I wait. My back tense and hunched while my decaying, yellow nails dig into the rich soil of the garden. The high grasses sway with the pure wind while the golden sun beats down on the array of colourful flowers. Flowers I once loved to smell, the scents sweet as honeysuckle and lovely as the entire of Surrey. The same flowers once adorned my silken, midnight curls now hung limp and dry in the tangling mess of black. I did not care. I did not care as I used to, in the days of life - when my only wish was to be free among the realms with my knight. My sickly sugary, repulsing, fairy tale knight. The days when my friends and I pranced from the safe realm of the garden through to the chilling reality of life in London, life as a woman.
I stopped caring the same day I came to accept the horrid beauty I now was. When I had moped around the crumbling castle wondering when dearest Felicity would arrive was then had I realized who I was becoming. A lost soul beginning to corrupt while her friends continued their lives, together. Gemma's heart was intent on a certain mysterious gypsy boy with coffee brown eyes and a sense of danger. The same boy who once gawked indulgently at my near naked figure. Felicity, single minded as ever, plotted her clever schemes without me. Strutting dangerously into society with no care as to what people thought. And Ann, dreary Ann, her passionate voice was soon to be ringing in the ears of the whole of London.
I decided I could no longer hold on to the past. I could only move forward and accept my fate as a creature of the realms. So I was no longer the pathetic princess trapped in the castle. I was Philippa - Pippa - Cross, wild and strong Warrior Queen.
The brown earth sticks under my nails and dirties the front of my torn dress. I draw two thick lines over the gaunt, pale skin of my face with the dirt on my finger. I'm alert and savage as a hyena. My opal, glassy eyes scan the green grass in search of a movement, a trace of life. I catch sight of brown fur rustling through a patch of white daisies. I pounce and grab hold of a dwarf rabbit. The useless creature kicks its feet franticly and I tighten my grip on its neck. The rabbit lets out a terrified, piercing scream that shudders down my spine and churns my stomach. In a second I break its neck with a sickening crack and throw the lifeless thing on the ground – no pity would ever stop me. I had no use for such animals, with little blood and bone, as Wendy's rabbit had only given me such limited magic.
I leave the garden, where only butterflies and rabbits reside and move into the fractured light of the forest. My steps are silent as I dart through the trees, keeping to the shadows. My corrupted heart beats erratically - I had come to love the inconsistent pattern – and my breath is jagged. I reach the untamed part of the woods where beasts roam freely and resume my crouched position. Nothing moved. I look up at the trees in search of a hamadryad, the nymph-like creatures that were bonded to the trees. I thought I could yank the tree from its roots or attempt to pry the woman from her eternal spot. There is no sign of one. However, the plan would surely have failed for hamadryads die the moment the tree does and the Winterlands' creatures wanted life.
Still looking up I see a large animal fly above the forest and off to the west. Fast as a cheetah, I am off. My new found agility pushes me forward through the forest and to a mountainous dry land I did not know existed. The earth here is baked golden like an Egyptian desert and the rough, parched land is sprinkled with a thin layer of sand. Off to the north I can just see the snowcapped mountains of the Winterlands.
Here, deep creases mark the hills and plateaus as though twisting rivers once ran like thick veins on the land. Ahead of me the great beast I saw earlier sits at the top of one of the mountains and I see it is a griffin. The chocolate brown animal has the body of a lion and red flecked wings of an eagle.
"Come here, poppet." I repeat the same phrase uttered continuously by the Poppy Warriors.
A wicked grin appears on my face as I think of what magic the griffin's blood will give me. What power. I decide to save the last of my magic for when I had to approach the animal and I begin my way towards and up the mountain.
The trek up the slope was not as difficult as I thought it would be. By the time I near reach the peak my hands are raw and slick with my magnificent, deep violet, corrupted blood. I crouch low and look down the way I just came. The route is steep and rocky, I have no idea how I will pull the griffin down with me. Hiding behind a black, leafless bush I look up to the beast. The griffin licks its feathers with a large, slimy tongue, oblivious to my existence. An idea pops into my head.
Carefully I straighten up and walk around the dead bush. The griffin looks at me perplexed, its great yellow eyes lock with mine and we are still. I expect it to either lash out or react tenderly. Slowly, I take a few steps towards it and hold out my hand. The griffin stands from its position among brambles and dried grass. He is level with my head but at least three times my mass. He sniffs me with his beak, approaches and begins to lick the back of my hand. The large tongue is prickly and wet on my thin layer of skin draped over tough bone. I break out into a trusting smile, baring my jagged teeth. I pet him on his smooth feathered head and he purrs in gratitude.
I take this opening of affection to subtly slide onto the griffin's sweaty fur back. He does not take off as I thought he would but instead sits back down while I remain impatiently perched on his back.
"Fly!" I urge.
The griffin turns his head up to me and licks my face. I cackle in amusement - what a strange animal – but return to my serious demeanor.
"Move!" I slap him harshly on his back as I would a horse back in London.
He lets out a loud screeching bird noise and flings me from him. I land painfully on my back as the griffin turns to me and raises his front legs to kick. I stand up quickly but he pushes me with his muscular lion's legs and I tumble down the mountain. I catch myself quickly, my face now scratched by the black bush I plowed through. In a state of fury I lunge at the animal who continues his irritated cries.
I pick up a stick from the ground and using what magic I have left fashion it into a sterling steel rope which flings from my hand and twists itself around the griffin's legs. In his moment of weakness I grab one of his wings and attempt to break the thick cartilage. The griffin writhes on the ground, his legs together, as I work at his bones.
Crunch!
His wing is now angular and useless. The large animal whimpers in pain but I laugh cruelly for I have won, as always. My feeling of elation and adrenaline lasts me down the mountain as I pull the beast behind me. Whenever he slides ahead, his eyes now puckered with dust, I am in the lead within seconds. At the bottom of the mountain I rest, panting but ecstasy still coursing through me and continue my pulling out of the desert realm, through the woods and to the Borderlands.
"Bessie! Mae!" I call when I reach the castle.
Instantly the two girls are at my side, marveling at the wounded animal.
"Wot a great brute you got there Queen Pippa!" Bessie whistles. "How d'you get 'er?"
"It's a him, Bessie. Griffin's are not like boats or ships. Know the sex before you call it." I correct her, shaking my head at her informality.
"Yes, Queen Pippa!" She chimes.
"And I obtained him through wit and strength. Now, go to the garden immediately, Mae, and fetch the brown rabbit I left there."
Mae nods and looks adoringly up at me.
"Now! We don't want the animal dying of hunger before he is needed."
She runs towards the garden.
"Bessie, you will be coming with me to the Winterlands to sacrifice this griffin."
"Really?!"
I nod curtly and Bessie helps me to give the griffin some water, who drinks thankfully before returning to his quiet whining. When Mae returns I give the dead rabbit to the griffin – his swollen eyes wide with fear as though he already knows the gruesome fate that awaits him. I no longer felt the heart wrenching sorrow that overcame me when I saw an animal in pain. The first time I cracked a whip over Wendy's pale, firm skin and saw the harsh, red marks forming like a weaving network of bare branches the pity died. Just like the old Pippa, buried deep down inside of me, tucked away in the darkest of corners where I would never find it again. I was addicted. To the control, to the reining power, and the sight of my handy work permanently etched into raw flesh and ancient land.
"Let's get going, Bessie," I say hurrying her away from the other factory girls who gaze wondrously at the animal and me.
"Yes, Queen Pippa," Bessie grabs the steel rope and pulls the griffin behind me on our way to the Winterlands.
We reach the large gate with rotting bones intertwined with teeth and hair. Bessie and I yank out a strand from each of our heads and add them to the mass of human and animal leftovers, a small tradition of ours whenever we entered the Winterlands. We make our way through the gate and enter the chilly, exhilarating land. In the distance I can see the black sand mountains dominating the sky as red as the brightest apple in the garden. The land is strangely empty, there was no sign of life save for the large footprints moving towards the path we were taking. We follow them until we reach the small boat by the river.
"Help me with this, Bessie," I say attempting to hoist the griffin into the boat.
The wood creaks as he is lowered uncomfortably into the rocking space. I take my place behind him, Bessie behind me, and the boat lurches to a start. Soon we are moving at high speed past the grim scenery and towards the Tree of All Souls. The wind whips my hair into curling wisps behind my head and I let out a howl of triumph that echoes through the swaying trees on the land. Hundreds of blue corpses twist and struggle at the sound of my cry, their white eyes focused intently on us as we move away.
The griffin's whimpers become sobs of desperation as we whip through a dark cave where the air is moist and smuggling. We burst from the tunnel and I can see our destination just ahead. The boat pulls to a stop and we clamber out, higher above I can hear the piercing screeches of Winterlands' creatures. I inspect the griffin, his ankles pink from the steel and eyes near shut with tears and dirt, but otherwise he is in good condition.
"Are you excited?" I ask Bessie.
Her eyes shine with amazement as she looks up to where the Tree of All Souls was just in view and she nods slowly.
Together we pull the griffin up and hide behind a large stone to see whether the fiends were ready for us. The scene was that from a terrifying nightmare, while a Borderlands creature I had seen wandering in the woods sacrificed a butterfly. He gives the delicate insect to today's leader. A tall, thick beast with almost blue-tinged eyes, who has two broad legs like those of a spider and long ocean blue hair with a feminine face. She takes butterfly and crushes it in her palm. The other creatures cackle as the guest cringes at the flash of fury in the leader's eyes.
"We need life, bring us something that is alive." She hisses and throws the Borderlands' creature away over our heads.
He lands with a painful thump behind us and we turn in time to see the petrified look in his eyes before he runs to the boat. Bessie giggles and I shush her before we stand up and approach the circle around the large tree.
"I have something I think you may like," I announce and twenty pairs of eyes turn to the captured animal blindly struggle against the rope.
"Yesss," the head of the group approaches.
She leans over the griffin and I can smell the absolute corruption on her. A putrid, magnificent scent I inhale willingly. She lifts the griffin's chin and erupts in a black-tooth grin.
"And you would both like magic?" She asks.
"No. Just me. I did the work to obtain this beast and I deserve the power." I state and Bessie's hopeful face falls.
"Very well," She ushers me before the tree. "Have you done this before?"
I nod and put my hand to the sacred bark. She steadies the griffin with an assuring hand and he immediately calms as she strokes the fur. The Winterlands' creatures ready themselves to obtain the rush of strong magic about to run through the tree and I shoot an angry look at them. This is my magic. The woman-like beast takes a sharp stone and lifts it above her head. There is a moment of complete stillness, the wind stops and the world is still. There is not a noise to be heard.
As if in slow motion, she brings the stone down upon the griffin's neck. His head is decapitated with a rush of bright red blood that seeps into the hungry roots. Then the scene is gone and I'm stunned by a glittering, white brightness. My spine curls and I feel weightless in the dazzling nothingness. Magic floods into me and I feel it gaining in my fingertips. I let go of the bark and am sucked back into the realms. I fall back in a gasp and see the tree growing above me. The other's hands are pressed to the tree and I grab Bessie and leave before they wake from their trances.
The wind has picked up and I look to the mountains as Bessie waits for the boat to return. The land is no longer huge and daunting but a savage home to me. It is mine. Every grain of sand, every twig and drop of water belong to me. The magic coursing through me is magic born from the land itself. I am unstoppable, beloved and hated. I am Queen of the Realms, warrior and leader to conquer all.
Tell me what you think!