LOST
“It must be this way. It has to be.”
Chrissie gritted her teeth. She felt angry. At least, she was trying very hard to feel angry. It was so much better than being afraid. It was dark, though, and very easy to be afraid. She was lost on the moors at night.
If she listened, she could almost hear the howl of wolves.
“It's the wind,” she told herself firmly. “Just the wind. Don't be foolish, Chrissie. You're letting your imagination run wild.”
She shivered. The wolves might have been her imagination, she prayed they were, and certainly her horse, Princess, did not seem to smell anything. However, the cold was very real. It ate into her bones, making her feel slow and tired, her head pounding. Why did the cold make the head ache so? She shook her head, wishing she could clear it. The pain made it hard to remember.
“We went left when we passed the trees. So now we should go right. I know it...”
She sighed, looking around. It was too dark to see any landmark. She could not even make out the rise of the forest, which was so obvious in the daytime. She had no idea whether she faced towards it or away from it, or if the moors were all that stretched ahead of her, endless until the horizon.
Closing her eyes a moment, gritting her teeth to keep awake, she rode on. The cold was biting her, eating her fingers, making her so tired. So tired...
Princess stumbled, jerking Chrissie awake. She sat up quickly, shocked. Had she really slept? She shook herself. This was useless! She couldn't keep falling asleep.
“Come on, Princess. Let's go!”
A brisk canter – that was what they needed! To wake them up and make their blood warm again.
She leaned back, gritting her teeth as the canter jarred her bruised and aching spine. This was the way! She held on, trying to concentrate, trying to focus.
Suddenly, Princess jerked back, rearing. Chrissie screamed and slid backwards, falling. She hit her head and lay there, stunned.
“Princess?”
Chrissie's voice echoed in the silence. She was lying on the hard earth, the cold seeping into her as if she lay on the frozen surface of a river. The night was silent, only a few crickets calling from the trees.
“Princess?”
Chrissie sighed. She wanted to cry. She was lost, she was alone. She had no horse and no idea where she was. She was also cold and tired. She had long since ceased to be hungry, though her body was so weak she could not even crawl. Her head hurt. She was scared.
Her mind dwelled on the memories of the morning, on Blaine and the kiss. She thought of the sunshine then, and how happy she had been. She felt a kind of wistful nostalgia for that time, just a few short hours ago, when the present was so lovely and the future so enticing. She wanted to live.
“I really could die,” she said aloud. Above her, the dark sky shone with stars. They shone with cold silver light and had little comfort for her.
She lay on her side and wept. She tried to crawl, but her ankle was raw fire and she hissed in agony as her weight went onto it. There was no moving forward either. The ground was cold.
“Right,” she said, resigned. “Now I can't crawl, either.”
She lay down on her back, panting with the exertion, and looked up at the sky. A few moments later, she rolled over and tried again. This time, she contrived a push with her right foot, dragging her useless left leg behind. She strained, grunted, and then lay still again. What was she doing this for? She didn't even know which way to go!
“Can't...lie here,” she told herself, her head swimming with the cold and the tiredness, a strange fog blocking most of her thoughts. “Go in...trees. Shelter. Warm.”
She crawled forward. As she lay there, it had become apparent that the reason her horse had bolted was because they had reached a copse of trees.
Feeling her head pound with the cold and the exhaustion, Chrissie dragged herself into the shelter of the trees and lay there. She rolled onto her back and looked up at the needles of the pine trees, outlined with crisp starlight. It was slightly warmer here, the ground covered with a thin layer of leaves, and she tried to set her thoughts in order.
I am in the woods. I don't know where Princess is. I can't just stay here on the ground; I'll freeze or be eaten. But I cannot walk either. And I can't stand.
Chrissie bit her lip and forced herself to go forward. She could crawl. That was all she could do. She could at least crawl further into the forest, where she could be out of the freezing cold wind.
“Ugh,” she groaned, dragging herself forward on arms that ached and fingers that were too numb to feel. “Oof. Oh...”
She pulled herself onward. On and on. Her eyes closed and she forgot where she was, dozing and drifting in thoughts of sunshine and kisses and merriment. Nevertheless, she carried on forwards, clawing her way with fingers that curled uselessly in the frosty cold.
Light. It wavered before her, cool and insistent. Chrissie opened her eyes. The light was still there. It was cool, the color of lemons, a pale glow just filtered through the trees. However, it was light, nonetheless. She kept her eyes open, wriggling forward on her tummy, heedless of pine needles that pierced her cold flesh.
As she crept ahead, she thought she heard something. Voices. Human voices, talking in hushed tones. She tensed. Could it be someone who could help her? She felt like weeping with relief. She would have wept, but some instinct told her she should be quiet; at least until she knew what manner of person they were. She crawled forward on her belly, heading towards the wan light.
When she got close enough, she realized it was a campfire, about which sat four or five men, she couldn't quite see how many. They seemed to be soldiers.
Soldiers. In the woods an afternoon's ride from Lochlann. At night.
Chrissie instantly tensed, fearing she had got it badly wrong. Had she stumbled on the invading army Aili had warned them about? She strained to hear what the men were saying, but they were mumbling among themselves. One of them laughed.
Chrissie lay there, wondering what she should do. She could do one of two things. Either lie there, hoping some of the warmth would reach her and they wouldn't see her there, or go to them.
While she was deciding, one of the men stood up. He stretched.
“I'm goin' off tae leak.” He announced. They all laughed.
“Mind the bears dinnae eat ye, Keith.”
“Bears?” the man asked.
They all laughed.
“Go on wi' ye,” the first man said playfully. “Here. Take a wee brand if yer worried. Just dinnae set the woods on fire.”
He passed the man a brand, and then stoked the fire. The sparks flew and he poked it more vigorously, scattering the ashes. Chrissie prayed she wouldn't sneeze. She didn't.
The man who needed to leak, as he put it, set off. He chose a path that led almost directly past her. Chrissie lay still. She held her breath. Her heart was racing. This group could not be from Lochlann, or they would know there were no bears in this part of the woods. Chrissie lay there while the man stoked the fire and the other man walked past.
“Achoo!”
A man sneezed, and the man beside her jumped. Having been thrown off balance, he slipped and fell. On top of her.
Chrissie screamed.
“Wha...” the man shouted himself, then paused. “A lass!”
“No!” Chrissie sobbed. “No. Please!”
The man had grabbed her round the waist, and now he turned her over, staring into her face.
“By, she's bonny,” he said, slurring the words. His face was a picture of lust, and Chrissie felt her insides turn to water with sheer terror. It was such a look of threat that she wanted to run. She tried to run.
“No. Please. Help! Let me go...”
She struggled and almost got to her feet, but he was too strong and too heavy. She tried to stand and her ankle hurt so badly that she collapsed, hissing, tears streaking her face.
“Whoa, lass.” The man was still holding her, but he seemed more uncomfortable now.
“Please, let me go!” Chrissie said, her voice desperate. “I'm lost and hurt. Please don't hurt me.”
The man looked into her eyes. The lust was still there, and Chrissie despaired to see it. However, with it was something else. Shame and kindness.
“Come on, lass,” he whispered urgently. “Run.”
“Whist!” a voice called from the group. “What've you found? A lass?”
Chrissie's heart sank. Another man had appeared on the margin of the trees, bearing a brand like the one her companion held. He stared at her, as if to ask why she was not running, and made a shooing motion with his hands.
“Go. Go!”
“I can't!” Her ankle ached and there was no way she could put enough weight on it to walk, never mind run.
“Whoa, there, Keith!” the man whistled. “You got a beauty. Bring her here!”
“She cannae walk,” the man explained, looking desperate. “She's noble stock...say something!” he said to Chrissie urgently.
“Hello?” Chrissie said feeling suddenly stupid. Why had she chosen to say something so inanely polite in the middle of a dangerous situation?
“Ooh!” The man exclaimed. This man had a broad face, eyes wide and, if slightly brighter than the man who stumbled on her, then also slightly harder. Chrissie quailed. “Ooh! Keith. Dinnae keep this one for yersel'! You rude bastard. Bring her here so's we can all share.”
“No!” Chrissie screamed. She launched herself to her feet, groaning as her ankle creaked and sent a pain like a burn through her leg. She raised the foot and hopped three paces, then crashed down as she tripped. She screamed. She clawed her way along the ground. The man ran after her, grabbing the neck of her gown from behind, hauling her up with one hand.
“No!” Chrissie screamed again.
“No!” The man – Keith – said urgently. “Bruce, no. She's a noblewoman. Gently born. Perhaps she...perhaps she knows sommat, like.”
Chrissie looked at him gratefully. Her captor stared, eyes narrowing.
“Well, then,” he said, addressing her savior. “If she's a noblewoman, as you say, then let's find out what she knows. Up!”
He dragged Chrissie to her feet. She let out a scream as the weight went onto her broken ankle, and Keith protested.
“I'll carry her, sir. She's hurtin' sorely.”
The second man, evidently the boss, looked at him oddly. “Fine,” he said decidedly, stepping back so that Chrissie slumped suddenly, falling over again to sit on the pine needles.
“I'm sorry,” Keith whispered. Chrissie bit her lip.
“It's no' your fault.”
He looked miserable, shaking his head. His eyes were damp, Chrissie noticed, and she felt touched by his care. He lifted her up and he carried her towards the fire, behind her captor.
In the circle of soldiers, Chrissie looked blankly away into the forest. Opposite her, the leader settled himself on his haunches and stared at her.
“So,” he said quietly. “My man says you're a lady.” The men all chuckled and Chrissie winced. “Prove it.”
Chrissie swallowed. “I will, if you let me go.”
They all laughed.
“That depends on who you are. Tell me!” His face was suddenly inches from hers, his eyes narrow, the scent of his breath in her nostrils. Chrissie pulled back, feeling petrified. She closed her eyes, trying to think.
“I'm Chrissie Connolly,” she said at last, feeling desperate. She hoped that would either mean something to them – enough to keep her safe – or not. Which could, if they were enemies of Lochlann, be no bad thing.
The men began talking. Evidently there was some debate going on about what that meant and who she was. Chrissie strained to catch what was being said, but the dialect they spoke was slightly different to the one she was used to, and she had to try hard to understand it.
“...she's no' from the castle.”
“Whist, man! Course she is. Lochlann's her home. Sure it is.”
“Bruce's a fool. Should ask her...”
“Quiet!”
Bruce had evidently got some idea of what was being said, especially as it regarded himself, and he brought all their attention back on him where he sat at the end of the clearing, arms folded.
“Miss Connolly,” he said, making a parody of courtesy that made her cringe, “where do you come from? Tell us.”
“From the castle,” she said. She had no idea if that was the right answer or not, only that her protector seemed to think noble status could save her. She hoped so.
Everyone fell silent.
“You're certain of that?” the leader asked quietly.
Chrissie would have found that amusing had it not been quite so terrifying. Of course she knew where she came from! “Yes,” she said firmly.
“Well, then,” the man said, and he sounded almost disappointed. “That makes things different. You're coming with us.”
Chrissie stared at him. “What?” she asked. “No. Wait. Please! I don't understand...”However, they were already lifting her. Chrissie found herself thrown over the back of a horse, head dangling, a man mounted behind her. She screamed, struggled, and kicked, but the man slapped her, hard, and she lay silent.
As they set off through the forest, the embers smoldering behind, Chrissie closed her eyes and prayed. She was out of the cold, it was true, and she was going somewhere. However, she didn't know where.
As the ride began, jarring, jolting, and bumpy, Chrissie felt herself start to lose consciousness from the cold and the terror. Her last thought as she passed out was I wonder if Blaine will ever know what happened.
She prayed that he would.