The steady gaze on my back sets the hair on the back of my neck on end. I know without turning around that I will turn to find a pair of blazing green eyes glaring at me. I hold back a shudder at that thought and keep my eyes firmly on Ariella.
I will not give in to Robin Goodfellow.
I am Ash, former prince of the Winter Court. I have far more self-control than anyone in my former court has given me credit for. I will not give in to Robin Goodfellow. I will not give him the satisfaction that that would bring him, I will stay on guard all night. I will watch over Ariella as she sleeps by the warm fire. I will not give in to Robin Goodfellow.
I repeat this to myself as The Wolf's low grumbling becomes growling snores and Grimalkin makes himself visible before closing his eyes, resting his head on his paws, and giving in to sleep. I keep my mantra running as I listen for the tell-tale signs that the infamous Puck is asleep, but I hear nothing and the burning of his gaze has not lifted. I allow myself to sigh softly. No matter what I do, he will not let me be unless I allow him his confrontation with me.
I don't understand his sudden anger with me, though. My words had fallen empty when we found Ariella in the Briars. I sit there in thought as Puck finally makes a move, wrapping a thick vine around my wrists, tying them behind my back as he yanks on my hair, making me crane my neck to see his face above me. He's smiling and there's something dark in his eyes.
My heart thuds against my ribcage, faster than is usual. Something in the back of my mind recalls the look Robin Goodfellow is wearing from the Briars, the dark madness settled in his eyes. A part of me knows that he could have easily killed me the moment he knew I was deep in thought. Another part of me knows that Puck, the Puck, would never be so gracious to someone he intended to torture.
Puck's put a finger to his lips, still smiling, his eyes still gleaming with madness. I nod as best as I can with his hand still painfully tangled in my hair. He nods back, releasing his hold on my hair to grasp me by my elbows, lifting me from where I am sat on a log. I oblige him in his mad state of mind. I would've, could have, easily fought him off long ago, but the madness in him makes me submissive to his actions. I do not wish to die.
He leads me away from the camp and farther into the woods, farther down the River of Dreams. Farther into the Nightmares. I keep my eyes trained on where Puck has his hand on my left elbow. I know that if I look away I will see only the worst things to be imagined, things I do not wish to see. I keep my gaze steady until Puck has pulled me to a stop.
"As much as I would like to continue our journey as is, I must rest." Puck says, his voice so normal I nearly forget his madness until he's smirking at me in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. "Unfortunately, I cannot rest at ease knowing that you are armed and able to escape."
With that statement, he unties me briefly, still holding on to my left elbow, and pointedly looking at my sheathed sword. I swallow hard as I release both the weapon and sheath. A wave of heat is the next thing that I feel as glamour is used to put the sword somewhere I will not find it. I swallow again and another shiver runs through me. Robin Goodfellow has disarmed me and is the only one who knows the location of said weapon. A sword made especially for Prince Ash of the Winter Court, third son and heir to Queen Mab.
I do not remember when Puck bound my wrists again, but he did it far more firmly than he had before. I can barely twitch my fingers, and I know that was his intention. He doesn't want me to use glamour. My thoughts of fright, the very thought of being so defenseless and vulnerable, is ripped from my mind as I find myself falling to the ground, my back landing against a tree, a gasp of pain leaves me before I can stop it.
"Shush, now, princess. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you, wouldya?" Puck says with another alarming smirk.
I shake my head.
"Good." Puck says, kneeling before me. He leans forward slightly, something balled in his right hand. He's still smirking as he nicks my cheek with one of his daggers. I open my mouth before I can stop myself and apparently that's what he wanted because then he's stuffing something in my mouth to muffle my voice. I vaguely register it as some type of fur. Maybe from a fox, foxes seem fond of Robin Goodfellow, they would willingly give him some of their fur.
He's standing now, with more vines. I just watch as he starts to wrap it around my waist and the tree, binding me there. I am now very vulnerable. I have been disarmed, denied access to glamour, silenced, and bound. Robin Goodfellow is in total control of all that happens to me now, he knows this. It scares me, but if I had not submitted to him, he would've only killed me faster.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing that I did was open my eyes. I would've groaned at the pain in my neck from sleeping against a tree if it weren't for the hairball in my mouth. The fur, now thick with saliva, had slipped to the back of my throat. I would've gagged, but I couldn't. The stupid hairball was preventing me from doing anything.
I heard rustling from my far right and turned as well as I could with a crick in my neck. I couldn't see the beast yet, but I knew it wouldn't pass us by if it came out of hiding. I turned my head against the tree to look up, knowing Puck, that's where I would find him. I was in luck, or perhaps out of it, Puck had heard the noise, too. I don't know what that means for me.
Puck, shirtless and still mad, turns to face the noise, walking softly to the very tip of the tree limb he is perched on and crouching down, daggers at the ready. The fury in his eyes, the madness, increases while he watches the woods around us, hyper-aware. I take the moment to send respect to those who have expressed fear towards the Robin Goodfellow.
I know now that even though, Puck and Robin Goodfellow are one and the same, they are different. Puck is the trickster with a heart. Robin Goodfellow, the Robin Goodfellow, is a reckless force to be reckoned with. I shiver at my thoughts.
This is what fear is, I think to myself. The thought had crossed my mind. Of course, it had. Just because I am Fey doesn't mean that I don't recognize fear. I had never felt it before now, of course. I was a prince of the Unseelie Court, I had nothing to fear. Now, though, I had to fear Robin Goodfellow and fear for his sanity. Meghan Chase will not like an insane Puck as a friend.
Goodfellow has not dropped his stance, but I can no longer hear the rustling of another creature. The whole woods have fallen into silence. Silence is never good. If it weren't for my enhanced eye-sight, I might have missed the swift movements that Goodfellow did all together, dropping down from his branch and landing in front of me. His back is to me and I cannot see his face, but I can hear the low growling that he's making, the feral animal noises being ripped from his body.
His current stance throws me off. His body language is screaming "back off, it's mine." He is clearly trying to reign dominance over something that I can no longer hear, much less see. I don't understand the claim on me, though. Surely, if he was as mad as he appears to be, he'd let whatever it was take me, smirking as he walks away. But he's laid a claim, telling the other creature that I belong to him solely, and that he will fight for his property. What strikes me more is that thought alone. I am not property to be had, and if I was I would belong solely to Meghan Chase, not Robin Goodfellow.
Silence reigns once more, but Robin Goodfellow has not moved. He still stands with his back to me and I can see the tension in his back as he keeps his eyes trained on the trees around him. Fear is creeping into my spine again.
Slowly, Goodfellow comes up from his hunched position, rising to his full height. He takes a step back slowly, back still to me. If I wasn't Fey, I would have though that this meant the threat was gone. I can see it, though. The glowing sheen of green light outlining his body, I can feel the heat of his glamour as he calls it all to him. It's a beautiful sight. His entire body is haloed in ethereal green light and I can smell summer in the air. He turns to face me, green eyes blazing in the light. His face is peaceful, he's no longer snarling or scowling. I lose track of time in his eyes.
The light suddenly stops, as if it was just turned off. The threat has passed and Goodfellow is smirking at me now.