On the village streets, Virginia immediately began barking orders like a commander ordering her troops. Her instructions were urgent without being frightening. After all, unless she was absolutely certain of the danger the village faced, she wasn't willing to risk scaring the villagers further.
"Get inside your homes!" she told them. "Be sure your families are accounted for!"
"Ms. Pear, what can I do?" Huxley asked. He walked up beside her, the barrel of his rifle cocked assuredly atop his shoulder.
"Can you be stealthy, Mr. Huxley?"
"Indeed I can--as stealthy as a stalking cat."
She sighed nervously. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I realize you had our best interests at heart, and I had no right to act the way I did. It's easy for one to become frustrated when everything one has worked for stands on the edge of destruction."
"Ms. Pear, as much as I love indulging in a good, well-intentioned apology, particularly one aimed in my direction, we really must take action."
"Of course," she said, drawing one hand up to her throbbing temple and ever-so-slightly massaging the tender area. "If you're up to it, I need a few men to patrol down the river. If there is indeed someone with ill intentions in the area, there will still be a boat. We must know this for certain or else risk living in fear."
"I'm up to it, madam. I'll take Akan with me, and we'll return before you know it."
He turned away, facing his camp, where Akan was no doubt patiently awaiting his arrival, the rifle now poised carefully in both his hands.
"Do be careful, Mr. Huxley," Virginia said sincerely as he walked away. "God be with you."
"There's a first time for everything, Ms. Pear."
He walked quickly toward the camp, intercepted at the outskirts by Westmoreland, appearing like a ghost from the shadows. The look on his face was, at first, the look of a man with a simple question on his mind, yet it grew more and more complex as he wondered why Huxley was holding a rifle.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, choosing to the ignore the gun altogether.
"Yes?"
"I was wondering, sir, if I could start telling the men to get ready for the trip. It didn't feel appropriate, telling them when you weren't around and such."
"There's been a slight change of plans, Westmoreland. We aren't going anywhere. Round the men up with torches and our rifles. Take them into the village, find Ms. Pear, and do whatever she tells you. Do you understand?"
"Of course, sir," replied the porter, nodding fervently with a strained look across his brow. He felt like questioning Huxley's orders, but ultimately felt such subordination to be unseemly. He did as instructed and began gathering the men, starting with the other porters, who had become so indolent and sedentary over the past few days that anything requiring the slightest bit of effort immediately caused an endless stream of mumbled whines and complaints.
Huxley, meanwhile, stepped into the tent he shared with his partner, where Akan now stood waiting examining the pistol Huxley had kept hidden. Immediately, his large, dark eyes fell upon the rifle in his friend's hands, and from there, his eyes wandered to meet Huxley's.
"Bring that with you, won't you?" said Huxley.
Akan looked about, making certain that no one else was about or within range to hear his voice.
"Where are we going?"
"For a little walk," said Huxley, disappearing back outside and leaving the flap of the tent to settle back in its hanged position, wavering subtly in the night breeze.
"Get inside your homes!" she told them. "Be sure your families are accounted for!"
"Ms. Pear, what can I do?" Huxley asked. He walked up beside her, the barrel of his rifle cocked assuredly atop his shoulder.
"Can you be stealthy, Mr. Huxley?"
"Indeed I can--as stealthy as a stalking cat."
She sighed nervously. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I realize you had our best interests at heart, and I had no right to act the way I did. It's easy for one to become frustrated when everything one has worked for stands on the edge of destruction."
"Ms. Pear, as much as I love indulging in a good, well-intentioned apology, particularly one aimed in my direction, we really must take action."
"Of course," she said, drawing one hand up to her throbbing temple and ever-so-slightly massaging the tender area. "If you're up to it, I need a few men to patrol down the river. If there is indeed someone with ill intentions in the area, there will still be a boat. We must know this for certain or else risk living in fear."
"I'm up to it, madam. I'll take Akan with me, and we'll return before you know it."
He turned away, facing his camp, where Akan was no doubt patiently awaiting his arrival, the rifle now poised carefully in both his hands.
"Do be careful, Mr. Huxley," Virginia said sincerely as he walked away. "God be with you."
"There's a first time for everything, Ms. Pear."
He walked quickly toward the camp, intercepted at the outskirts by Westmoreland, appearing like a ghost from the shadows. The look on his face was, at first, the look of a man with a simple question on his mind, yet it grew more and more complex as he wondered why Huxley was holding a rifle.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, choosing to the ignore the gun altogether.
"Yes?"
"I was wondering, sir, if I could start telling the men to get ready for the trip. It didn't feel appropriate, telling them when you weren't around and such."
"There's been a slight change of plans, Westmoreland. We aren't going anywhere. Round the men up with torches and our rifles. Take them into the village, find Ms. Pear, and do whatever she tells you. Do you understand?"
"Of course, sir," replied the porter, nodding fervently with a strained look across his brow. He felt like questioning Huxley's orders, but ultimately felt such subordination to be unseemly. He did as instructed and began gathering the men, starting with the other porters, who had become so indolent and sedentary over the past few days that anything requiring the slightest bit of effort immediately caused an endless stream of mumbled whines and complaints.
Huxley, meanwhile, stepped into the tent he shared with his partner, where Akan now stood waiting examining the pistol Huxley had kept hidden. Immediately, his large, dark eyes fell upon the rifle in his friend's hands, and from there, his eyes wandered to meet Huxley's.
"Bring that with you, won't you?" said Huxley.
Akan looked about, making certain that no one else was about or within range to hear his voice.
"Where are we going?"
"For a little walk," said Huxley, disappearing back outside and leaving the flap of the tent to settle back in its hanged position, wavering subtly in the night breeze.
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