Creative Writing: The Road To Bondra

The Road to Bondra

Thywyn 's lips cut across his face like a dusky scar. He lifted a shaky hand to wipe the sweat beading on his forehead. "Haleal, I am sure it 's not contagious. Look at our children, they 're still strong. . . healthy."

Haleal shook his head. "I 'm sorry Thywyn. The council voted. Vayn is the best healer we have and even with her knowledge, you still weaken. We just can 't take a chance on this, not when the clan 's survival is at stake." Vayn 's head poked out from behind the curtained front of the wagon, her face pale beneath her tan. Bracing herself on the wagon seat, she took a deep breath as if breathing in strength to speak. "At least take the children Haleal," she pleaded. "Like you said, I am the best healer

Calyona pulled at his hand. "I 'm tired Rheathe and I have to go wee. Please can we stop for a while?"

Rheathe sighed, gripping his sister 's hand. The sky was beginning to lighten in the east and fog from Bondra Bay already obscured most of the land to the west. They had only rested on their journey when his seven-year-old sister Calyona insisted, in a seven-year-old sister kind of way, by sitting down in the middle of the road and refusing to move. Still they had made good time and Rheathe knew they both needed more than just a half hour’s rest.

To the east, the land was cleared and ready for planting. Rheathe could make out the shadows of a farm. "We 'll rest over there in one of those building, a barn or something, Calyona. Just a little ways further, all right?" Pulling her off the road, they start across the field and into the morning.

After eating some of the hard bread and cheese from the pack, Calyona immediately fell into an exhausted sleep. She slept with her head pillowed on Rheathe 's legs. Although Rheathe dozed through the morning, he was afraid to sleep and scenes from the prior day

His father had lasted long enough to get them within a few miles of Lothohald 's Gate. Rheathe had driven the wagon through the evening. Thywyn sat propped at the front of the wagon. The blue and yellow patterned curtain pulled down and used to wrap his mother. Calyona sobbing quietly as she rode on the seat next to her brother. They both listened to their father as he instructed them between fits of coughing. Those directions now echoed in Rheathe 's head as he waited for his sister to wake.

His father had charged him with taking care of Calyona. But Rheathe 's twelve-year-old confidence, shaken by the events of the past couple of days, made him unsure of even taking care of himself.

His father had warned against letting anyone know they were Breden He 'Alfar. Rheathe knew that if recognized as a half-breed, neither 'Alfar nor Human, they would be outcast. It confused Rheathe to think his proud heritage as descendants of Wista Warriors was something to hide, but he had felt the sting of ridicule more than once in his twelve years. His father said the other races had short memories. Still, he knew keeping their heritage a secret would be easy as long as they kept their hair over their ears. He and his friends