A Hillside, to the South of the Rose
Aremu snorted. “You’re welcome,” he said. His left hand was aching, soundly, worse with each tug, but finally the knot came loose, and he could undo the rope. He’d been about a second from cutting it through with his knife. There were indents left in his pants, cramped spots where it had pinched into his hips as well, although it was very little compared to the brutal ache in his shoulders and the tightness all down his back.
He tossed the rope off to the side, leaving Gideon to undo his as well, if he cared to.
Aremu scooted back, slowly; he closed his eyes, and lay back in the grass at the edge of the cave, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face and upper body. The wind was startlingly cold, a Dentis breeze whisked in off the Tincta Basta. He grinned, breathing it in, feeling all at once the prickling chill and the heat of the sun; it was solidly overhead still, although starting to dip down towards the horizon. He couldn’t have said how long they’d been in the cave, moments ago; it had felt like houses. He was startled to think, when he opened his eyes and squinted at the horizon, that it couldn’t even have been a full house.
Aremu groaned; he stretched himself out in the grass, and eased up, slowly. He ached, but it was a good, fulfilled sort of ache; it was the sort of ache that would heal with a night or two of rest, and perhaps a bath. He was not fond of them, as a general rule, but just now the thought of being immersed in hot water was astoundingly pleasant.
Aremu propped one leg up, rubbing his face with his hand once more, and glanced at Gideon again, then away. He found a hold on the rocks on top of the small slit in the ground – from even a short distance, he thought, it would be all but invisible – and levered himself up to his feet with a pained grunt. He stumbled, slightly, and straightened himself up, all the bones in his back cracking and popping with the motion.
Aremu rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around. They’d come a good distance inland, but not so far he couldn’t see the Mahogany, and the curve of it around the edges of the Rose. It would be a long walk back, but not unbearably long; he was tired at the thought of it, but grateful too – grateful to be upright and squinting in the pale winter sun.
“Are you heading back to the Rose?” Aremu asked, glancing down at Gideon. He felt oddly – he would not particularly have been sorry to part ways with the other man, but that he wanted to see it through. They had come this far together; he was not sure why, quite, but it felt strange to leave him here, even now that they were out of the cave.