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In her infinite wisdom, Carmen placed the turnip wagon next to the crater and lowered the ramp. That makes it easier to pull him up and onto it, despite still feeling like we are hauling up a big bag of bricks.
He is tall, with feet that stick out the end of the wagon like toy boats.
“That’s good enough,” Carmen said, rapidly pulling a blanket over the being.
I am sweating profusely, even feeling a little faint from the abrupt movement, but I keep moving. I haven’t been so inspired and stimulated in my entire life.
Carmen climbed onto the driver’s seat of the cart as I made sure the blanket was covering the creature completely. The orcs are coming closer, their war cries sharp and deafening.
“Go, go, go,” I mutter.
The cart, which is pulled by a few donkeys belonging to the farm across the road, begins hightailing it out of there. I watch as the village disappears behind us, tiny specs of orcs rolling into the area like a swarm of flies around the crater in the ground.
Relief washed over me as we pulled around a hill that would surely keep us hidden from the eyes of our stupid rulers. Carmen also let out a long sigh, then compassionately clapped me on the back.
“We are going to have a long talk later about what the fuck is going on in that pretty head, Jenna,” she muttered.
I smile, but my mind is elsewhere. I peered behind us into the cart, watching the blanket rise and fall with the being’s breathing. I am thankful he is alive for a reason that remains lost to me, but I don’t care. I am intuitive enough to know that this is a turning point in my life.
Without hesitation, I reached back and placed a hand on the creature’s shoulder. I feel Carmen’s confusion as we trot along back to the farm.
FIVE
VERRIN
My eyes flutter open to the sight of a blank, low ceiling, sunlight the color of tangerine splashing across the surface. The bed beneath me is lumpy and entirely too small. My limbs are hanging off the end crudely like popsicle sticks. It takes me a few seconds to rise into cognition, and I grunt, moving my body around on the bed, and come to a strange realization.
This isn’t a dream. Nor is this my demon-sized, silk-linen bed.
I am feeling a bit woozy, so I try to sit up slowly, pressing my hands into the tiny structure. I am rarely freaked out and usually take the turning of events as exciting opportunities, but this experience certainly edges me closer to panic.
My feet dangle off the end of the bed as I move my ears to pick up sounds around the room while trying to recall where I was before arriving in such an odd dwelling.
There is a clothing dresser with a mirror in the room, next to stacks upon stacks of dusty, seemingly old books. Laid on top of those books are clothes and ample pairs of shoes scattered below it. They look to be caked in dirt.
I close my eyes tightly, trying to remove all visual stimulation for the time being. Where was I before?
Yes, I was sitting on my leather couch, swirling a vintage brew, ruminating on the various conniving ways I could hatch yet another sinister scheme. It gives me great pleasure and delight, and I was sitting there, marinating on the various prospects …
Then, there was pain.
A hot, scorching pain unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life, which began at the top of my skull and moved down my spine like an electric current. The pain had been so intense and abominable that everything had cut to black.
Then I somehow ended up here … with furniture that looked like it had withstood a brawl … barely.
Nothing seems to make any sense, and my thoughts are slow and tangled. I was considering rising to my feet to look around the rest of the dwelling when the door into the room opened.
“Hi.”
A voice comes from the door, and I snap my stare toward it. Initially, I go into defense mode, irritated by the confusion plaguing my mind, wary of the person who may have taken me into captivity.
But my irritation is rebuked by the sight of the creature standing at the entrance, my thoughts softened and, perhaps …intrigued.
A woman stood there holding a tray of what looked like food along with a glass of mineralized water. But that isn’t what has my attention, not in the slightest.
She has an inferno of dazzling red hair pulled up from her shoulders and held together by a soft scarf. Her facial expression is one of curiosity rather than fright. Her eyes stand in stark contrast to the rest of the room's bleakness, a shade of green that is contemplative, like the forest I was raised near as a child.
Although her attire is rather homely, with a loose top and bottoms that were clearly used in the ravages of hard work, I detect a shapeliness beneath it that makes my mouth begin to moisten.
