Page 18 of The Huntsman's Heart
My fingers brush something in the leaf litter that feels more solid. A log. Its rough bark against my fingertips breaks me out of my panic for one single moment as I reach across my body and close both hands around the thick branch. A little voice whispers that the log is too heavy. It will make a poor weapon if I can’t even lift it.
Then my fingers close around it, and I shut my eyes and swing. The dull thud of the impact comes with a wet, squelching noise that sends a shudder all the way down my spine.
I drop the log and scramble to my feet when I realize the spider isn’t looming over me anymore. I cannot see it anywhere. Most likely a bigger, more fearsome monster has arrived to steal its dinner.
I do not plan to linger here and find out.
I run for longer than I think is possible. Fear drives me onward. I do not even feel the tightness in my abdomen or the shortness of breath that I expect. I feel nothing but cold fear.
When I finally stop to look around me and reassure myself there’s nothing chasing me, I do not recognize the part of the forest where I’ve ended up.
The trees are even taller here and closer together. A tall-trunked type of evergreen which juts up toward the sky. Somehow the green of their thin needle-like leaves is comforting. A sign of life in an otherwise foreboding place.
A crumbling stone wall peeps out from behind a fallen branch, and I’m drawn closer to look. Who built this wall here so far inside the Gloamwald? Perhaps I’ve come to the edge of the forest after all and am almost home safe.
As I inspect the wall, my eye is drawn along its length to a sturdier section where a fearsome looking gargoyle tops a stone plinth. The statue has the figure of a man, bent over into a beast-like crouch. His legs are shaped like a lion’s, with two heavy paws, and he has a leonine tail curling around from behind. His arms and hands are like a man's though.
His back sprouts two bird-like wings. His face would be handsome save for the scowl fixed permanently on his features. He looks as if he is poised to leap onto intruders the moment they pass. But as I take a hesitant step forward, he remains frozen in place.
Not trusting anything in this wood, I keep my eyes on the gargoyle as I pass, half expecting him to come to life as soon as I look away.
When I finally have no choice, I twist my head to find another stone creature glaring down at me from a new section of wall opposite. I jump, then realize how foolish I am being.
He is of a pair with the other; only the skilled artisan who made them was thoughtful enough to give them different faces.This gargoyle somehow looks softer than his brother, his lips fuller despite their grimace. What a strangely beautiful act.
Under my feet the ground has changed. It feels firmer, and I realize there are stone pavers beneath the leaf litter. This must have been a courtyard once upon a time.
Sure enough, as I explore further I find a stone building almost obscured behind the trees and vines which have taken root.
There’s something reassuring about a building—even a crumbling one. Something that promises a hearth and a fire and a safe place to sleep.
Oddly, I don't feel tired. I cannot remember the last time I slept unless I was unconscious longer than I imagined after Alaric’s attack.
My brow furrows. I don’t have a clear memory of what happened before he abandoned me. I do remember his cold hands on me; the wreck he made of my dress; the searing pain as he pushed into me. But after that…
I thrust the memories aside. It doesn’t matter.
He will pay for his crime. But to make him pay, I must find my way home.
This is as good a place as I think I’ll find to spend the night.
If I had any concept of how to start a fire without a flint, I would try. As it is, I can only find a sturdy corner and some soft leaves and endure the night.
Odd that I do not feel cold.
Perhaps the bitterness has fallen away from the winter nights and we are closer to spring than I thought. True dark is descending on the forest by the time I have settled in my makeshift bed. I feel like a little bird dropped out of the nest, unable to fly home.
Just like that little bird, the whole world is out to get me.
An ache takes root in my chest, and I rub at the skin between my breasts, which feels tender. I’ve never been more vulnerable or alone.
I must stay strong, though. I must not give in. If only I could turn myself into stone as hard as my gargoyle companions. Impenetrable, invulnerable stone.
Then nothing would ever hurt me again.
Of course, that is nonsense. I see how the walls of this once mighty castle have crumbled with my own eyes. Stone may look immortal, but its demise is simply slower. It still surrenders to wind and weather in the end.
And so will Alaric, though he seems so much stronger and more powerful than I am. Though he answers to a queen who has implanted herself on a throne she has no right to.
