Page 18 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
“Go,” he said. “I shall take back something else in place of your heart. Go, Princess, go!”
Something shifted inside her, and Eirwen found the strength to stand up. She started to run.
The forest closed in on her, the beaten path dissolving into sludge beneath her boots, the undergrowth snatching at her skirts, shredding the fine fabric, staining the lace black and muddy.
Colour was swallowed up, the brightness of the meadow far behind her stamped by black and brown and a green so dark it slid into the ground. Faint traces of dappled light illuminated great, shadowy shapes, monstrous tendrils clawing at her skin.
Gone were the trees, and in their place, ghouls and goblins forged of bark and leaf with sharp teeth and long, bony fingers. The forest creaked and groaned, slithering and hissing. Her heart burned in her throat, the bitter air choking her.
Was she going to die?
She could not turn back. The palace was no longer home. With a single order, Bianca had taken it from her, erased any warmth with coldness and dread. Home was death. There were only two options; stay and die or run and live.
Stopping would have been easier. Giving up would have been easier. She could curl up and let the forest take her, let the wild animals tear her flesh and let the bracken swallow her remains. It would be quicker than this slow death, this tortured, prolonged agony.
But fear kept her alive, just a little longer, even when night fell and the shadows sharpened, when every sound intensified to the point of a knife. Movement was everywhere and nowhere. She could not keep still, even though every muscle felt like it was on fire and she could no longer feel her limbs.
She took a dive, the ground skidding out beneath her, tumbling into a ditch. Pain blazed at her ankle, her hands torn by thorns.
A shape rose out of the dark. The point of something silvery gleamed out of the gloom. A fang? A claw?
“Please don’t eat me,” she whispered hoarsely.
“I’ve never eaten a human before,” said a deep voice. “Are you tasty?”
Whether it was the pain in her ankle, the lack of food and water, or the shock of the voice in the dark, Eirwen did not know, but a second later she lost all feeling, total and complete darkness finally closing in on her.
∞∞∞
She woke in the warmth, next to the glow of a roaring fire. Her hands had been neatly bandaged, and someone was tending to her ankle with rough but gentle fingers. Someone else was patting her hand.
“Is she waking up?” said a voice.
“Good. It can go once it’s awake.”
“Onyx! Be more gentle.”
“You didn’t marry me because I was gentle.”
Eirwen sat up, rubbing her eyes. Five pairs of eyes fixed on her, each belonging to a very different-looking dwarf.
“It lives,” said the grumpy one.
“How are you, dear?” said the one at her side. She had a warm, rosy face.
“I’m… I’m all right.”
“What’s your name?” said another. He was kind, cheerful-sounding.
“E...Eirwen.”
“Pretty.” He smiled. “I’m Merry.”
“Eirwen?” said another voice. Dark-skinned, serious-looking. Taller than the others. Dressed like a hunter. Her voice matched the one from the woods. “Like the princess?”
“Just like that, yes.”
“Must be a common human name,” said the dwarf by her ankle.
