Anarchist Time Knights-Day 8: Knight’s Bind
[Image: A sunlit valley cradled by rolling hills, golden rays spilling over lush grass and scattered wildflowers under a sky of deepening blue. Tobal’s scarred face shines with quiet strength under a worn blue militia coat, medallion glowing gold in his steady grip. Fiona’s sky blue gown sways on her lean frame, chestnut hair loose and catching the sun, golden threads pulsing bold. Rafe’s wiry frame leans easy in a patched cloak of faded green and gray, grin warm. Becca’s red hair blazes under a cloak of deep brown and russet, eyes fierce with light. Valentine’s shaggy gray-brown fur ripples as he romps through the grass — vivid, warm, with the hum of life stirring the air]
Tobal stood in the valley’s heart, boots pressing into lush grass, the sun’s warmth soaking through the earth as golden rays spilled over rolling hills. Wildflowers — purple and yellow — dotted the green, their scent mingling with the breeze under a sky deepening to blue. His blue militia coat — torn but soft — hung light on his broad frame, his scarred face shining with quiet strength, short dark hair tousled by the wind. The medallion in his hand glowed a steady gold, its hum a warm thread against his calloused palm, kindling an intense peace where hope had taken root.
Fiona sat cross-legged near, her sky blue gown swaying on her lean frame, the hem brushing grass and petals kissed by dew. Her chestnut hair flowed loose, catching the sun’s gleam, golden threads pulsing boldly in her relaxed fingers — her breath came easy, laced with the sweetness of flowers and earth, her lithe form eased with a touch of calm, eyes half-closed in the valley’s glow. Rafe sprawled on his back, his wiry frame stretched in a patched cloak of faded green and gray, wool warm in the sunlight — his grin spread warm, a playful glint in his clear eyes as he tossed his knife blade-up, catching it with a chuckle. Becca knelt nearby, her cloak of deep brown and russet rippling, red hair blazing wild in the breeze — her fierce eyes burned with light, her sturdy curves firm and full of life, she breathed a low laugh of strength. Valentine romped through the grass ahead, his shaggy gray-brown fur rippling, coarse strands catching the sun — his bark echoed bright, a pulse of life as he rolled down a gentle slope.
The valley breathed — lush grass swayed, wildflowers nodded in the wind, the silence of retreat replaced by the stir of life, the ravine’s shadows a faint scar on the horizon. Tobal shifted, his chest rising as a bee’s buzz brushed his ears — soft, alive — blending with the breeze’s song. The air glowed warm — flower-scented, rich — sunlight weaving a bond. He turned — eyes sweeping the Knights — his voice a low rasp, warm with the day. “They’ve left us this.” The medallion glowed — gold light spilling boldly — his scarred hand steady, a calm resolve threading his pulse. A petal drifted near — a cricket chirped — his breath caught.
Rafe propped up on an elbow, cloak swaying in the breeze, his grin widening as his breath fogged faintly in the morning’s last cool. “Them? Gave us a playground?” He flicked a blade of grass — a soft rustle answered from the flowers — Valentine’s ears perked, his fur gleaming as he let out a joyful yip, tumbling over his own paws. Rafe’s laugh rang — clear, loose — his lean frame easing as the wind carried a bee’s hum.
Fiona opened her eyes, gown brushing the grass, threads weaving a bold arc of gold that danced in the sun. “They were stronger than us,” she said — voice low, clear — her gaze drifting to Rafe, her fingers soft, the warmth kissing her knuckles. Her chestnut hair caught the light, lifting free, and her eyes met Tobal’s — a shared living fire threading between them, her lean grace kindling a quiet strength. A flower swayed — petals bright — her lips quirked, breath steady with calm.
Becca stretched her arms, red hair blazing under her russet hood, her voice sharp but rich as the wind tugged her cloak. “Stronger? Then why did they retreat?” She plucked a wildflower — her fierce eyes flashed — glancing from Fiona to Tobal, strength flickering in her gaze, her shapely form rooted with a growing pride. A bird’s song trilled — close, clear — her breath steadied, slow and warm, the sun warming her cheeks.
Tobal leaned forward — coat brushing the lush grass — his free hand settling on Valentine’s shoulder, the dog’s coarse fur warm as he flopped beside him, panting happily. “Are you having fun?” he said — gruff, low — his scarred face tilting toward Becca, eyes dark with a fire that burned deep, his broad build radiating a quiet power. The medallion’s glow deepened — its hum threading his voice — his chest swelled, an intense peace he couldn’t quell. A breeze stirred the flowers — sunlight flared — Becca’s grin widened, her shoulders easing as the hum rose, weaving through the air.
Valentine sprang up — grass parted — a sharp bark split the valley as he chased a darting bee, fur rippling with glee. Tobal rose, medallion steady, his scarred face softening — something warm bloomed in his gut, bright as the sun, a low rumble of peace beneath it. “Watch this!” Rafe called — half a laugh — his knife spinning once before he caught it, wiry frame moving with a flicker of joy. A faint buzz curled up — close, alive — Fiona’s threads pulsed, gold threading boldly — her voice steady as stone. “Stay here.” Tobal’s gaze struck Rafe — soft, fierce — his growl a whisper. “Sense it.” He stepped toward the valley’s heart — boots sinking — the wind curling rich, thick with flowers and life.
The light deepened — gold bathed the valley, wildflowers swaying in the breeze, the earth’s pulse a living thread beneath their feet. Cal — a wiry Knight with tangled brown hair — lay back, arms behind his head, his breath a slow sigh, eyes tracing a butterfly where the sun touched a faded scar in the grass. Tobal’s hand brushed his arm — medallion blazing bold — his grip light, though his own pulse steadied, a cricket’s chirp spiking his ears, his broad chest warm with a flicker of ease. “Feel it,” he murmured — voice low, warm — flowers sharp in his throat. Cal’s eyes crinkled — his grin broke slow — a quiet strength catching as the butterfly danced near.
Fiona’s threads wove wider — gold flickering like a breath — her gaze slid to Becca, the sun’s warmth brushing her lean face. “Why’d they leave?” Becca asked — voice softer — her edge gone, lost in the light, her sturdy form trembling with a mix of awe and power. A petal floated down — close, free — Fiona’s lips curved, a faint smile — chestnut hair loose and sunlit. “To run — to live.” Rafe’s laugh rang — soft, warm — his knife still as he flicked a flower into the air, wiry frame moving with a steady spark. Tobal nodded — medallion pulsing — wind curling low, a faint hum rising distant, a whisper of what’s next. The Knights rested — scarred, bound — sunlight weaving over the valley.
