Outside of Rainrest, the caravan camp was abuzz with activity. With supplies purchased the day before, their wagons were heavy-laden and seating was an important process for the thirty men and women of Vaenuth’s caravan.
“Vae,” said Tagg, stepping into her tent. “Want me to start packing yours?”
Most of the tents and pavilions were already packed up.
Vae was writing a letter, at her fold-up desk. She finished with a small signature and then nodded to him. “I’m done in here now,” she said. “Let me get my trunk together.” She had a small chest for clothes and personal effects. She dabbed a bit of ointment from a small wooden container and wiped the light blue substance on each shoulder and her forehead. It would absorb the worst of the heat, once they got going. Thankfully, most of Rainrest was covered in jungle canopy. It was in the desert and mountains that Vaenuth really needed to use different creams. Most of the time, she tanned, but, unlike the dark skinned men and women of her group, she did sometimes burn in the heat of the sun. Today, she had a tight, sweat-stained white binding around her torso, to keep everything in place, and loose, breathable grey pants on, hanging around her knees.
She put a canteen of water, a paper-wrapped loaf of bread, and a coin purse into her saddle, and hauled it up to her shoulder, smudging some of the cream she had applied. “Thanks Tagg,” she said, as she walked past him.
The camp was almost fully disassembled, and the sun had only started to cast long shadows through the forest. The nearby town was quiet, and only its guards moved about. It had rained yesterday, and a few lines of drying clothes were the last thing to be packed into their wagons. If trading with the Slithers and desert dwellers was as simple as trading with men and women, one wagon of coin would be sufficient for many loads of purchased goods.
But in the Expanse, coin was just a heavy metal, and survival was the only way to trade.
“Elli,” she called, to the nearby group of women. “Food almost ready?”
Their quartermaster was a short woman with scars on her face from a Primal attack in her youth. She was close to ten years older than the twenty-seven year old caravan master. She waved to Vaenuth and tossed her an orange. “For the ride,” she said. “I’ll have eggs and fried boar ready soon.”
Not all of the women helped Elli, though. Two were combatants. Four helped take care for their animals, and took Vaenuth’s saddle from her when she reached the line of wagons. “We’ll get Belmyre ready,” Lurro said quietly, with a smile.
Banno was helping out too. He brushed past Vaenuth with a huge wooden crate in his arms. Bare-chested, his torso was covered in smooth round muscles and a handful of black and green tattoos. Another, smaller, man was following him with a chest. He tried to bow to Vaenuth but couldn’t with the weight. The two of them set their loads on the back of a wagon bed and turned back to her. “Grand morning for a ride, isn’t it, Vae?” Banno asked, with a big smile.
“It is,” she grinned. She had known him since before she purchased the caravan, when she worked at his side. Back then, Banno had suspected she was a woman, though she hid herself in a similar chest-binding wrap, and had shaved her head. Now, she had let the top of her scalp grow neck length brown hair, thought the sides and back of her head were shaved. She glanced at the unfamiliar man next to Banno. “Who’s this?”
“Fresh meat,” Banno chuckled. “Came down from the town earlier, looking for work. Told him he might see snake people, and he just shrugged. We’ll see if he shrugs when they’re looking at him with their slit eyes, huh?”
The younger man laughed uncomfortably. “I’m Hulean,” he said, and tipped his head to her.
Vaenuth smiled. “I’m Vaenuth,” she replied. “Welcome to my troop. Are you just going to help with moving?”
“For now,” Banno said.
“Wherever you need me,” Hulean said, at the same time. He added, “Though I’ve never handled a sword.”
Banno chuckled. “You’ll be fine, ruff ’.”
“The Slithers aren’t that scary,” Vaenuth replied. To her, humans instilled far more fear. She had lived in the dark recesses of humanity for long enough before her escape. Hulean seemed alright though. He was clean shaven, with dark olive skin and a repeating lined pattern shaved throughout his short hair.
“Meal is ready!” Elli shouted.
“An hour,” Vaenuth declared, loudly. “Then we’re on our way.”
She ate with Lurro and Tagg, and discussed their route. From Rainrest to Nokire was about ten days, and from Nokire to the end of the Yurna mountain highlands another three. None of them were certain how long it would take to reach the Logren River lands, for the caravan had never been that way. Most of the time, they journeyed straight north, into the Expanse until their scouts encountered a Slither tribe. Over the last two years of running the caravan, Vaenuth had lost six scouts to Slither tribes that weren’t interested in trade, and skirting the Scalelands as they planned to do on this venture might cost her dearly. According to the map, once crossing into the Expanse from Yurna, it was about 350 miles. Could take anywhere from two weeks to a month.
Soon, the hour of eating and socializing was done. They packed up the remaining supplies in short order, and everyone mounted their horses, camels, or wagons. Banno sat on the front wagon, for no horse would bear his weight on such a long journey. Sometimes, when he got restless, he would just walk beside the caravan.
Vaenuth was surprised to see that Hulean had brought his own mount for the job, a tall, lean Magra with characteristic dark brown fur and soft mane. He had already made some friends in the caravan it seemed, for he rode with a couple of scouts in the middle of the procession.
Belmyre, Vae’s horse, was a Yurnese mount, a big stallion with well-groomed jet black hair. She had ridden him for years, even back when she had worked for old Master Jolikar, the previous owner of the caravan. She gave him a couple berries she had picked near the quartermaster’s fire pit, and scratched his muzzle, before giving him the bit and fitting on the leather bridle. She climbed up into her saddle, double checked her saddlebags were secured, and unwound the binding she wore on her torso. She wore it when moving around camp and doing activities, but out on the road, with the slow moving caravan and the brutal jungle heat, the men and women of the caravan wore as little as possible. She caught Hulean staring at her; he had likely never seen a white woman before.
Without further ado, the caravan was moving. A couple of Rainrest guards at the nearby wooden gate called, “Best of luck,” or “Good travels!” It was slow going, as the workhorses heaved the wagons forward. Tagg kept at her side, talking to her about his thoughts why Kivrad wanted white makeup, or what they might use his favour for. Vaenuth had her own idea for the favour. She wanted information. Information about slavers from the east.
As she led her clan into the Numa’nakres jungles, she smiled to herself. Less humans to deal with. More world to explore.