Chapter 38 - On the Road
The warehouse had already come alive in the morning.
The door stood half open, letting slanted light spill inside, cutting through dust that drifted slowly in the air.
Zio stood among stacks of crates. His hands pulled tight the cloth wrapping, tying it with the same simple knot every time. His movements were calm and efficient, never rushed.
Thomas stood a few steps away, holding a short list in his hand. He read it quickly, then slipped it into his pocket.
He turned toward Zio.
“Let’s take lunch first, Zio.”
“Alright,” Zio replied.
They sat on a bench in the corner near the wall, facing the food set out on the table in front of them.
They ate slowly.
“There’s another order,” Thomas said, his spoon still in his hand.
Zio nodded while chewing his bread slowly.
“But it’s pretty far, out west of the city,” Thomas continued.
“You going alone, or waiting for another carrier?”
“How many crates?” Zio asked quietly.
“About ten crates. Gauze, bandages, and other medical supplies,” Thomas answered.
Zio lifted his gaze briefly.
“I’ll go alone. I’ll use a cart.”
“Alright then. I’ll try to get you a bonus from Uncle,” Thomas said.
They continued eating until their meals were finished.
The light through the warehouse door shifted, stretching longer and turning a harsher gold across the floor. The midday heat began to settle into a heavy stillness.
Not long after, Zio lifted the last crate onto the cart.
“Alright, nice. All done,” Thomas said, standing beside him.
“Be careful. Stick to the main road, don’t take the small alleys.”
Zio nodded, then pulled the cart out of the warehouse.
Thomas returned to his seat at the cashier’s desk.
Zio paused briefly as he reached the western gate.
A guard approached.
“I haven’t seen you around before. New?” he asked.
Zio nodded.
The guard’s gaze dropped to the cart. He checked the load at a glance, the cloth cover, the way the crates were stacked.
“Medical supplies for the western medical post?”
“Yes,” Zio replied.
“Stay on the main road,” the guard said. “Don’t cut through the side paths. The ground off the trail is still wet. Your wheels could get stuck.”
Zio nodded again.
“Alright. You may pass.”
Zio pulled the cart through the gate.
His pace remained steady despite the weight behind him. No sudden pulls. No unnecessary pauses.
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Once the western gate of Ravenhold fell behind him, the city’s noise faded almost completely. No more wagon wheels or merchants’ calls. Only the rustle of leaves and the faint brushing of distant undergrowth remained.
The western route was not an open plain. Trees grew thick along both sides of the road, casting thin shadows that stretched across the dirt.
Old wheel tracks were still visible. Hardened horse prints marked certain sections of the path. Along the edges, grass leaned inward, rarely trampled.
Zio pulled the cart without haste.
His eyes moved with old habit, scanning the cracked stones along the roadside, the repaired wooden markers, and the patches of ground that held too much moisture.
The wind flowed straight down the road. It carried no kitchen smells, no smoke, no trace of the city’s noise. Only the scent of damp earth and dried leaves.
Zio adjusted his stride slightly, then returned to the same rhythm.
He did not stop.
He did not quicken his pace either.
The road felt quieter than usual.
The Guild’s medical post stood in a small open area, surrounded by a low wooden fence. The building was simple, two stories tall, stone on the lower level and wood above.
Three horses were tied in the yard. Two staff members pushed an empty stretcher into the building. Another carried a bucket of water and clean cloth.
Zio stopped his cart.
A medical staff member noticed him approaching.
The gate was opened. “Come in,” the staff member said.
Zio pushed the cart through.
“Please bring the crates into that room,” the staff member added, pointing to a small storage room on the lower floor.
Zio lifted the crates one by one from the cart and carried them inside the storage room.
When he finished, a woman stepped in and checked the contents quickly, matching the list against the small writing on bottles and cloth bundles.
“All accounted for,” she said shortly.
“Thank you.”
Zio nodded.
Inside, two patients lay still on their beds. Their bandages were clean, but their faces were tight with strain. One clenched his teeth in silence. The other stared at the ceiling with empty eyes.
“Another case from the western mine,” one staff member whispered to another as they walked past.
“Why hasn’t the Guild investigation team moved yet?” the other replied quietly.
“I heard most of them are still up north.”
The conversation stopped when they noticed Zio still standing beside his cart.
“Would you like some water?” one of the staff asked.
“Thank you,” Zio replied softly.
He sat on a small bench in the yard.
A light wind passed through the yard, shifting dry leaves near the fence.
Zio was still sitting.
His gaze moved along the wooden fence, the tree trunks beyond it, and the thin shadows stretched across the ground. One of the leaves near the fence shifted, then settled again, even though the air barely moved.
The building door creaked open.
Several people came out carrying stretchers. The two patients who had been lying inside were now secured tightly. Their faces were pale and rigid. One of their companions led a horse closer.
The stretchers were lifted.
Placed onto the litter.
The straps were tightened.
The horse began to move.
The wheels creaked softly as the litter left the yard, heading back toward the city. No one looked back.
Zio watched until they passed beyond the fence.
A medical staff member stood near the doorway.
“What happened to them?” Zio asked briefly.
“More new victims,” the staff member replied. Short. No further explanation.
Zio nodded.
He stood up. His hand reached for the cart handle. His gaze drifted west, toward the route he had taken earlier.
Only for a moment.
Then he turned the cart toward the fence.
The wheels crossed the wooden threshold. Zio left the medical post yard and started walking away.
The medical staff member went back inside.
Within the building, a colleague spoke quietly. The words were indistinct, drowned by footsteps and the rustle of cloth.
The wind brushed through the yard again.
It felt colder this time, enough to linger against the skin before passing.
The last staff member to enter paused briefly. A hand rose to rub the back of his neck. A reflexive motion.
He drew a slow breath.
“The air’s gotten a bit colder,” he murmured.
No one responded.
He stepped inside. The door closed.
The yard fell silent again.
Leaves stirred in the branches.
The sound lingered a little longer than it should have.
The cart wheels rolled steadily over the dirt road.
Zio was already far from the medical post. Trees grew closer together here, their trunks thick, their surfaces scarred from years of unchecked growth.
He did not look back. His attention stayed on the road and the rhythm of his steps.
The wind along the path stopped.
Leaves that had been shifting a moment earlier froze in place. The faint scraping sound disappeared all at once.
Zio kept walking at the same pace.
His fingers tightened around the cart handle, pressure building without any change in his stride.
From behind him, something sounded faintly.
It wasn’t the wind.
It wasn’t the wheels.
Short. Sharp. Cut off.
Zio stopped.
He stood without moving. A few seconds passed. No follow-up sound came.
His gaze settled on the road ahead. The route leading back toward the city.
Then he turned his head.
From the direction of the forest came the sound of a branch snapping. Heavy. Followed by a low vibration that traveled through the ground, faint but unmistakably not wind or a small animal.
Zio released his grip on the cart.
A scream tore through the forest.
