I lifted my skirts, my dress heavy with the water soaking it from my knees down. My feet were numb, and the water splashed slightly with every step I made.
The sound of thundering horses was getting closer, but I couldn't let them catch up to me. Pressing forward, I stepped deeper into the water. I turned, panting, at the sound of dogs barking. They couldn't track me in the water, could they?
Wading to the riverbank, I clambered out, using a tree branch to pull myself up and to keep my balance. My bare feet left prints in the wet mud, but I didn't have time to stop and cover them up. The sound of barking was getting louder, and I could hear men shouting.
Running, my knees hitting my wet skirts and my feet slipping on wet leaves, I tried to focus on what was ahead of me, instead of what was behind. But what was ahead of me? Behind, I knew. Behind was horses and dogs, men who would bind my wrists in rope and have me walk back to the dark castle, where I would be thrown back into the cell that smelt of mould and had water dripping from the ceiling. I would sit back against the jagged rock walls, and pull my thin dress tightly around my body, trying to ward off the chill.
Ahead of me? I couldn't go home, a banishment was for life, even if you were the king's daughter. The neighbouring kingdoms were mostly at war with my father, none of them would give me a welcome any kinder than what I faced behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to try and gauge how close the dogs were, but I lost balance and the floor closed in on my as I landed hard on the forest floor. I pushed myself up with my hands, freezing when I saw the hooves of a horse walking up to me and stopping next to my body.
"Do you need a hand?"
I raised my head, reaching up to push my hair out of my face, and looked into the face of a man whose hair and face was covered with dirt, his shirt torn and barely hanging from his shoulders. The horse, however, was tall, it's shoulders broad with power, and it's saddle was embossed with the crest of the castle I had just escaped.
"We don't have much time, if you're not getting on, I'm going." he urged, leaning over and holding a hand down to me. I reached up and took it, my hand leaving a smear of mud on his as he pulled me to my feet. "I can't pull you up, you'll have to get on yourself," he said, his attention snapping from me to the sound of the dogs and the voices of the men closing in on us.
I reached up and grabbed hold of the saddle, closing my eyes briefly to pray that I still had the strength to do what I used to do as a child, pulling myself on the back of my elder brother's horse before we galloped away from our lessons. I jumped, pulling myself up, and found myself flush against the man's back. It was only when I wrapped my arms around his waist that I noticed how thin he was, and that there was a deep gash in his arm.
"You're hurt," I stated and he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his back and into my body.
"And you're filthy. We're a right pair. Hold on," he wheeled the horse around and I tightened my grip as he kicked the horse on. The horse shook its head at the request of carrying two people, but between us, we were probably no heavier than the warriors he was used to carrying, and he threw himself forward into a canter, the man constantly urging him on as we weaved through trees.
The trees opened up into a wide, open field, and the man cursed as he pushed the horse on. I tried to look behind us, but my hair was flying around with the speed and I couldn't get a good look. Instead, I buried my face in the stranger's back, closing my eyes and praying to the gods that we would make it.
I lifted my head when the man pulled the horse up, glancing over my shoulder again. We had gained a little distance from the dogs, but it wouldn't take long for them to catch up.
"Get off," the man demanded and I slid off the horse, watching as the man did the same, slapping the horse on the rear to get him to move, galloping away from us.
"What-"
"Shh, come on," the man reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me along behind him. I stumbled, trying to keep up. He had a heavy limp, and grunted every now and again as he walked. He stopped abruptly at a treeline and I almost walked into him as he looked around, making sure no one was following us. He leant over, grabbing what I saw as a tangled mess of vines and moss, and pulled it up off the floor. "Go, quickly." I ducked under it, and he followed me into a small area that could almost be classed as a room, enclosed in vines and encircled by trees and moss.
"What is this place?" I asked and he shushed me, watching through a small hole in the plants.
"She's got a horse!" someone yelled and I flinched at the sound, hugging my arms to my body in a bid to generate some warmth. "There are tracks in the grass!"
"Follow them!" another voice yelled and the sound of thundering hooves picked back up, and slowly faded into the distance.
"How did you know that would work?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper as the man stepped away from the vines.
"I didn't," he mumbled, crumpling to the floor. I rushed to his side, checking over his body. The jagged cut in his arm was worse than I had previously thought, and his leg was swollen and bleeding under his ripped trousers. I reached for my skirt, the fabric cold in my hands, and ripped a piece off, wishing it was at least dry. I wrapped it tightly around his arm, hoping that it would stop the bleeding and the river water wouldn't make it worse.
I reached down for his leg, and peeled back the ripped materiel. There was a clean cut, unlike the long one across his arm, and it looked small enough. For a moment I wondered why it was causing him so many problems, but when I rested my hand against the swollen skin, he cried out and jerked his leg away from me, rolling onto his side. The wound wasn't just a cut, it went through from the front of his leg to the back. As I looked at his bloodstained trousers, something clicked in the back of my head. It was a stab wound. A knife had been forced all the way through his leg, potentially to pin him down. A shiver ran through my body at the thought and I reached for my dress again. Perhaps the coolness would help with the swelling.
When I wrapped the material around his leg, he jerked again, and his hand shot out to grab my wrist. I turned to look at him. His head was raised off the floor and his eyes were filled with pain. With his hair falling from his face, I could see the cuts on his face, one across the side of his forehead and another running directly across his cheek. Dried blood streaked across his face, engrained with dirt and mud, and his grip on my wrist was hard.
“I’m trying to help you,” I told him, but his grip didn’t waver. “You’re hurting me,” I added, and his gaze left mine and fell to his hand on my wrist. He let go and his hand fell to the floor as his head rested back against the floor again. I reached for his leg and his face screwed up in pain, a small moan escaping his lips, but he moved the leg so I could wrap my scrap of dress around it, wincing when I laid the cold fabric against his skin.
“Who are you?” He gasped and I frowned slightly. Who was I? I wasn’t a princess anymore, my banishment set that to rest. I wasn’t a prisoner either, held to a ransom that was never going to be paid.
“I'm a fugitive, just like you."
And done!
I'm not going to lie, I didn't write this for my blog, and I wrote it ages ago (being at least a month ago!) But, I had three hours to get a post ready for today, and I spent most of that time baking.
On the plus side, this story gets to be used somewhere, and I get lots of biscuits to eat! (That's British biscuits, by the way).
Okay, that's all for now...
Bye!
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