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fandomweekly2026-03-06 02:36 pm
badly_knitted) wrote in fandomweekly2026-03-06 02:36 pm
Entry tags:
[#291] Like Coming Home (The Fantastic Journey)
Theme Prompt: #291 – Safe Harbor
Title: Like Coming Home
Fandom: The Fantastic Journey
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Battered and weary, the travellers find unexpected refuge in the midst of a severe storm.
“We can’t go on like this,” Willaway said, sinking wearily onto a convenient boulder and rubbing at his ankle. He’d twisted it running from danger a few days earlier, and it was still bothering him. “We’re the walking wounded; we need somewhere to rest up and heal.”
“I know.” Varian winced as he settled his tall frame on a nearby rock, careful fingers exploring where some kind of projectile had grazed him as they’d narrowly escaped captivity in the previous zone, coming away stained with blood.
“Let me take a look at that.” Fred dug his medical bag out of the big holdall.
“It’s fine, just a graze.”
“Yeah, well, still needs cleanin’.”
Too tired to argue, Varian let the young doctor clean and dress the shallow wound. He looked around at his travelling companions. “Is anyone else injured?”
“A few bruises, but I’m okay,” Scott said, slumped on the ground and leaning against a rock. “Just tired.”
“Liana?”
“I’m alright.”
“What did those people want with us?”
“I don’t know, Scott.” Varian examined the tear in his shirt and sighed; he’d have to see if he could repair it, once they found a safer place to stop. After four months of almost continuous travelling, what clothing they had was beginning to show distinct signs of wear.
“Nothing good, I shouldn’t imagine,” Willaway said in an ominous tone. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been shooting at us.”
“Yeah,” Fred agreed. “All we have to do is show up somewhere and…” He shrugged. “Suddenly it’s like we’re public enemy number one.”
“We didn’t even DO anything!” Scott pulled one shoe off and shook a small stone out of it before putting it back on again.
“We should keep going, if we can. We’re too close to the gateway.” Varian slung the strap of his bag around him, over the opposite shoulder this time, so that it wouldn’t aggravate his injury. While it was relatively minor, it wouldn’t heal if it was constantly being reopened.
“Mm.” Willaway got wearily to his feet and tested his ankle. “How long has it been since we were last welcomed anywhere?”
“Too long,” was Fred’s opinion. “Whatever happened to hospitality?”
“Seems to be a foreign concept in these parts.” Willaway picked up his backpack. “Well, no point just standing around here waiting for our pursuers to catch up with us.”
“That isn’t likely, is it?” Liana looked worried.
“I hope not.” Fred shoved his medical bag back into his holdall. “A lot of zones don’t seem to welcome outsiders on their territory.”
The travellers set off again, most of them limping for one reason or another, weary and footsore, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, and barely speaking. They’d been walking for a good three hours when Varian, scanning the terrain ahead, noticed something.
“Looks like there’s a storm heading our way.”
“Oh, great. That’s all we need.” Fred scowled at the black clouds piling up on the horizon. A flock of birds, soaring on the freshening wind, drew steadily closer with raucous cries as they tried to keep ahead of the storm front.
“Are those seagulls?” Scott asked excitedly. “Maybe that means we’re getting close to the coast!”
“They look like gulls to me, but don’t get your hopes up, Scottie.”
“Fred’s right, Scott. Gulls can travel hundreds of miles inland when there’s bad weather at sea. Or they could be searching for food.” Varian readjusted the strap of his bag. “It looks like farmland down there.” He pointed ahead and to the left, down a long slope. “We should head that way; perhaps we might find a barn, somewhere we can shelter for a while.”
They picked their way carefully down the slope; the heavy black clouds were getting closer, and a powerful wind gusted around them, tugging at their clothes, blowing dust into their eyes, making it increasingly difficult to see where they were going.
Sometime later, with the wind gusting so strongly around them that they were struggling to remain on their feet, and rain hammering down around them, they stumbled around a bend in the rutted, muddy track they’d been following for the last half hour or so, and the worst of the wind was abruptly cut off, blocked by a sturdy stone farmhouse that appeared to have practically grown out of the ridge of rock behind it. The five travellers stood clustered together, catching their breath, bewildered by the sudden lack of wind, reaching to steady each other, as the rain continued to pour, drenching them.
Before they could even begin to figure out what to do next, the farmhouse door was flung open.
“Merciful heavens!” a voice cried. “Get in here before you all drown! Whatever possessed you to be out in such a storm?”
“That is an offer I for one am not going to turn down.” Willaway started forward, one arm around Liana, and tugging Varian by the sleeve. Then they were all being ushered into a large, stone-floored kitchen, and over to the hearth where a fire blazed. Towels and blankets were handed out as the travellers dropped their bags and settled on wooden benches, gratefully accepting steaming mugs of sweetened herb tea.
“Thank you,” Varian removed his cape, draping it over the arm of the chair to dry in the warmth.
“Are you injured?”
Varian looked up into the woman’s concerned face. “Just a scratch. It’s been taken care of.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“We’re very grateful for your hospitality.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Looks like you’ve had a rough time.” A man appeared, arms laden with wood which he stacked at one end of the hearth.
“Just a bit,” Willaway agreed, sipping tea.
“Storms like this usually last a few days, but you’re welcome to stay, for as long as you need to.”
It seemed like a dream, one that was scarcely believable, and the travellers could only hope these people were as kind as they seemed. It almost felt like coming home.
The End
“I know.” Varian winced as he settled his tall frame on a nearby rock, careful fingers exploring where some kind of projectile had grazed him as they’d narrowly escaped captivity in the previous zone, coming away stained with blood.
“Let me take a look at that.” Fred dug his medical bag out of the big holdall.
“It’s fine, just a graze.”
“Yeah, well, still needs cleanin’.”
Too tired to argue, Varian let the young doctor clean and dress the shallow wound. He looked around at his travelling companions. “Is anyone else injured?”
“A few bruises, but I’m okay,” Scott said, slumped on the ground and leaning against a rock. “Just tired.”
“Liana?”
“I’m alright.”
“What did those people want with us?”
“I don’t know, Scott.” Varian examined the tear in his shirt and sighed; he’d have to see if he could repair it, once they found a safer place to stop. After four months of almost continuous travelling, what clothing they had was beginning to show distinct signs of wear.
“Nothing good, I shouldn’t imagine,” Willaway said in an ominous tone. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been shooting at us.”
“Yeah,” Fred agreed. “All we have to do is show up somewhere and…” He shrugged. “Suddenly it’s like we’re public enemy number one.”
“We didn’t even DO anything!” Scott pulled one shoe off and shook a small stone out of it before putting it back on again.
“We should keep going, if we can. We’re too close to the gateway.” Varian slung the strap of his bag around him, over the opposite shoulder this time, so that it wouldn’t aggravate his injury. While it was relatively minor, it wouldn’t heal if it was constantly being reopened.
“Mm.” Willaway got wearily to his feet and tested his ankle. “How long has it been since we were last welcomed anywhere?”
“Too long,” was Fred’s opinion. “Whatever happened to hospitality?”
“Seems to be a foreign concept in these parts.” Willaway picked up his backpack. “Well, no point just standing around here waiting for our pursuers to catch up with us.”
“That isn’t likely, is it?” Liana looked worried.
“I hope not.” Fred shoved his medical bag back into his holdall. “A lot of zones don’t seem to welcome outsiders on their territory.”
The travellers set off again, most of them limping for one reason or another, weary and footsore, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, and barely speaking. They’d been walking for a good three hours when Varian, scanning the terrain ahead, noticed something.
“Looks like there’s a storm heading our way.”
“Oh, great. That’s all we need.” Fred scowled at the black clouds piling up on the horizon. A flock of birds, soaring on the freshening wind, drew steadily closer with raucous cries as they tried to keep ahead of the storm front.
“Are those seagulls?” Scott asked excitedly. “Maybe that means we’re getting close to the coast!”
“They look like gulls to me, but don’t get your hopes up, Scottie.”
“Fred’s right, Scott. Gulls can travel hundreds of miles inland when there’s bad weather at sea. Or they could be searching for food.” Varian readjusted the strap of his bag. “It looks like farmland down there.” He pointed ahead and to the left, down a long slope. “We should head that way; perhaps we might find a barn, somewhere we can shelter for a while.”
They picked their way carefully down the slope; the heavy black clouds were getting closer, and a powerful wind gusted around them, tugging at their clothes, blowing dust into their eyes, making it increasingly difficult to see where they were going.
Sometime later, with the wind gusting so strongly around them that they were struggling to remain on their feet, and rain hammering down around them, they stumbled around a bend in the rutted, muddy track they’d been following for the last half hour or so, and the worst of the wind was abruptly cut off, blocked by a sturdy stone farmhouse that appeared to have practically grown out of the ridge of rock behind it. The five travellers stood clustered together, catching their breath, bewildered by the sudden lack of wind, reaching to steady each other, as the rain continued to pour, drenching them.
Before they could even begin to figure out what to do next, the farmhouse door was flung open.
“Merciful heavens!” a voice cried. “Get in here before you all drown! Whatever possessed you to be out in such a storm?”
“That is an offer I for one am not going to turn down.” Willaway started forward, one arm around Liana, and tugging Varian by the sleeve. Then they were all being ushered into a large, stone-floored kitchen, and over to the hearth where a fire blazed. Towels and blankets were handed out as the travellers dropped their bags and settled on wooden benches, gratefully accepting steaming mugs of sweetened herb tea.
“Thank you,” Varian removed his cape, draping it over the arm of the chair to dry in the warmth.
“Are you injured?”
Varian looked up into the woman’s concerned face. “Just a scratch. It’s been taken care of.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“We’re very grateful for your hospitality.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Looks like you’ve had a rough time.” A man appeared, arms laden with wood which he stacked at one end of the hearth.
“Just a bit,” Willaway agreed, sipping tea.
“Storms like this usually last a few days, but you’re welcome to stay, for as long as you need to.”
It seemed like a dream, one that was scarcely believable, and the travellers could only hope these people were as kind as they seemed. It almost felt like coming home.
The End