Thunder crashed against the mountain side. Stones rattled free and landed in the sprigs of grass that grew in the cracks. Torrents of rain obscured my view of the village beyond the trees.
Another place I didn’t feel welcome in.
Hunkered in an abandoned bear cave, I thought of home. Of Father and the wooden rabbits I’d carve under his watchful eye. Things had been so wonderful before the hunt for sorcerers. I still didn’t fully understand why everything had changed.
Gossip in Brinkel suggested the king had died because of a wizard. Some ladies in Parlom had obsessed over the five sons who now fought for control. Then there were the fishermen on the coasts near Sherman’s manor.
They said if Prince Damocles had his way, sorcerers would be burned on every street corner.
Certainly he’d give grace to a twelve-year-old. Yet the further I travel inland and the longer I ponder, the more I feel like the walking dead. Spurts of magic could be seen on the outskirts of the kingdom, though not as much now.
But where soldiers roam, the people cower.
I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to stave the cold in my shoulders. The chill emanated from deep within though, a symptom of my liminal circumstances. Every breath felt like my last, life flashing before my eyes. Months of travel, and all I could remember was how good life was before.
Now I was alone.
Lightning speared the air, brightening the cavern.
I flinched, turning my face. This couldn’t possibly last forever. Three days of rain kept me trapped here. Food now gone, my stomach grumbled for relief. I didn’t even have a block of wood to distract me. Not that I needed to utilize magic in the foothills of Arabbess.
My stomach gurgled more painfully this time, insides feeling hollow.
Peering out the cavern opening, the rain seemed less daunting. If I got under the thick foliage of the trees, I’d be protected enough to catch some dinner.
Mouth watering at the thought, I stood. I rubbed my shoulders vigorously, glaring at the nonstop downpour. Lightning revealed the tree line. Thunder shook the mountain.
I ran out. Threadbare clothes drenched in seconds, I splashed down the rough path and leapt into the underbrush. Ferns bent under the heavy rain, snapped branches decorating the ground. Blinded by droplets, I pumped my arms to keep my momentum. My legs grew numb with cold, shoes squishing in the grass.
I slammed into a tree, gripping the course bark to stay standing. Dragging my sopping blond locks out of my eyes, I stared at the sky. Rain still pounded through the thick foliage, though it felt less like swimming in the ocean. More like a raging river.
Gulping air, I tried to hear anything other than the perpetual pounding of water. The animals were smarter than me, staying inside where it was dry.
Chattering vibrated through my skull. I held my jaw, but my teeth continued to bang against each other. Shaking out my knocking knees, I sought something worthwhile to eat. Berries, mushrooms, something.
Anything.
I don’t remember the cold. Don’t remember the warmth. Don’t remember falling into mud. Only the bliss. The memory of Father stroking my back in that prison, protecting me from the soldiers and their torches. I had been hungry then, but I could wait.
Because Father would fix everything.
Why didn’t he?
Murmurs filled the blackness. Indiscernible words like when the soldiers rushed into our house. Father had told me to hide in my room, far away from the door. But they’d found me, ripping apart the entire house. Did it still stand?
“Seems dead to me.”
I probably was. Though I would think spirits don’t experience back pain.
“No, sir. I assure you he’s alive.”
Why was it cold again? I rolled my shoulders, slow and labored. My eyelids peeled open, the world a deep blue. Shadows darkened certain pockets, growing more defined when a streak of light appeared.
“Father.”
My elbows and knees seemed to creak, toes and fingers dry and raw. My head lolled onto the pillow beneath me, lavender tickling my nose. Until a sharper scent got shoved in my face.
I sneezed and coughed, vision clearing.
A man with thick dark hair and a fancy pocket watch stood by the paned window. A man of the same height but leaner build came near, the whites of his eyes seemingly glowing in the low light.
His crossed arms clenched as he bent with disgusted awe. “He all right?”
Cold hands touched my forehead. Another man, much grayer than the others, sat beside me with eyes masked by spectacles. “His waking up is a good sign. I believe you got to him in time.”
“But he’s not the lost child Weston was seeking,” the other man said. He popped open his pocket watch but stared at the rain. “Seems the search was futile after all.”
The young man glowered a moment but inhaled a calmer demeanor. “My men are still looking. There’s a chance we’ll find the stable boy before he dies of cold.”
“Or you replace him with this one.” The man’s watch snapped closed as he eyed the young man. “Have one of the messengers call them back. We need our men able to patrol the wall.”
“They’ll return in four hours whether they find him or not.”
A strange silence gripped the room. The young man refused to look at the older and the older refused to look away. His finger clicked against the cover of the glittering watch. He approached until he breathed down the neck of the young man.
Shutting his eyes with a stiff lip, he said, “I’ll recall the men immediately.”
The clicking stopped. “Doctor, nurse this one back to health. He’s to be ready to work in the morning.” The man left without another word.
The young man balled his fists, glaring at the floor.
I swallowed stiffly. Voice hoarse, I said, “Thank you.”
He lifted his head, expression taut. “If you don’t earn your keep, I’ll toss you back into that forest.”