Page 17 of The Huntsman's Heart
I look around me. Alaric is nowhere to be seen. Nor is his horse.
I’m all alone in the Gloamwald.
He may as well have finished the job he started by leaving me here. I think it crueler of him that he did not. But I expect no less from the monster who dragged me from my dying father’s bedside against my will, who forced himself on me and tried to take his pleasure from my body.
I’m sore between my legs as well. The memory of his hard member splitting me open makes me press a hand to where I ache, sucking in a breath at the reminder of the pain.Disturbingly, there’s also a rush of excitement as I think of the look on his face when he couldn’t stay hard. The way he cowed at my insults.
Impossibly, I’m slick between my legs, and I wrinkle my nose, forcing my thoughts away from the disturbing memories.
I cannot lay here in the dirt until a monster decides I’ll make a tasty meal. There’s a chance my father may live still. I must try to make it back to the keep.
Struggling to my feet, I try to tug the torn parts of my clothing back together. It is useless. Alaric took my modesty too.
Cursing him under my breath, I yank the lacing from my ruined corset and discard it. I have a hundred others in my closet. All I need to do is get home. Using the tie, I do a makeshift job of lacing up the fabric of my chemise. Then I do up what buttons remain on my jacket, and I’m covered at least. It feelsstrange to have so much freedom of movement. I feel oddly wild without the familiar boning of my corset, conscious of every twist or bend I’m able to make which I would not normally.
I look around, but I cannot make out a path or track. There’s no indication of the way we came through the forest. The light is dim, but somewhere the sun has risen. I hope that means the creatures of the forest are sleeping, burrowed deep in whatever foul dens they keep. With a shudder, I choose a direction and set off. Any choice is better than waiting here for night to fall again. For another one of those beasts which attacked me last night to find me.
The woods are eerily quiet. No birdsong to lift my spirits. It is strange to have not a single soul nearby to speak to.
Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves makes me jump for the first hour or so. I’m on alert, looking around fearfully. But I never see another creature.
Eventually I begin to relax a little. There’s only so many times I can startle at the sound of a snapping branch or wind creaking wood.
I walk for what feels like half a day. I cannot see the sun to tell the hour, but it must be nearing midday. I see no sign of a path or road. Should I turn back? How much longer do I walk in this direction before I accept it is taking me deeper into the forest?
Last night Alaric made me walk behind his horse for hours. Before that he had me over the saddle, so it stands to reason it could take me more than a single day to make my way back, but if I’m going in the wrong direction, I’m only adding to the distance between me and Blackthorn.
I start to worry again about nightfall. I haven’t encountered anything yet, but perhaps I was correct in assuming they would all be nocturnal.
Finally I grow weary. I don’t feel hungry, which is unexpected. It must be long past first-meal. I have no water with me, but my mouth is not dry.
It’s then I hear the chittering noise. It is like no other sound I’ve ever heard before, but it is instantly unsettling. My steps slow on their own. I’m conscious of each tiny sound again.
Something catches my eye in the bare branches of the trees ahead, but I do not register why until I take another step and the silken glimmer of light across a spider’s web reveals just how enormous it is. The web stretches between two trees, woven in neat strands forming concentric rings and stretching out to the upper branches far above my head. How could one spider weave so much silk? And how would it jump so far? The trees are at least the height of my body in distance apart. What kind of spider made this monstrous web?
The answer sits silently in front of me, watching me with four pairs of pitch-black eyes.
No, not silent. It is the spider making those unsettling chirping sounds I've been hearing.
I’m not the sort to scream if a spider crawls on the wall of my room or if a web brushes my arm, leaving its sticky trail on my skin.
I scream now. I cannot help it.
The creature flicks enormous, jointed fangs on each side of its face and crouches lower. Even so, it is more than half my height; its long fury elbows stick up higher than the rest of its body, higher even than my head.
So much for making it through the day with no monstrous encounters. I may not make it through the next few moments if I do not move quickly.
Skin prickling with fear, I turn and stumble back between the trees as fast as I can go. What hope do I have of outrunning a monster with eight legs? It’s pointless.
But I have no weapon and no training. I have no chance of killing it either.
The only hope I can cling to is that the creature may not be vicious. That it may not actually eat humans. Perhaps it merely means to warn me away from its nest.
One glance behind is enough to squash that hope. The giant spider crawls easily through the undergrowth behind, huge fangs spread wide and venom dripping from its mouth.
Smothering another scream, I push myself to run faster, pulling at my skirts to try to give myself no impediment. I’m so worried about my skirts I don’t see the rotting log half buried under a pile of fallen leaves. The toe of my boot catches in the crumbling wood and I trip, stumbling forward, unable to right myself. The ground is soft and wet when I hit it. On instinct I twist myself around, but the beast is on me already, fangs dripping onto my skirts, huge fury legs caging me in. I scrabble backward, but it’s useless.
I can’t even get up, let alone run.
