One-Way Trip (2)

"Well then, lad, welcome to Al Bahok. Home to, well, mediocre dune wasters." Asad's voice echoed throughout the searing winds. "A quaint little place, yeah? Tight-knit, the lot of them are."

"I thought I heard that irritating voice." An elderly man greeted the two from under the shade of brick housing. "And you brought a kid?"

"Aye." Asad nodded, with Lynch settling for silence. "Found him just by the shore, with planks of wood drifting nearby. You get the gist, right?"

"Poor lad." The man grimly sighed. He stood up, cane in one hand supporting his weight. "As you've heard from Asad here, this little village is called Al Bahok. We normally don't accept new faces—more mouths to feed—but we can make exceptions. Especially for a child such as yourself."

Lynch, grudgingly accepting his current situation, gripped Asad's shoulders tightly, eliciting a muffled grumble from the well-built man.

"Lad, you're killing my shoulders." Lynch froze for a moment before retracting his hands from the shoulders of his mount.

"Shy one, eh?" The elder grinned, showing to the world the various holes and missing teeth hidden within his lips. "Asad, bring him to Hissa's house. Last I heard, she was wanting a child to dote on."

"Sure thing." Asad responded with a slight nod before rolling his shoulders, with Lynch still on his back. "Come on, lad, not too far now. You'll fit just right in."

Lynch remained silent the entire walk to the house where this woman was to care for him. On the way, he noticed some of the villagers peering at him, some intrigued, some concerned.

There were also children present. The majority of them were having a good time, frolicking around with each other and smiling broadly. They took notice of Lynch as well, and inquiring eyes met suspicious ones.

It wasn't long before they finally arrived at Hissa's house. It wasn't anything to write home about, but for Lynch, who was all but a stranger to their culture, it was mind-boggling.

"Asad?" A voice brought Lynch out of his reverie, his eyes locking onto the woman who would most likely be his new caretaker. "Is that a child with you?"

"Aye, Hissa." Asad gently lowered Lynch to the ground. Lynch had trouble standing, but with a stable crutch known as Asad, he was able to avoid falling flat on his face like earlier. "Kareem told me to bring the lad to you, something along the lines of you having some extra space."

Hissa approached Lynch, eyes full of curiosity and restrained hope. Kneeling down to come head-to-head with Lynch, she gave Lynch a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair, something that caused the young boy to frown.

"Ease off the lad, Hissa." Asad chuckled, causing a blush to form around Hissa's chocolate-colored cheeks. "He's not used to physical contact with strangers. Had to give him a stern speech just for him to take my hand."

Lynch glared at the man. He knows for sure that what he said wasn't a speech. It wasn't even two sentences long!

But as much as Lynch felt the need to retort, he clammed his mouth shut, not wanting for more attention to be brought to him. He had enough on his mind as it is now, such as why he was in a child's body and why were memories not of his own existing within the same brain?

Or was it the reverse, and he was Jorge and Lynch the interloper? His current body suggests it is the correct one based on current circumstances. But then again, the dominant psyche… Memories…? Were of that of Lynch…

"Lad, you okay there?" Lynch was brought out of his mind-dive by a rough poke, courtesy of Asad. "You can take a rest if you want."

"Yes, I'll be happy to lend you an extra bed." Hissa supplied from in front of him, eyes now directing worry at him.

"… Okay…" Lynch's whisper-like voice made the two of them nod, with Hissa scooping the boy into her arms.

"Asad, tell the Elder I'll be looking after the child." Hissa turned around and made her way inside the house, but not before addressing something to Asad. "Also, Shaqeeq is being an idiot again."

"Not again." Asad's voice felt like he was so done with the world. At least, that's how it felt to Lynch. "I'll beat some sense into him. Damn idiot thinking with his muscles instead of brain."

As the scenery changed from hot sand to dim bricks, Hissa placed Lynch on an available bed made of pelts, straw, and rags. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it was better than nothing.

Hissa then made her way to the pot perched above an unlit stack of firewood.

"I'll prepare a bowl of porridge for you, dear." Hissa said with a gentle smile. "In the meantime, you can rest your eyes."

Lynch made the decision to do precisely that. He needed to adapt, as much as he feared his current circumstances. Dare to venture into the unknown, and so on. On the positive side, if everything was a dream, he may simply forget about it. If not, what is the point of doing nothing?

Closing his eyes, Lynch desperately clawed at the memories he buried. Those of Jorge, his previous… New body…

'This is gonna be a fucking nightmare.'

[][][]

A castle, surrounded by green, lush fields.

A forest, trees dotting the landscape as far as the eye can see.

A village, peasants walking around with relaxed smiles and grins.

A city, full of races, both human and not.

A fortress, guards and knights milling about.

A sound, loud and imposing. Feet scurrying, yelling and screaming overtake tranquility.

Embers… Fire… An inferno…

Steel clashing against steel. Ground stained scarlet…

A boat, small, enough to fit a few.

Black clouds above, waves crashing against wood.

Terrified mewls, struggling yelps.

"Jorge! Don't let go!"

"Big Brother!"

Cold… So cold…

[][][]

"Ahh!" Lynch awoke with a fury, his chest rapidly heaving up and down.

"Are you alright!?" Beside him, Hissa was gently grasping his hand, her tone heavily tinted with worry. "Do you need anything!?"

Lynch stared at the woman, his brain short-circuiting at the vertigo he had just experienced.

"… Food." Lynch's stomach rumbled at the same time, leading Hissa to let go of his hand.

"It's okay, dear, the porridge is nearly done." Hissa then continued to stoke the fire, more embers dropping to the rough ground...

Just like in his nightmare… His memories…

'What the fuck is happening to me…?'