A Mint-Flavored Rebellion [Part 4]

A Mint-Flavored Rebellion [Part 4]

She stepped into the room and locked the door, looking at the spread she had laid out. A very flat leather shirt, a pad to strap around her belly to make her look flat, a knife, and some loose-fitting cotton pants.
She sighed and decided to start with the hair; get the hard part over with. She picked up the blade, examining it. It was covered in dried-on fruit juice and pulp, but it’d have to do. It was her only knife. She slowly raised it to her hair, pulling it back in a ponytail with her free hand. She then raised the knife, and, with one swift and practiced movement, swung it down through the bundle of hair. What was left fell down across the top of her neck, only coming to about the middle. She did her best to make it look boyish while she looked in the mirror, but it just seemed to look worse and worse the more she cut, so she set the blade down and began to change into her new clothes.
After a while, she was satisfied with the boyishness of her new look, but she thought her face looked too feminine. She grabbed a small leather bag off of her makeshift dresser (a cardboard box taped to the floor) and untied it. Inside was some dirt, which she smudged anywhere that she thought looked too clean.
After about an hour, she admired herself in the mirror, and felt satisfied with the overall effect. As long as no one felt the need to examine her up close, she’d be fine.
She turned around and unlocked the door, waltzing out in the direction of the dining hall. She would have to see what Jen thought.
She tried to walk with a more manly slump, but all she could manage was a clumsy stumbling sort of motion. Maybe Minze was just klutzy. Or maybe he was refined and had a more graceful gait. No, neither one would serve her purpose. She would have to recall on her days as a warrior.
She stopped in the middle of the hall, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She imagined the rough leather hilt of the sword resting in-between her hands, and she instantly assumed a tougher, battle-ready pose. She then dropped her hands and tried to walk with the power and authority of a warrior. It worked. She strolled, head held high, down the hall with a manly authority that she never could have dreamed she had in her.
Her hips didn’t sway, but her legs instead passed each other and did the job of getting her from point to point. As she stepped into the dining room, she at down in the chair with rigid movements like she had always noticed men did, and didn’t bother pulling herself in closer to the table.
“Well, who do we have here?” A friendly, high-pitched voice rang out from behind her, and she turned, fighting to keep herself from slipping back into girlishness.
“The name’s Minze, and I’m here for dinner.” She responded as gruffly as she could. It took all of her strength to keep from bursting into laughter right there.
A plump, brown-haired woman with amused blue eyes waltzed gracefully up to the table with a plate in hand, setting it down in front of Mint.
“Well, here it is, my little friend. You better eat up; it’s the best meal you’ll get for a while, considering our destination.” She laughed hardily, wiping her hands off on a thoroughly stained apron.
Mint nodded wordlessly and began to scarf down the plate of turkey and mashed potatoes. Jen’s cooking was good, and she wanted to get as much as she could before they set sail.
Jen just laughed and shook her head, walking back to the kitchen to get more. She brought out a second plate just as Mint was finishing her first. Mint took a deep breath this time, appreciating the aroma. She savored every bite of tender, flavorful, gravy-and-herb-covered turkey and creamy, buttery mashed potatoes.
Jen continued to laugh, lightly tapping Mint of the head with her spoon as she handed to plate back. “No more food for you, girl. You have some hard work ahead of you, but you certainly can’t get used to pigging out like this.”
Mint rolled her eyes. She knew Jen’s two-plate policy, but she wished her friend would make an exception just this once. She was, after all, going out on a ridiculously dangerous journey. And she wouldn’t be having a decent meal for a while.
Distaste flashed across her face as she remembered the cold, lumpy, dirt-flavored gruel she had been served as a slave. The months of eating Jen’s amazing dishes would not help one bit. And also, Mint realized with another stab of pain, these were sure to be five times worse under the cruel rule of the new, more harsh dictator.
The demon had a new name; Al’gait. It was old Elvish for merciless. Much more suiting then the nomadic name she had once had, which meant rational. She had lost her rationality long ago, though she had once been full of it. Mint knew better than anyone that a person’s name meant nothing if they did not live up to it. However, in this case, the name meant everything, especially because she refused to call a demon such an honorable name as Alyssa.
“Ah, Minze. You finally arrived, from the looks of it.” A distinctly foreign accent rang out from behind her, and she immediately turned as instinct, though she already knew who it was.
And, sure enough, the tan skin and blue eyes of Arthur Pummel were standing right back at her. He had slightly long blond hair, and wore clothes similar to Mint’s.
“Shut your blowhole, you’re just wasting precious oxygen.” Mint added simply, recognizing his usual, mocking voice and the challenge that came with it.
“Well, if you don’t learn to control that little tongue of yours, you may not be wasting it, either, for much longer.”
Before Mint could respond, Jen’s spoon whacked Arthur on the back of the head, and her voice rang out before he could scream accusations. “Sit your bum down or no supper tonight. You hear me, boy?”
He quickly sat down, though grumbling. Jen only called people “boy” and “girl” when she was angry, and provoking her was like provoking an angry grizzly bear. She had actually thrown a man overboard once, to everyone’s amused astonishment.
Jen placed a plate identical to Mint’s down in front of him before returning wordlessly to the kitchen. After a few minutes of silence, the captain hobbled in slowly. She was a trader, unmarried, and had a bad leg injury that forced her to use a crutch, against her wishes.
“Mint, the row boat’s all ready. You don’t have to leave right now, but you need to leave as soon as you can. It’s best if they don’t see you getting off of our ship.” Mint didn’t protest; she was lucky enough that she had found a ship at all willing to aid her in her mission. She knew Arthur, who would be getting off at the next country, would have to hide during the unloading, and Mint wasn’t much for sneaking around, it made her feel like a rouge… a traitor.
She nodded and expressed her thanks to the captain, offering what little money she had, though the captain denied politely and said she’d need it in the months to come. Mint nodded, knowing she was right, and stepped into the kitchen to thank Jen. She was given a small pouch of dried meat, and another of chocolate, because Jen said that she didn’t want the poor girl to have to work on the small amount of energy that gruel provided.
Then, Mint turned around, and, with a sigh, walked onwards towards the creaky rowboat. But, more importantly than that, towards the future of her people.