Quick heavy thuds that repeat. A rhythmic sound that thumps out a predictable echo.
Leather soles on a pebbled path.
Big shoes. Big feet.
A big man closing in on me.
He’s quick, but I’m quicker.
He’s much larger and stronger than I am, but I’ve been waiting for a night like this all my life.
I make it to the maze, and a wall of citrus and pine wafts up from the hedge, enveloping me in a strong embrace. A long, comforting embrace. It’s almost as though it’s been expecting me, as though this is where I’ve belonged all along.
I sprint at top speed through the narrow passage carved into the conifers, lungs screaming as the path I’m on comes to a dead end. My heart thunders. An owl hoots from a high branch in a birch tree.
The lord’s footsteps grow closer. Louder, and harder, and faster.
I dart back the way I came, and swerve right—panting frantically, throat burning—and then left.
I turn this way and that, trailing my hands along the hedge to feel my way as my vision grows blurry. I run until I no longer know where the house is in proximity to me. Where the stables are, or the library.
Where north is. Or south.
Where I am, or where the sky is.
I only know one thing. One thing only.
Where he is.
He’s close. He’s closing in on me. He knows the maze better than I do. He knows up from down, and he knows where I am.
The way I’m running is chaotic and disordered. His path is a straight line that leads directly to me.
I come to another dead end, and this time, there is no left or right. No way back. He’s too close. I look for an escape, but find none, so I crouch, making myself as small as I can, and try to slow my breathing to avoid detection. I press myself into the hedge, under the thickest part of an old woody trunk, and take cover.
The danger closing in on me is imagined. The fear is real and electrifying.
He’s slowed his pace now, his steps lighter and quieter than they were moments ago. Where my breathing is erratic, his is even. He whistles a pleasant, folksy tune as he draws near, sending a shiver of dread through my shoulders. Then he falls silent.
For the first time since I started running, I’ve lost him. I don’t know where the house is, or where the sky is, or where he is in the maze. I only know that he’s close.
I curse his lack of scent. If I could catch it, I’d know where he is, and I’d have a chance of getting away.
Things being what they are, I huddle in the shadows, hiding as best I can, as my internal wiring goes haywire. Sparks fly. Nerves sing. Instinct turns me to solid ice.
Hideit whispers.Stay small and out of sight. Stay safe, and you won’t get into trouble.
I stay where I am, quaking, shaking from unreal danger and very real fright. I hold my breath when instinct warns that he’s close, but I don’t move.
I can’t.
I’ve lost the use of my legs, and quite possibly, my arms.
The moment drags out, stretching disproportionately as shadows and shards of moonlight distort objects around me. I don’t blink or breathe. My eyes start to burn and tension tightens like a vise around the back of my neck, and suddenly…
I’m weightless.
I’m on the ground one second, the next I’m not. I’m safe, and then I’m kicking and being dragged backward through branches and leaves. My legs and feet are in the air, my arms thrashing, hands clawing at the tangle of shadows in front of me.
