Warning: Nothing has changed since chapter one. There will still be incest in this story, and the don't like, don't read rule still stands.
Chapter 3
The trip into town is a nerve-wracking one.
Elsa has no idea if there are any more of those things in the forest, but she's not about to take any chances after that last encounter, and thus she spends the majority of her time crouched close to the ground, eyes darting left and right, back and forth.
The wound from earlier has started to throb; the inside of her right wrist feels entirely too warm. But she can't do anything about it as it is now.
The forest along the road isn't dense by any means, but the trees are as much a hindrance to her as they are a cover.
She's constantly expecting another half-human (Elsa has given calling them any one thing) to jump out from behind the next tree.
But, against all odds, fear is her only companion during the trek to Arendelle.
When she spots the first house at the edge of the forest, Elsa breathes in deeply before rising from her crouched position behind the tree nearest to the house.
Her leg muscles almost sigh with relief at her once more upright position.
Anna.
The name flashes through her mind like lightning, and Elsa's heart clenches painfully at the reminder as a new wave of worry washes over her.
She needs to find Anna.
Now.
Before something bad can happen.
If it hasn't already.
Elsa pinches her upper arm through her shirt, twisting the skin there for good measure. She can't afford that kind of thinking now.
She needs to find Anna, but in order to do that she needs to locate her first.
Elsa fumbles around in her pocket for her phone, before the sting in her left cheek reminds her that she had been wearing her headpiece prior to the crash, meaning her phone had been in its holder rather than her pocket. She hadn't thought to retrieve it before her trek through the woods.
Actually, she hadn't thought to bring anything with her. Elsa wants to scream at herself for her stupidity as she realizes that her only possessions are the crumpled and blood-stained items of clothing that currently covers her body. A far cry from the ideal survival kit.
She's suddenly hit by the ridiculousness of her decision. She had stormed off with the intent of finding Anna, thinking it would be a matter of simply heading into town, fetching her and then backpedalling the way she came.
She hadn't spared one thought to the possibility that there might be more of those flesh-eating creatures littering the town. How would she defend herself against them with nothing but her bare hands? How would she travel across Arendelle without running into a whole group of them? How long would it take to reach Anna, and how would she get by until then? Hell, how would she get by after she found her (because she would)?
Steeling herself, Elsa fixes her gaze on the nearest house whose front faces the road leading into Arendelle. As far as she can tell there are only two shambling figures in sight, both facing away from her. If she's quiet, she can sneak around to the back of the house and enter unseen to search for a phone and whatever else that might prove useful.
She leaves her hiding place behind the wooden trunk, sprinting the short distance to the outer wall of the house. It's a good thing she decided to wear with sneakers for maximum comfort for the long car ride here; if not, she might possibly have tripped over that particular uneven patch of grass closest to the house.
She edges along the wall to the back of the house, relieved when she spots a back door and finds the backyard empty. Only when her hand grips the doorknob does she realize that the house might not be as desolate as its surroundings. She fights down the urge to flee, instead forcing her hand to press downward until the door opens outward with a small creak.
As she peers inside, Elsa thanks whatever Gods her ancestors might have worshipped for the door being unlocked as well as it still being daytime. The light filtering in through the windows enables her to make quick work of scanning the room which, much to her relief, turns out to be empty.
She locks the door behind her and steps forward into what can only be the kitchen. The floorboards creak, and Elsa's heartbeat spikes as she's reminded that she can't let her guard down before she's checked the rest of the house.
With this thought in mind, she pulls open one of the drawers and extracts a kitchen knife. It feels heavy and foreign in her hands the way she holds it; the blade pointing downward, ready to strike down foes rather than cut through meat.
Her heart feels as if it has fled her chest and sought refuge in her throat. It pounds away while she checks room after room.
Living room, clear.
Bathroom, clear.
Bedroom, clear.
Kid's room, clear.
She exhales deeply after the last room is found empty, a fraction of her tension exiting her body with the air leaving her lungs. She feels as though she has just run a marathon.
As her heartbeat slows slightly, Elsa is made aware of another pounding in her body. More specifically, the one coming from her wrist.
Now that she has the time to, she pulls up her sleeve to inspect the wound.
It consists of a pair of thin scratches, one longer than the other. The skin around it is colored an angry red, and there is fresh blood dripping from the biggest scratch while the blood from the smaller one has now dried. It doesn't look deep or in any way serious, but the throbbing tells another story.
The thing that scratched her, the one she killed... it had been quite dirty. Maybe the wound had already gotten infected.
Elsa rummages through the bathroom and living room in search of a first aid kit and some liquor. She only succeeds in procuring the liquor though, leading her to wonder what kind of sane family would choose not to have a first aid kit in their house. To make up for her lack of bandages, she finds a white tee which she cuts into strips.
The alcohol stings horribly (maybe she shouldn't have just poured it all over her arm like that), and tying the strips in place is a hard feat to manage with only one hand, but afterwards the throbbing has subsided enough for her to focus on her main objective: locating her sister.
Anna, her beloved little sister whom she had been forbidden from seeing for ten years. Elsa will never be able to forgive their father for separating them. He had used Anna as leverage against her, forcing her to make an impossible choice. Whenever she accused him of such, he had given her an unsympathetic look, telling her that she could see her sister whenever she pleased. If she stopped struggling, that was, and accepted her position as heir of the family business.
Even today the memories put a scowl on her face.
How could a man that had called himself a father, forced her into choosing between freedom and her sister?
The throbbing in her hand resumes as her rage builds. Elsa clenches her hands until her fingers leave crescent-shaped indents in her palms as she breathes in and out.
It works and her heart rate calms.
She heads into the bedroom where she'd spotted a telephone, knowing there is only one way to truly alleviate all her pent-up anger from the past thirteen years.
The telephone is an old model, but it's functional and that's all Elsa cares about. She picks up the receiver and dials the number to the Arendelle manor from memory. It has literally branded itself on the inside of her skull after so many years of dialing it, but never having the courage to press call.
At first there is only silence, but after a few seconds of waiting with bated breath, Elsa is rewarded with a series of noises in the background.
"Hello? Gerda? Kai? Can you hear me?"
There's a lull in the noise, followed by the sound of heavy breathing.
"Miss Elsa, is that you?" Kai's voice is hushed, afraid.
"Yes, yes, it's me. I'm at the edge of town-"
"Please, Miss Elsa, you have to leave," there's a crashing sound in the background. "Now!"
"No, wait, I need to-"
"You can still get away if you-"
"I need to find Anna," Elsa grounds out, desperation leaking into her voice. "Do you know where she is?"
"She-" more noises, this time louder. "Not here... Kristoff... far from... mountain... have to go-"
Half of Kai's sentence is lost in the sea of noises that have now grown too loud to ignore. A bloodcurdling scream sounds in the background (Elsa recognizes the vocal chords as belonging to Gerda), and Elsa barely catches Kai's exclamation of horror before the line goes dead.
Panic settles like lead in her stomach, her knees buckling as she drops to the floor.
"No. No, no, no, no."
She's shaking, hands curling into fists against the wooden floorboards. Her eyes grow uncomfortably warm and she clenches them tightly shut, knowing that she won't be able to quieten her sobs if she lets her tears escape their confines.
Kai and Gerda, the caring old couple who had been with her family for as long as she could remember. The ones who had cleaned her cuts and scrapes as a kid, who had sent her letters detailing Anna's adventures during her years of exile, who had comforted her at the news of her parents death and pleaded with her to return home with them...
An anguished sound escapes her lips, and Elsa bites down hard on the soft skin.
Quiet. She needs to be quiet.
A shadow flickers by in the doorway accompanied by the sound of footsteps. Elsa's breath hitches in her throat, and she fumbles for the kitchen knife that she had abandoned on the floor earlier. Her fingers are the first to come in contact with the blade, and she hisses quietly at the small cut, before finally getting a firm grip around the handle.
"Who's there?"
She hopes her voice sounds firmer than it does to her own ears. She doesn't move from her spot by the telephone at the opposite end of the room, eyes watching the door intently as her fingers tighten around the knife.
She watches with surprise as a head peeks forth from the other side of the door, before a small body follows it.
Before her stands a small girl, black hair pulled up in a high pony tail with the help of a pink bow and brown eyes peering intently at her from beneath her tussled bangs. Her teal-colored clothes have mud- and grass stains on them, and her leggings are torn at her knees.
Elsa's grip on the knife slackens a little, but it remains in place.
"Schweetz. Vanellope von Schweetz," the girl's voice only wavers a little despite her knees clacking together with her every tremble. "Who are you?"
If not for their situation, Elsa would have laughed at the comical sight of Vanellope crossing her arms and puffing out her cheeks in an attempt to look fierce; the result closely resembles that of an angry chipmunk.
"My name is Elsa."
She doesn't have any idea of what else to say. What do you say to someone, a kid especially, while the world you've known crumbles around you?
Why did it have to be a kid? She's not good with kids at all.
Silence reigns as Elsa tries (unsuccessfully) to think of something to say, and the raven-haired girl looks her up and down as if evaluating her. Finally, those brown eyes come to rest on the knife still clutched in her hand.
"Hm, I guess you'll do," the words are muttered, but Elsa hears them all the same after the long silence.
"Excuse me?"
Noticing that Vanellope is still eyeing the knife in her hand, she moves as if to put it down, but the girl immediately stops her.
"No, no! Keep it, we'll need it. Hopefully we won't, but you never know, it might come in handy. I've already planned out the route, we just need to-"
"Wait, slow down," Elsa holds up the hand that isn't clutching the knife. "What are you babbling on about? What route? And why are we going to need the knife?"
"Because of those walkers outside, duh," Vanellope's sassy remark is accompanied by a perfect eye roll. "And we're going to the ice cream store. I know this shortcut that will take us almost directly there. All we need is-"
"Shut up!"
Elsa doesn't realize how loud her exclamation had been before she sees the shocked expression on Vanellope's face. Like a kicked puppy, she notes with a wince.
Nope, definitely not good with kids.
"Sorry, just... slow down a little bit," her words are softly spoken, as if she's talking to a frightened animal. "Why do you need to go to the ice cream store, and why do you want me to accompany you?"
Surely the girl isn't expecting her to risk her life for the sake of a cone of ice.
"You could have just asked, geez," comes the feisty retort, effectively ruining the frightened animal analogy.
She leaves the doorway and takes three small steps into the room.
"Firstly, I need to go there because that's where my big brother works. Secondly, I'm not going there alone with all those undead things walking around outside. Thirdly, I'm a kid and you're an adult, so you have to be responsible and help me."
The raven-haired girl delivers the last sentence with a smirk, well aware that few adults can say no to helping a child in need.
Uneasiness fills Elsa's stomach, the sound of Gerda's bloodcurdling scream and Kai's horrified shout still fresh on her mind. She desperately needs to find Anna, and soon, before the unthinkable happens.
But then she looks into those brown eyes staring expectantly at her from across the room, and she realizes that the small girl is in much the same position as herself, except for their roles being reversed.
If Anna were in the same predicament, Elsa would want someone to help her if they were given the chance. She couldn't leave a little girl to fend for herself out here. But still, every second she spent not searching was another second she was delayed in finding Anna...
"Vanellope, I want to help you, I do, but-"
"But! That's what all adults say when they're about to say no. They sugarcoat it and try to spoon-feed it to you, but in the end they're still saying no," her small hands are balled up into fists and shaking, her eyes glistening. "You can't just leave me here!"
Elsa visibly flinches at girl's accusatory glare and shouted words.
"I'm not saying no," Elsa says hurriedly, the words almost tumbling out of her mouth faster than she can put them in order. "I have a sister too, but I don't know where she is, and I... I really need to find her."
"Oh," the look of anger and betrayal drops from Vanellope's face instantly, and she takes a few steps closer. "Why didn't you just say so!"
Elsa just lifts her right shoulder in a weak shrug. She's not exactly feeling all that clearheaded at the moment, and worry still gnaws away at her frayed emotions. By the look of it, Vanellope has yet to experience the full horror of the undead (as she had so called them).
"Well, Ralph – that's my brother's name, by the way – knows a lot of the people here. Mostly the ones who likes ice cream, but I mean, who doesn't like-" Elsa must have looked quite distressed, for one look at her has Vanellope back on track once more. "What I mean is, maybe he knows where she is, or maybe he can point you in the right direction."
"That would be great," Elsa gives a small, but unconvinced smile.
"And if he doesn't know anything, then maybe Kristoff can help. He works there too."
Not here... Kristoff... far from... mountain... have to go-
The words slice through Elsa's head like a sword, and her heartbeat instantly picks up its pace inside her chest.
Kristoff. Kai mentioned the name Kristoff. Wherever Anna is, it has something to do with that name and its owner.
"Wait, did you say-"
"What?"
"N-never mind. I'll take you."
"You will?" brown eyes stare at her with something akin to disbelief before it's overwritten with glee and relief. "Yes! Let's go!"
Elsa barely has time to register the warmth of the small hand that grips hers, before she is pulled from the room. Her mind is elsewhere.
Anna, I'm going to find you.
Wait for me.
Please.
Author's note: Sorry for the delay, school and work teamed up and decided to conspire against my free time together. I admit they're a force to be reckoned with.
Again, no beta, so the mistakes are entirely my own. I'd also like to thank you guys for the faves, follows and reviews. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside