Chapter Four.
Leif was 'chattier' than he had been. Maybe it was getting out of the city, maybe it was an appeal to get back his weapons, Ramona wasn't sure, but she was having a hard time keeping up with the hand gestures. She'd stare at him blankly till he repeated himself, and it took a few tries for her to even get close to what he was trying to explain to her. Every now and then, he'd wave her off - 'drop it'.
She hadn't felt this insensitive in a long time. At rock bottom, everyone was insensitive and no one cared. There was no time to care if you were rubbing someone the wrong way, and for the most part, whoever you were rubbing the wrong way probably deserved it. They were alcoholics, thieves, murderers. It was very possible Leif was all of these things, but she had hired him, and she couldn't really understand him.
His gestures also made her feel like she shouldn't talk, which seemed to give him enjoyment. Every now and then, after a few gestures from her, he'd cut her off and mimic "talk". Ramona's face would burn, and the first words out of her mouth would be a stutter.
She hadn't felt embarrassed in a long time, either. Usually didn't stick around long enough after doing something stupid to bother dwelling on it.
They'd decided to walk throughout most of the night, not wanting to get jumped. The outskirts of the city was a blend of quiet and populated, the sort of hushed that made your ears perk up and your attention more alert. Ramona eavesdropped as best as she could, but occasionally all she heard was rustling leaves.
There was the perk of Leif's chattiness, it didn't detract from the senses much. At times distracting, but he was even jumpier than she was.
Buggies would drive by, occasionally offering them a ride. Every time they would look only at Ramona, staring at her jacket. It was nice enough, they probably assumed that it was a pretty lady needing to get to the town next over, but one look at Leif and suddenly their tones would change. Higher pitched. Ramona would have taken advantage of their fear, get in the car and tell them not to stop till she said. In this situation, however, there was no point. The only person who really knew where they were going couldn't explain it to a driver.
There was also this slight problem that a gleam would glow in Leif's bad eye whenever these people showed up. Their posh cars, or their beautiful horses, either way there was this crook to his mouth, a pinch in his eyebrows. It caused Ramona to tap the top of the car faster, get whoever was driving to get going.
This became less of an occurrence as the woods got thicker, and the world got colder. The trees grew more dead and cold, the city lights not visible through the line of them any longer. They were reaching the center, where there was damn near no one on either side except the desperate and the nomadic, both of whom she either didn't want to talk to nor did they want to talk to her.
After a while, Leif's chattiness began to slow. The foliage was going unnoticed, the glowing beetles unremarked. It was that time of night when the sun had been gone for so long that the humidity just heightened, the ground's heat mixing with the cool night air. The dampness made Ramona cold, but the chill kept her awake. Her legs were starting to burn with tiredness, realizing now she'd been up since around this time the day prior. It'd been too long, and with her silent companion losing steam, they weren't going to make it much further.
"We should make camp."
Leif collapsed at the words. Ramona laughed and kicked him up. "Oi, I need your help making camp, fool." He laid himself out like a starfish on the ground, his hood had come down, and she saw how pale he was. A smile to his face, but still no blood there.
He moved to get up, but she pressed a boot against his chest and pushed him down. Eyebrows coming to knit, Ramona matched his expression and then put a toe on his shoulder wound.
"Idiot, you haven't changed your dressing at all, have ya?"
Weakly, he gestured that he was okay. Ramona bent down and ripped him to sitting upright, a move so fast he tottered a bit. Ramona sighed and knelt down to look at it.
Carrying everything of possible value on your person seemed like a bad idea, in case you get jumped or robbed, but at moments like this she was grateful she took the time to do it. Ramona had gauze, tape, ointment. Everything anyone would need except for the skill.
Ramona peeled off his jacket, and started to help him take off his hoodie. He gave her a wicked smile and rose his eyebrows suggestively, but with how aggressively Ramona tore his shirt off, he just snorted and let it go with a shrug. Ramona smirked back at him.
"I think I could do better than you, don't you think?" she scrunched her face up, teasing. He snorted again and raised his fingers like guns. Ramona actually chuckled at that. "I probably wouldn't kill them first if I were actually interested."
With a grin, Leif managed to roll up his own short sleeved tee, but Ramona noticed how damp it was. He had sweat right through it, a cold sweat that didn't really smell of anything but iron. The wraps on his arm, they were soaked in blood.
"Take off the shirt, it's useless now. It'll just make you colder."
He reached down to get it, but once it got to his wounded shoulder Leif got a bit stuck. Ramona moved to just rip it off again, but the bleeding arm got her feeling sympathetic. She helped him pull off the sleeve, trying to be careful, and she was pretty sure she was failing. He flinched and winced, and she tried to blame it on the stickiness of the blood and sweat, but she probably was rougher than she meant to be.
"Sorry," she mumbled. Once she got the tee off the hurt arm, Leif just let it just hang around his neck, next to a chain she hadn't noticed before with a ring as a pendant. It attracted her attention for a moment, but then she saw his scars.
There were many, more than herself, which surprised her. Scars were lessons, and she had to learn a lot when she first set foot in this country, so to see more on this man made her shiver. Some were burns, but other scars were obscure, cause unknown. Possible branding, cuts, maybe the same weapon that had ruined his eye had ripped open his stomach -- either way, it was a nasty menagerie.
There was too much to see, too much to wonder about. Instead, Ramona refocused on his damp shirt, hanging around his neck. She tugged on it, "This needs to be removed. It will only make you sick," she said, enunciating every word.
With a curt nod he began tugging on it. In the meantime, Ramona fumbled around with the bandages. Some of the blood had dried, the noise crusty and crisp, coming off with a peel - Ramona knew that had to hurt.
"Stupid boy," she muttered, but she felt guilty herself. She had dressed it in the first place, she should have recognized that they hadn't changed it in hours.
Quickly, he tensed up, and pointed behind Ramona. She took out her gun and pointed it behind her, but did not remove her attention from Leif.
That was a mistake.
An arrow shot by her ear and stuck in the ground beside her companion. Only a scratch to the surface, a slight sting, but still enough to put her on edge. That was possibly a warning shot, but it could be that it was a lousy archer. She crossed her fingers for the latter.
Spinning around, she kept one arm behind her to feel for Leif's presence, and kept her other gun trained into the dark. She couldn't see a thing.
By the time she heard the bowstring, she was near too late. Leif jerked her sideways, the arrow narrowly avoiding her hand, so that she was next to him. Most likely not an amateur.
Leif's hand wandered in front of her, trying to figure out where the archer was. At times like this, Ramona was glad she was convinced to learn how to use a dual action pistol. With it, she could make single bullseye shots, but she could also get off several bullets in a single moment.
Leif pulled back his hand when she moved to pull out her pistol. Ramona flicked her gun out and fanned bullets across the trees in rapid succession. The mass fell, but it didn't drop like she'd killed it. Just disturbed it. On her feet, she waited for the archer's next move, took out her other gun. "I see you now." She took a step forward. "What do you want?"
They started, and they were incredibly quick. She shot at the mass, but it moved before the bullet hit. She shot at it again, and it moved. Putting away her guns, she took out a knife and braced herself in front of Leif.
A knife really wasn't her strongest weapon. But once upon a time, the first time she got stabbed, she was told that only cowards rely on guns alone.
Trying to follow the pattern of movement of the archer, she couldn't get fast enough. Even though she saw where their leg flexed, where their body inclined, she couldn't match them. Quickly, they were in her face, hand on her throat and other hand controlling the knife.
Fuck, shit, damn - she kneed the person off of her enough to loosen the grip on the throat. With a gasp, she aimed to move away from them, but her own knife was targeted at her heart. Or rather, Leif's knife.
"Crown?" A woman's voice. Went well with the height, stature, movements. Smarter than Cat but not smarter than herself. Ramona wasn't sure how she compared to Leif.
Ramona worried this would happen. This was an issue with being foreign: she could try to mask her accent, but unless she shaved her head and magically lightened her skin, she was always going to be noticeable, especially where she hung around. The only issue was that Ramona didn't remember the archer in the crowd, or even from the downtown district.
She felt a hand on her waist, trailing around her hip in a search. Leif was trying for her gun. She needed to stall, give him time to find it and shoot this bitch with his knife at her throat.
"I don't know what you're talking about." The archer then jammed the knife into Ramona's chest, blade piercing the skin ever so slightly. Ramona's heart beat louder, heavier, getting too close to the edge of her chest where the knife was concerned.
"Crown. Now."
"Oh, I don't have it," Ramona said. It wasn't confident, though, it was breathless.
The woman's face scrunched ugly and twisted; she gave a spitting shriek before she puffed her shoulders, a strong tell of her next move. Yet, Leif shot her before she could kill Ramona.
Wrangled screams, the woman doubled back and grabbed her hip. There appeared to be no exit wound. She would die from this.
"That's a tough wound there. Probably won't last the night," Ramona mumbled. Her hand was on her throat, hoping to soothe it. "Who sent you?"
"Nothing but the want of money, you whore."
Ramona raised her eyebrows and walked over. "I'll admit, you had the upper-hand before. But now," she placed her boot over the wound. "I can make your last moments on earth more painful than you imagined. Now, answer the question."
The woman spat at Ramona, most of it falling on her own face. "Pathetic." Stepping her boot down, the dirt on the bottom of her shoe barely touched the gash before the woman started screaming. Ramona backed up. "C'mon now."
Evidently, Leif thought this was taking too long. Ambling upright, he stomped over and kicked her in her hip. Ramona gasped and grabbed him by his good arm, swinging him back. The woman did nothing but scream.
"Do you want the whole area to hear this!? Don't do that."
He stuck out his tongue and gripped his stomach mockingly. In response, Ramona punched him, then pushed him back.
She was crying, gripping her hip, teeth grinding so hard she probably couldn't get her jaw open enough to say anything. It looked excruciating. Ramona knelt down and grabbed a pain relieving ointment, made out of slippery elm and mint, and applied it.
The breathing grew less harsh, the smell itself was supposed to be soothing. It was a favorite alternative medicine back home.
"I don't believe you found us on your own. You're fast, you're even skilled, but I still doubt it. The only person who could have tipped you off is another person who knew where we were going. Now tell me, who sent you this way?"
The weeping was slower now, and with a sniff, she said, "I don't know his name. He was in nice clothes. Glasses. Had bruises all over his face."
Ramona furrowed her eyebrows, then turned to look at Leif. "That sounds like the curator." She backed away from the archer. "Does that sound like the curator to you?" Her voice was pointed, sharp, intentional.
Leif made a gesture, but then agreed with a sullen nod. He knew something. He knew something, and that pissed Ramona right off.
The archer was still groaning on the floor.
"Anything else I should know?" Ramona asked. The woman began shaking her head vehemently, gripping her hip and squeezing tight.
"Can you help me?" she asked. Tears still streaming down her dirt streaked face. Ramona hung her head.
"I don't think so."
"You could just kill me then. That'd be better than this," the archer said with a gasp.
Placing her hand over her own bleeding chest, Ramona shook her head. Her voice was harsher this time. "I don't think so."
Standing upright, Ramona directed her attention back to Leif. He gave a sheepish smile and pointed between the two of them, then motioned talking.
"You bet we need to talk, and boy do we have a lot to talk about." She then looked at his unfinished bandaging and groaned. "First, let's finish with your wound."
He put his hand over his wound and shrugged, then winced at his own movement.
"You're a dumbass."
Pitifully, he nodded, and plopped down on the ground far away from the woman he shot. Ramona got her haphazard med-kit ready and sat down in front of him.
"Let's get this done. Then I vote we keep moving. Are we close?"
Leif nodded, but then shook his head. He gestured again, 'we need to talk'.
"I know."
After that, she worked in silence.
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