Ch. 1
His legs were cramped. But in the dark and quiet, with the cacophony of bugs and birds outside the wagon keeping him from utilizing these moments of stillness for sleep, he’d settle for staying in a tight ball, his cheek pressed to one knee and his fingers laced in front of his feet, his eyes closed and mind wandering endlessly, as close to resting as he could really get under these circumstances. There wasn’t room to lay down in his cage, and it was really too squat and square to extend his legs fully or even raise his back straight. If he stayed tight in a ball like this, everything faded into a kind of numbness anyway, especially when his mind was busy. It wasn’t even busy with an escape plan, or knowledge or anything particularly useful like that - just daydreams and good things... That was probably why someone like him ended up somewhere like here, right? Boxed up in a cage in a wagon, waiting for the raiders to come back from cave-diving. He hoped they’d camp for the night - even if they decided to keep him in the cage, at least it’d give his stomach a reprieve from the bumpy roads. He couldn’t stay in a ball on the roads, or he’d just roll around his cage painfully, and of course he was already nauseous enough sitting up.
Maybe that was what he should be thinking about now - a plan. For the road trip. Should he lay on his side? Sort of in a ball, but more stable? Or he could prop his back up against the branches and just try to stabilize himself that way...? It made his head bump a lot; he wondered if he promised not to run away, would they let him lay flat next to the crates --
Oh, there they were. He could hear movement outside, and a moment later there was a form climbing up and inside through the back. Well, he’d just keep quiet for now, but speak up about it if an opportunity presented itself. He was still nervous about angering his captors - they’d seemed pretty ornery and aggressive the past few days.
It sounded like they were looking for something. Maybe it was just one of them? Coming back for supplies? Had to be it. One blue eye peeked open, long lashes sticking a bit blearily and a fist lifting to rub a bit of the exhaustion from his face. His was a spot back in the far corner, next to some crates that smelled spicy and a barrel of gun powder he didn’t dare question. A couple bags of miscellaneous stolen goods were atop his cage and occasionally they fell open and threatened to spill down onto his head - jewelry mostly, and some silver cutlery, all of which would probably be quiet painful should they fall just the right way. Gods help him if he woke up covered in the contents of one of those bags and were accused of trying to steal.
The shape moved inward seemingly stopping at each crate on their way through, rifling hurriedly through the contents of whatever wasn’t sealed and knocking things over here and there - enough to the point that Setli leaned a bit to try and peer around the crates and considered offering help. If he’d seen where they’d left whatever they were looking for he’d happily --
He startled, lips pressing tightly together and shoulders giving a slight raise. That wasn’t one of the raiders. That was a strange boy dressed in dark wraps. Raiding? Raiding. Raiding the raiders’ wagon.
He continued to stare in muted panic, immediately confused at how he should be reacting to the situation. Should he... shout?? Call out for the raiders? He didn’t know any of their names. And they’d technically stolen most of these things in the first place - they’d stolen him, even! So he shouldn’t necessarily help them -- But then what should he do?? Ask for help? What if this new thief was more ornery than the raiders?? As the other moved from crate to crate, not noticing him in his little cage, Setli noted that they did seem younger than the men who owned this wagon - a young man like he, probably capable of owning his own wagon or perhaps a homestead if he could get the money, but only just so - they were lanky, and very tall, compared to him of course most were tall, but Setli felt this gentleman probably towered over most friends of their age - though he noticed now, they didn’t stand quite so high as the raiders. Their face was pretty, but not like Setli’s in the way that his captors still were not so sure whether they had stolen a boy or a girl - it was firm, with a strong jaw, heavy black brows that were lowered over deep, dark eyes sternly focused downward as they pulled a pelt free from one crate and turned it over in their rough, dirt-smudged fingers. Their hair was pulled back from their face with a strip of dark cloth, colored like raven’s wings and just long enough to hang down the back of their neck - though it didn’t seem like it had been brushed in quite some time and for Setli the thought of how painful his tangles must be was enough to make him shift with sympathetic discomfort. His own was a bit shorter and of course his golden strands were very fluffy and loose on their own, a mercy to his delicate scalp, but already he was missing the soft horsehair brush they would have used on him if he’d stayed at the tailor’s --
The thief turned and reached down toward the bags slung over the top of the cage, pausing sharply as their eyes met an unexpected pair of glittery blue.
“....”
“....” Should Setli speak? It seemed rude, and a bad moment for it -- but staring seemed equally rude, unless maybe the other had mistaken him for a doll or --
He blinked as the thief turned his attention back to the bags and began rifling through them, the other pulling out a couple handfuls of jewelry, depositing them into the folds of their shirt, and then dropping the bags right back on top of Setli’s cage as they moved on with their raid.
“... ... ...” Setli scooted forward a bit, now putting his hands around the wooden bars and leaning further to watch the other’s quick work - He was watching already anyway, and if the other wasn’t killing him for it then he couldn’t really begrudge Setli for being curious and very confused, right? Setli wouldn’t scream, even though it was, honestly? A little mean? To leave him behind in the little box, but it wasn’t like he was this stranger’s responsibility. No, he wouldn’t cry, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t the other’s fault Setli got stolen by raiders. It wasn’t the other’s job to get him out of there, and besides, maybe his life in servitude to the raiders would be just as fine as a life in servitude to the tailor would have been.
The thief cast their gaze over the last remaining crates after emptying a small chest, satisfied enough with their haul already regardless of what might yet be discovered - she’d expected more to find supplies suited to the typical adventurer, but the eclectic assortment of cargo and the sheer number of treasures scattered throughout told her the owners of this particular wagon weren’t making an honest living. No reason to feel badly, then, taking more to sell rather than to eat - she had to get food one way or another if she was going to finish this journey, and fewer stops along the way meant fewer distractions. That was what she needed. No distractions. Focus. The ability to move quickly and quietly. Nothing holding her back, nothing slowing her down. That was how she’d gotten this far. That was how she’d get to the Mouth. One body, one soul, one trade, simple and clean. She’d be there in a week riding the strength of her determination and she was not about to get even the slightest bit distracted --
Setli’s head lifted off his knees as the thief climbed back into the wagon and marched back to his cage, dropping down in front of him and withdrawing a blade from his sleeve. “Ohm? I won’t tel-- Oh” Nope, not threatening him, it seemed, as the other began to cut the cords binding the branches of his cage together. “-- Oh, um, th... ank... you? Sir? Uh, um, my name’s - no, you’re right, I should be quiet.” That was what the eye-roll meant, right? “Um, they’ve been gone quite a while, but please hurry - I just wanted to be safe and let you know, I’ll be quiet now!” He sat back and placed his palms on his knees, watching the other working with a stretch of his lips into a wide line of disbelief. Honestly, the things people said about rogues, and look how kind this one was being to him!
It didn’t take the young man long at all to get through the cords, at least enough that a firm pull outward had the whole side of it loosening so that Setli could unfurl and then begin climbing out of it. His new friend didn’t wait to see his escape though, instead turning and quickly disappearing out the back of the wagon.
“?” Well...! He took the hint and moved faster, stretching his legs out painfully and twisting to free himself from the sticks. A moment later he was stumbling over the mess left by the thief on his way to the back of the wagon, hopping down to the grass with a swing of his head to examine his surroundings with a lift of his brows. Not a road he knew, but he had to guess they were still in Grovenhorde. He looked up the road and spotted his savior walking alongside it - So, since they looked like they knew where they were going, and hadn’t said not to - Setli hurried to catch up to them.
