flowed into a small basin. A thin mist hung in the air, making everything it touched glisten: the blue and yellow wildflowers, the baby’s breath, tall blades of dark green grass, shiny smooth rocks.
Roland, who proved himself every bit of a gentleman, offered me a hand to get down from Nole’s horse, and I took it without hesitation. Though I knew I should not care for Roland, it was impossible not to. He reminded me of my father: strong, protective, and above all, good. After all, most men didn’t help raise other men’s children without any type of obligation attached. I believed him to be an honorable man, just misguided. I was certain I could use his growing affection for me to secure my release.
I had to keep reminding myself that sharing information about me was about getting them to like me and not the other way around. I couldn’t allow myself to grow fond of them, no matter how clouded my feelings were becoming.
I dismounted the horse and walked to the water’s edge so that I could glimpse my reflection. The water was clear and calm but for a red kipper fish lazily skimming the pebbles along the water’s floor. My usually wavy hair hung bone straight, weighed down with a pound or more of dried mud. My tourmaline green eyes looked flat, and dark crescents sat below them. But my skin was intact—just like always. Granted, a touch paler than normal, even for me.
I wanted to jump head first into the water and wash away the layers of dirt and dried blood that had had taken up residence on my skin. How many days since I cleaned myself? Five? Six? The days seemed to run into one another like one big, long blur, no beginning and no end. Just one long, continuous, and utterly exhausting day.
Otis and James assembled logs and kindling on the pebbled shore next to the deep pool of crystal-clear water. Remmie knelt by the edge of the forest and dragged his fingers through the mud, painting his face with mud as if he meant to blend in with the dirt. He did this each time he went into the woods to hunt. Then he took a blade from his boot and sliced his palm, squeezing his hand until blood dripped from where he’d taken the mud.
“You look confused.” Roland made me jump. “I startled you.”
“I didn’t hear you coming.” I tore my gaze away from Remmie as he slung a quiver full of arrows over his shoulder. With a bow in his hand he hurried into the forest at a pace my eyes had difficulty following. He always brought food to the fire, and he always did so alone. “Why does he make himself bleed before hunting? And the mud? I don’t understand. I learned about savages…” I spun around to face Roland. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.”
Roland raised a hand and waved it through the air as if to brush off the offense. “We must give to get. We offer a piece of ourselves before taking from the land. The more we take without giving back, the more our strength fades.”
“Your kind takes from mine all the time and you don’t seem to be the weaker for it.” The words came out before I could stop them, and I wondered if he’d respond with anger. Perhaps the others might have, but not him. I couldn’t see him raising his hand to anyone.
“I am not my king. I pledged allegiance to the crown before he was crowned and I am a man of honor. A man of my word. I will serve him until I die. But don’t believe for a second that I support his choices or his tactics.”
“You say you’re a man of honor and yet you overpower and kidnap an innocent woman.”
Roland inhaled deeply and nodded before walking away from me. I’d pushed too hard. If only I’d shown some restraint. I needed his help and instead of getting him to talk to me and trust me, I’d forced him to clam up.
I sat on the damp grass alone, waiting for them to bind my hands and wrists like they did every time we stopped. I held up my arms to observe the damage the frequent binding had left on my wrists; they were pink and
Roland, who proved himself every bit of a gentleman, offered me a hand to get down from Nole’s horse, and I took it without hesitation. Though I knew I should not care for Roland, it was impossible not to. He reminded me of my father: strong, protective, and above all, good. After all, most men didn’t help raise other men’s children without any type of obligation attached. I believed him to be an honorable man, just misguided. I was certain I could use his growing affection for me to secure my release.
I had to keep reminding myself that sharing information about me was about getting them to like me and not the other way around. I couldn’t allow myself to grow fond of them, no matter how clouded my feelings were becoming.
I dismounted the horse and walked to the water’s edge so that I could glimpse my reflection. The water was clear and calm but for a red kipper fish lazily skimming the pebbles along the water’s floor. My usually wavy hair hung bone straight, weighed down with a pound or more of dried mud. My tourmaline green eyes looked flat, and dark crescents sat below them. But my skin was intact—just like always. Granted, a touch paler than normal, even for me.
I wanted to jump head first into the water and wash away the layers of dirt and dried blood that had had taken up residence on my skin. How many days since I cleaned myself? Five? Six? The days seemed to run into one another like one big, long blur, no beginning and no end. Just one long, continuous, and utterly exhausting day.
Otis and James assembled logs and kindling on the pebbled shore next to the deep pool of crystal-clear water. Remmie knelt by the edge of the forest and dragged his fingers through the mud, painting his face with mud as if he meant to blend in with the dirt. He did this each time he went into the woods to hunt. Then he took a blade from his boot and sliced his palm, squeezing his hand until blood dripped from where he’d taken the mud.
“You look confused.” Roland made me jump. “I startled you.”
“I didn’t hear you coming.” I tore my gaze away from Remmie as he slung a quiver full of arrows over his shoulder. With a bow in his hand he hurried into the forest at a pace my eyes had difficulty following. He always brought food to the fire, and he always did so alone. “Why does he make himself bleed before hunting? And the mud? I don’t understand. I learned about savages…” I spun around to face Roland. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.”
Roland raised a hand and waved it through the air as if to brush off the offense. “We must give to get. We offer a piece of ourselves before taking from the land. The more we take without giving back, the more our strength fades.”
“Your kind takes from mine all the time and you don’t seem to be the weaker for it.” The words came out before I could stop them, and I wondered if he’d respond with anger. Perhaps the others might have, but not him. I couldn’t see him raising his hand to anyone.
“I am not my king. I pledged allegiance to the crown before he was crowned and I am a man of honor. A man of my word. I will serve him until I die. But don’t believe for a second that I support his choices or his tactics.”
“You say you’re a man of honor and yet you overpower and kidnap an innocent woman.”
Roland inhaled deeply and nodded before walking away from me. I’d pushed too hard. If only I’d shown some restraint. I needed his help and instead of getting him to talk to me and trust me, I’d forced him to clam up.
I sat on the damp grass alone, waiting for them to bind my hands and wrists like they did every time we stopped. I held up my arms to observe the damage the frequent binding had left on my wrists; they were pink and
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