One of the Wo-men / Part I Redemption

[Caira Ayryn]

The humble monk approached the back of the boulder, and in consequence, the men made room for the black sheep that easily parted through the fatigued soldiers. She could’ve only guessed how long they had been at it. Since dawn? No, before the sun rose. The pool beneath the men’s feet was far too deep for it to have been anything less than eight hours in the heinous weather they were experiencing. Thunderclouds stormed above as Caira stormed their mission, full force. Soon, the rain had dripped from her chin and streamed upon her neck to thoroughly soak her dark hair.

The potent scent of sweaty effort and dank humidity drifted to her nose as she placed a single palm on the wet slippery boulder and felt the chill from the coarse sediment. Her fingers extended and she gave a slight heave of force to the rock.

There was a pause in the audience before the weight shifted beneath the slushy mud that held the boulder on the highest point on the hill. After her touch, it moved with fluent ease and slid down the slope of the hill they had been aiming for. Her gaping witnesses staggered at the power of a Prime. “Looks like you loosened it for me.” Caira commented, but no words would save any man’s damaged pride. Her eyes had hardened from the silence, which still resounded among the hushed men, who watched her from this time on. “What, just going to stand there?” The Prime challenged, feeling more hurt by their remarks over-time than she would ever had let on, only to have a simple action like this, cease and stun them all.

The slosh of mud filled her soggy socks as she followed the boulder and pushed it the remaining rest of the way. Kobi stood by her side as she beckoned him to help her the rest of the distance as Trevor made sure to direct them on the right path. There was a mile more to go. Plenty of time for them all to bond. Caira rallied a breath, as the soldiers piled behind her.

“Now up this tree.” Kobi, their organizer, stated and Caira looked against the rain and up the tree’s needles, staring at their challenge’s immense height.

“Huh? But that will crush the tree’s branches and kill it.” The worldly monk mentioned with a curious expression and said that she wouldn’t do it if it would break any single branch.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” Trevor chided in disbelief.

Caira folded her arms and felt the weight of her drenched clothing under the armor. She heard the jeers of the men who had finally started to respect her. “That’s just like a woman. To go back on her word.” The comment felt like flames crawling under her cold skin.

The female let her eye twitch in aggravation at the constant stereotype. Really? At this point it’s plain unbecoming of them to say and completely predictable. Caira was stubborn but she wasn’t stupid. This was turning out to be one of those ‘make it or break it’ moments. It was a detrimental decision. This climax could ruin her hopes of winning their trust for the future, if she didn’t gain respect here, what support could she provide on the battle field? What could she provide for their platoon tomorrow? Yet today the same was applicable in a more obscure way. Sure, people cut down trees every day. But this one, was huge and had history beneath the many rings of its bark; it provided a helpful home to shelter animals. No, she was sure, she wouldn’t break a branch and her reluctance held stern her mental sanctity.

“Unless...” she trailed as they hung on her every word, “Unless we do it a certain way.” The ‘hard’ way.

The scent of pine touched her nose and sprigs of needles tickled her cheeks. The soaked rope they had noosed around the rock now dripped with greasy sweat and was heavy with the water that had only increased in their weak hands.

Drenched as they were, they were equally unwilling to let go of the task at hand. The men created a stable pulley against the branch of the tree using angled ropes, manpower, and potent willpower. Caira supervised the action from above, all the weight was on one rope and distributed among a few branches.

Slick with sweat, the men’s hands grappled with the weight of the rock and balanced on the sliding mud beneath them. Keen ears could hear the cracking crumble of the rope as it splintered down to the last thread. Thin as chicken wire, weaker than a hair, the last bristle of rope threatened to fall not just through the tree branches but upon the men below. Even time seemed to hang in the balance as bark continued to grate against the woven texture and any added moisture loosened the very last strand. Her eyes watched the dangling rope swish like a cat’s ball of yarn, and fell with the weight of gravity.