truth

“You have to leave? Why?” I asked.

“My people need me. Simple as that,” she replied.

“After all those adventures we’ve had, you’re just going to leave?”

“Just like that.”

“How about that werewolf in the forest? Doesn’t that mean a thing to you?”

“Yeah..”

“And the illusion that wizard lured us into? We ended up in a desert!”

“Hold on, it was you who got tricked; I told you not to go in!”

Trying to think of a response, I paced around in a circle. She picked up her staff and started
to leave. I was too busy pacing to notice her walking away.

“So what? Are you just going to let me leave?” she asked.

She looked towards me, with her eyes fixated on me, like a tiger focused on its prey. I
searched through my bag, frantically searching for a memento. My hands hit a round,
metallic object. I pulled the medallion out and showed it to her. Its surface reflected against
the sun, the light as bright as ten thousand stars blazing in the night, each star as clear as the
memories of the prison that we were forced to stay in, memories we would never forget.

The prison had been created in a section of the coliseum that we were forced to fight in, or
die. That was life for a few weeks: entertain the masses, win, rest and be prepared for the
next foe that we would face. At midday, a meager ration of bread and water. Sometimes
there would not be enough to go around, and a fight would break out where the cafeteria for
the staff was. Then the rebels would be killed. There were never any extra rations; every time
someone died in the renegade fights, the food was immediately picked up by the staff and
eaten right in our faces.

If you were to lose in battle, you would die. If the masses weren’t entertained, you would die.
If you died, your body was tossed to the sides of the ring for the survivors to gather, after
the customers left. Not a prayer was said for the departing souls, not a notice sent to their
families, not even names to be remembered. There was always someone to replace them the
next day. For the survivors of the day, at nighttime, we would be sent out to gather and place
the corpses onto a cart, which carried the remains and dumped it into a nearby grave site.

She wasn’t as strong as everybody else, so she had trouble lifting the bodies onto the cart.
Then, she would get whipped. I’d try to help her but the slavers supervising the task was
informed not to let anyone assist others. The first night in the cell, she told me the whip
stung like “a thousand bees stinging you as you ran through a forest of cacti, then having
your best friend slap you in the face.” The whip itself was an enchanted whip, as we found
out from one of the others being held prisoner. To protect her, she had to prepare a
protection spell to use later in the day, to cast when no one was around. They did not allow
any form of sorcery from the prisoners.

At nighttime, they would give us gruel as murky, powdery white as a swamp is black, to eat
before blowing out the torches. Our cell was completely empty. It was just a large stone box,
with us inside. We would sleep in one of the corners away from the bars. I would sit down
and rest my head on the cold stone and she would sleep on my shoulder. Then daylight
would come, seeing the rays of light through the holes of the cold metal bars lifted my spirits
a bit. Soon after, I would realize where I was.

One night, we had a visitor, and I was alerted to this by a nudge from her. It was one of the
staff one of the “enforcers” to keep the prisoners working, the one that always whipped her.
He had brought a torch to light the way with him. She had her mouth covered so tight as to
not even let a breath escape. Her face looked like a blown up puffer fish. Her eyes wide, as
large as a deer’s eyes right before it was about to get hit by an incoming car, streaming with
tears. The worker was trying to keep quiet, only snickering. Apparently, he was not aware
that I had awakened. I slowly got up, so as to not startle the others in the cells or the worker.
I struck one blow to the neck with the blade of my hand and he was knocked unconscious.

I asked her, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, nothing happened, he just tried to, you know. All he did was…….pervert!” she said,
then shuddered.
“Hey, keep it quiet, okay?!” I whispered.
She nodded and sat down. I frantically searched his pocket and belt.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Searching for…” I said, and pulled out a ring of keys, “this!”
“Yay!”

We opened the door and threw him down the hallway. The torch was snuffed out and using
barely a whisper, she cast a cloak spell about us. Down the hallway, to where the “enforcer”
was previously guarding, we snuck in the shadows, through the back doors, to freedom.
—————-

“Don’t make this so hard.” she said, eyes softening, “I have to leave.”
“But..” I began to say, but was interrupted.
“‘But’ nothing! Who are you to tell me to journey with you? Don’t you think I want to?”
“These last few months with you haven’t been that bad. Enjoyed them, even,” I said, trying
to smile.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Nothing!”
“So did I,” she said, smiling back.
I couldn’t say anything. Nothing would come out.
“What’ll you do now?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “Travel some more.”
“Next time you’re in the area, stop by.”
“Okay, but I want you to have this,” I said, while tossing the coin to her.
“I guess this is good-bye.”
“Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.”

I watched as she walked away, into the darkness of the forest, sheltering those beneath its
leaves from the sunlight. Every individual cell in my body felt ready to pull her back. I gave
up on my feelings and collapsed to my knees, with the sun beating down and the wind
blowing every now and then. Night finally came.

“We’ll meet again, someday.”