Fern
When I wake under the tree, I lay still, listening for any sounds that would tell me I’ve been found. Soon, the normal sounds and the urgency of my bladder convince me that I’m safe enough.
I head east, not bothering to cover my trail. It’s a blind dash at this point. The terrain is uneven, hilly, and it’s not easy. They will be sleeping for at least four more hours, given what I saw when I was captive. I need to find a house or village. Anything friendly.
Alternating between a fast walk and a jog, I cram a piece of cheese in my mouth. I can't full out run in order to conserve my energy in case of a crisis.
A happily-burbling stream quickly appears. I decide to alter my course, and, pulling the leather gloves off my feet, get into the stream to cover my tracks. Based on the sun, I’m now traveling in a south-easternly direction, but following a stream down will almost always lead to a bigger river and a bigger river almost always means a settlement. My eyes catch on a plant as I’m power-walking. I jolt to a halt, heading for the shore.Water-hemlock.Perfect. I yank up the white-yellow flowers and rip off the roots, shoving them into a pouch on my waist. Just in case. Even if my stomach sours at the thought of poisoning Theo, orBen, or Arch. It doesn’t help that I bruised a pine in my removal of the water hemlock, the scent of the broken needles reminding me of Theo.
The stream is relatively shallow and even, so I move quickly. I chug my water, refilling the waterskin from the stream. Slowing to a walk, I chew small bites of bread. I swipe a couple handfuls of blackberries from some bushes near the water, savoring the ripe sweetness that bursts upon my tongue.
It, for no reason at all, reminds me of Arch finishing inside my mouth, his purr at my behavior, how he rumbled to tell me to let his seed spill from my mouth and how Ben and Theo lapped it off of me. Now I’m walking in a stream with heat between my legs.Just fucking great.
I push myself to run, to lose these thoughts in the ablation of hard work.Godsdamn all three of them.
Soon enough, I’m panting and out of breath. I flick a glance at the sky, the sparse trees letting me see the sun’s location. I estimate I have an hour before they wake.
The goyles tried to keep that knowledge of when exactly they slept hard and when exactly they woke out of public knowledge, lest we rebellious humans try something.And I certainly would have planned an attack, if I had known the hours.
I do now, fuckers.
As I slow to take a drink of water, I spot a clearing ahead. I slide to the side of the stream, staying hidden as I cautiously approach. A simple stone house, some chickens pecking around, a few other houses farther back. Smoke rises from each chimney. A little family group, probably. My eyes search.
A small blue dishcloth, left, forgotten, on the clothesline. Except it’s not forgotten. My heart leaps. It’s the sign of the Bells.Yes!
No one is outside but that means naught and I quickly climb the bank, heading towards the first stone house. I knock gently on the worn wood door.
“What the stones—” A large purple-tinted gargoyle yanks the door open, his gaze above me, obviously expecting another goyle.
Shock, then fear hits me, my gut turning over.
I twist on my heel to flee. But a cold, heavy hand lands upon my shoulder roughly, and I am drug inside the small home.
“WE NEED TO REPORT HER!” The smallest goyle argues, “She’s obviously escaped. The brides were chosen just the other day, do you think it’s a coincidence?”
The purple one rustles his wings, his eyes boring into me. “She could be an escaped rebel. Not a bride. In which case, we’re able to do what we please with her.”
I glare at him, unable to do anything else because they gagged me and tied my hands behind my back, after slapping me around a bit. I suppose I did spit upon two of them and try to claw a few faces. I’m sitting in the corner near the woodstove, madder than a wet hen.I’m going to murder these fuckers.
The squat goyle grabs his dick through his worn pants. “She’s funny looking but I wager her cunt is fine.” He sniffs, “‘Sides, she smells delicious.”
My eyebrows pull down.Not a chance in hell.
The small one speaks again, “And if she belongs to the bigwigs in that lake house? You think they’ll allow us to stay in their lands if we take what is theirs?”
I like that one, he’s smart.
“Fly off and tell them if you like, Jonathan, but I think we’ll have some fun.” His cruel eyes land on me and I recoil. “We’lldispose of her when we’re bored. We didn’t see a godsdamn thing, did we, Jakob?”
The squat one stands, “Nope, not a fuckin’ thing. Me first.” And he crosses the small space and grabs my arm, dragging me to the middle of the room as I kick and twist.
Horror turns my stomach. I’ve been in some tight spaces before, but the odds here are abysmal.I’m not going down without taking one with me though, godsdamn it, I vow, even as bile bubbles disconcertingly in my stomach.This might be it. My last hurrah.
The goyle grabs my face and for a moment, all I can take in is his sour breath.
“I’d like to use that mouth, but I think it will have to wait until you’re a bit more broken in.”
I growl behind my gag and this shithead chuckles. He backhands me hard enough that I fall to the floor.
