Luke: Frustration

"Orders understood, sir,” I couldn’t help grimacing, resolute in my frustration over Sebastian and his commands. How Father and I had to stay behind I didn’t understand. Wouldn’t we be better for the job, willing to risk our own lives for those of our loved ones? And why didn’t Father speak up, only nodding complacently at our commander. These thoughts and more itched to escape my mouth but I bit my tongue.

Sebastian dismounted,  as well as the two others. Lewis gave me a sympathetic glance before leaving, though I barely acknowledged it, wrapped up in my own feelings at the time. They disappeared around the bend, and I turned my eyes to the towers above, shielding my eyes from the sun.

I turned my boiling head onto other matters, knowing that my frustration would solve nothing and was worth nothing at a time like this. I thought of seeing Katrina again, guided triumphantly by the three men into our waiting arms. Only if it was that simple.

Maybe they weren’t even here. Then what?

Father reined his horse, pulling the mare next to my own, shifting in his saddle to gaze at the frightening garrison ahead. Anxiety was clear in his face. So many things could go wrong in there...

By now many of the soldier-men that Sebastian had gathered for this venture began to dismount, stretching sore legs and aching backs, breaking to eat. One looked to us and said, “It’s going to be a while, y’know.”

I barely heard him, my ears, my eyes alert for any sign, good or bad. A pair of the men had taken out their swords and began to spar in play, but someone shushed them down. We were still in an area of danger, on a mission.

Time seemed like a sluggish snail in comparison to the rapid beating of my heart and the nervous race of my thoughts. Everything was too silent - a bird twittling away in the tree above our heads, the swishing of horse tails, buzzing of a stray fly as it  made circles around my head. Worries spread like a black disease in my head in the endless quiet; wondering, wondering, waiting, waiting....

“How did this happen?” Father murmured beside me, silent up until that point. When I looked to him, he did not meet my eye, gaze transfixed toward the ground ahead. “What was she thinking? How was she allowed to leave?”

From the sound of his voice it was clear he had asked the questions over and over again, just as I had, unable to comprehend it all. Though unsurprised by the color of fury in his words, I was surprised by the slight desperation in his tone. I don’t know why, but I had always expected him to have the answers, to hold strong, to know. Of course, no one really knew what was going on, and no one would never know everything.

Before I could reply, he shook his head, “It doesn’t matter know. We’re here, and...,” He sighed, moving the reins through his fingers. “Nothing can be undone.”

I nodded firmly. Father turned in his saddle and clasped me by the arm, smiling tightly, “Now we just have to get her safe again.”

“Not us,” I gestured toward the garrison, frustrated all over again. “Them.”

He laughed grimly, clearly feeling the same as I. Yet he controlled it, swallowed the sour taste on his tongue, and attempted to calm and reassure me, but it sounded like he was also reassuring himself as well, “They are good, capable men, better suited to the situation. If anyone can get Katrina out and safe, it’s most likely them. If she is in there, they have the best chance of freeing her. And that’s all that matters.”

The End

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