Except for an aching back and bruises, it appeared she’d sustained no more serious injury thanks to the soft bed of leaves, but a thick jutting tree root had not only halted her tumble but knocked her clean out.
A slight stickiness denoted a cut to the side of her head but she felt surprisingly well.
Just rather…alone.
She peered to one side then the other, yet all that met her eyes were craggy trunks and tangled brambles, so with habit skirts soggy and dragging, she scrabbled up the trench bank to survey from higher ground.
Only to find more craggy trunks and tangled brambles.
Not a horse in sight. Nor a path to follow.
Nothing.
Not even a bird sang in companionship, as though this ancient part of the forest was too dark, too abandoned, too forgotten…
Gulping, she prayed that Thos and Daniel had sustained no injury, that the two grooms had been able to return to the castle and that men would come searching, yet… She gazed around at this neglected corner.
It could be hours.
Days…
So she strove to recall Mr Grampy Tom’s advice on the orientation of the forest relative to the castle, and spinning, she set off in the direction that held a little more light, for surely the trees would continue to thin.
Her step was cautious, roots bared and twisting to resemble old bones coated in withered skin. The lichen-clad trees bunched like battle-weary soldiers, fallen trunks leaning in dying repose against their stronger comrades.
A crow startled her as it flew from a branch – sombre and hooded.
No longer was the forest divine and peaceful, that serene timelessness transformed to sinister endlessness.
And a low…panic set in.
That she’d have to spend the night in such a deserted spot before anyone found her – and all those tales of fatal highwaymen and ghostly lovers were no longer laughable but tangible within this deadened woodland.
Her palms felt damp and she abandoned her gloves.
A twig snapped and she gasped, staring to one side then the other.
A sense of being watched shrouded her, of someone standing right behind her and–
She whirled, hands out.
No one stood there…
But that earlier light had vanished as though the gloom followed her, enclosing her.
Breath hitched and she swivelled, darted on, feet faltering over a tumbled forgotten wall.
Surely if she just headed straight, it would eventually lead somewhere. But thorny tendrils clutched at her petticoats like pleading fingers and boggy ditches thwarted her route.
Before she could prevent it, the ivy-like fronds of her nightmares crept into her mind – of running through the dark, alone and fearful.
The leaves rustled as a slight breeze struck up; had it whispered her name? And a sob escaped as she rushed her step. Beard lichen dripped from branches to brush her cheeks, and cavernous hollows on the trees leered.
Darkness all around. No escape.
A man’s voice calling – someone was after her.
The shadow ofhim.
