Chevelle rode quietly behind us, casually scanning our
surroundings. I wondered if he was enjoying the scenery or playing
lookout.
     
    We rode a few days to and in the base of the
mountains. We had stopped to camp when, over dinner, Steed
announced he would be leaving us the next morning, heading east.
His easy humor had become a comfort to me during the long days, our
quiet evenings a pattern I knew I would miss. The disappointment
must have shown on my face.
    He reached a hand up and