A Promise Through The Bars: The First Series

by Lemon Leopard

Princess Snow White, a title dead to her, is imprisoned one fateful night. For twelve years, she struggles to survive in her cell, slowly losing her faith, her hope, and finally her will to live. Just as she is about to end it all, a woman named Sara is thrown into the cell near hers. Sara asks Snow White to do her a favor. A favor that may change everything.

12. Chapter 12 More Than Silver

Chapter 12 More than Silver

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It's dark. Something splashes on the center of my back and dribbles down my side—a sudden fire sweeps across my back and side! I cry out from the pain, contorting and writhing upon a cold, hard surface.

"Hold her down!" a woman says. Large, strong hands grab my wrists and ankles and pin me to the hard surface beneath my front—my naked front! I fight against the hands so that I can cover my nakedness, but they're too strong!

"Easy, lass," a man says beside my ear, his accent thick, his voice deep. "It'll be over soon." I stiffen instantly at the sound of his voice. I feel the weight of something draped over my hips and legs, but my back is exposed to the hot, sticky air of wherever I am. It's so dark!

"Eric?" I call out in the darkness, my voice hoarse. "Where am I?"

"Hymark…with the healer," he says, so close by, his earthy scent filling up my nose with my inhale. Hymark...Follow the road to Hymark, he said at the bridge. He squeezes my wrists, trying to reassure me…I think. "Ye made it," he says softly.

"I'm going to pull the arrowhead out now," the same woman says. Arrowhead…the arrow in me! Just help me through the pain, God.

"Prepare yerself," the hunter says beside my ear. Something squirms deep inside my back—sharp, stabbing, burning! A scream escapes me.

"It's almost out! Don't move!" the woman says. Squishing, squelching of flesh—my flesh! Waves of fiery stabs spasm throughout my back and side. Tears spring to my eyes. My heart tightens in my chest. Why can't I see!? I scrape my nails along the hard surface, needing something to hold onto. Something, anything! But what can I cling to?

"Wait!" the woman says, the pitch of her voice striking me with more fear—something twists inside me.

"NNRRAGH!" My back arches, trying to get me as far away from this torture as possible. A tear of flesh, sudden pain! I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands, drawing blood. Tears pour out of my eyes. Sweat drips down my face and back in rivulets.

"I've got it," the woman says.

"It's out," the hunter says beside my ear.

"I'll stitch her up," the woman says. "Geoffrey, dear, get me the stitches, needle—"

"—linens, basin, water. I know," another man says. The two hands pinning my ankles to the hard wood surface release me. Thump, thump, thump, thump, footsteps recede out of the room, whatever room I'm in.

"Try to rest, dear," the woman says, a smaller hand coming to rest on my bare shoulder. The two hands gripping my wrists let go. Eric's hands.

"Eric?" I ask, hardly believing any of this. I must be dreaming.

"Rest, lass. Ye earned it. I'll be back." His footsteps grow quieter as he leaves. The hinges of a door creak as he opens the door and closes it. A cold breeze moves over my bare back, causing me to shiver briefly before the warmth of the room surrounds me again. My brows furrow. I made it, he said. Did I really make it? The last thing I remember was darkness closing in around the bridge. I don't remember hitting the ground. The hunter said it would be a day more before we reached the nearest settlement that could offer me any help. That nearest settlement must have been Hymark. There's no way I would have made it from the bridge to the healer without someone carrying me for a whole day! Surely it couldn't have been the hunter. Surely…but that's not the most pressing thought at this moment.

"Why can't I see?" I ask anyone that will hear me and answer me.

The woman beside me laughs and pats my shoulder. "It's your hair," she says. My hair roots twist about as the black veil pulls away, revealing a burning fire in a stone hearth. I blink a few times and look about. I'm on a long wood table stuck in the middle of a small, sticky hot room with four walls and a floor made of dark wood logs. There's a half open door leading to another room to the right of the hearth and several shelves stocked with clay jars, poultices, and bowls of dried herbs to the left of the hearth. I glance up at the ceiling. Many drying herbs hang from the support beams—very much like the party streamers that would be strung up in the grand ballroom for celebrations fourteen years ago. I highly doubt any party streamers, let alone celebrations, have been hosted in the castle since Ravenna took control.

"Oooh!" the woman says, annoyed. I roll over onto my side slowly and carefully, concealing my breasts with my arm. My eyes fall on a young woman standing by the table holding my hair back, her hair and eyes as dark as mine—a Taboran native, unlike the hunter with his fair hair, light eyes, and strange accent.

She smiles down at me, her face kind and pretty. "While my husband takes his time getting what I need to close up your wound, let me find you some proper clothes." She lets go of my hair and walks towards the half open door. I watch her, her tattered blue dress hanging off her bony body. She stops suddenly before the door.

"Finally," she says and steps back, turning her side to me. I barely notice her husband step out of the back room.

"I'm not the one putting everything away!" he says cheekily. His banter with his wife goes over my head. I can't take my eyes from her huge, rounded belly. That's not fat from overeating, but rather full with a child! Her belly moves and presses against the man's flat stomach. I manage to tear my eyes from her stomach and look up at her face, watching her plant a featherlight kiss against her husband's stubbled cheek.

"I changed my mind. I want you to stitch her back together," the woman says and turns her head to look at me, smiling sweetly. "My husband here, Geoffrey"—she puts her hand on his arm—"is going stitch you back together instead while I go find you some clothes and fix you a good hot meal. He has a gentler touch than me. Are you alright with this?"

I glance at her husband, Geoffrey. He's a lanky man, but handsome enough with a pleasant face to look at.

I look back at the young woman and nod. "Yes, I'm fine with it." I force a small smile. "I look forward to that hot meal."

The woman's smile grows. "I'm sure you do." She turns and steps into the back room. "I'll be back!" she calls out from the back room. Geoffrey comes up to the table behind me, his eyes barely meeting mine. I twist my body just to keep him in my line of sight despite the calming effect his face has on me.

"Sit up," Geoffrey orders. I swallow, not wanting to put him out of my sight.

He glances at me, impatient. "Sit up so I can stitch your wound!"

I sigh. What choice do I have? He wouldn't dare to force himself on me, especially with his wife and unborn child in the next room…would he? I manage to sit up slowly, grimacing from the pain, my body trembling with weakness. I keep one arm about my small breasts and grip the edge of the table with my free hand, digging my fingernails into the abrasive wood.

Geoffrey scoops up my long hair and tosses it over my shoulder, my hair so long that a good foot of greasy, black tangles coil on the table beside me.

"I'll have to open your wound up some so that I can stitch inside first. This"—Geoffrey moves his hand into my sight, holding a bloody iron arrowhead and its splintered shaft in his palm—"pierced your kidney."

My brows furrow and I glance back at him. "My…kidney? What's that?"

He shrugs. "You actually have two kidneys. They are your organs that clean all the toxins out of your blood. The toxins come out of your body in your piss."

I grimace and look at the fire burning in the hearth. "Disgusting."

He sets the bloody arrowhead down on the table with a small clink. "We all do it."

"Mm." I shake my head, trying to forget the memory of the hunter relieving himself right in front of me that day he was inebriated. I am done thinking about the vulgar subject, but the hunter—Eric—takes the center of my thoughts. He couldn't have brought me here. He has been more than eager to leave me behind more times than I can count on both hands. Why would he not take the opportunity and leave me for dead at the bridge…unless he still has some plan to make a profit out of me just as he made a profit out of the poor dragon, or lamia, he called her…but I remember him splashing oulinder blood onto the dragon's chest without me saying a word.

"You'll be feeling a lot of pokes, but nothing more," Geoffrey says. A poke pierces deep inside my wound, or kidney, as he said. Poke. A twinge of annoyance fills me. How wonderful it would be to trust the hunter, to believe without a doubt that he brought me here of his own good will—poke—but Eric has given me more reason to not trust him than to trust him even with as little trust as I had chosen to give him. The memory of him offering his coat to me is burned into my mind, but now I am without his coat—poke—but Geoffrey's wife said she would get me some clothing, so perhaps that is the reason the hunter took his coat back? Poke. I can't help but wince. It is quite warm in here. If I was still wearing his coat, I would be awfully tempted to take it off despite my nakedness. I just cannot forget the way he stood there watching the dragon's lifeblood spill out of her chest like a merciless poacher eager to make a quick profit.

I wince from a particularly sharp poke. "How did I get here?" I ask myself.

"I'm sorry?" Geoffrey asks, poking me again with his damn needle!

I draw in a deep breath, cooling my temper enough to keep a level tone. "Who brought me here?"

"Uh…that huntsman did," he answers, sounding confused.

I frown. "I don't believe that. More likely, a kind stranger passed by me and brought me here. That hunter was only here because he happened to be passing through."

"Huh," Geoffrey scoffs, poking me again, making me flinch from the brief pain. "What is his name–Eric! Yes, Eric, the huntsman, he brought you here. He carried you all the way from the Nebulan Forest to our doorstep." Poke. My body flinches.

"Nebulan Forest?" I ask. "That dark forest, you mean?"

Geoffrey chuckles, delaying his poke. "It seems like everyone has taken to calling it that dark forest now. Ha, I guess it is now." Poke!

I clench my teeth and seethe. "Are you almost done!?"

Geoffrey laughs this time. "That was my last poke for your kidney, actually. Now you will feel a lot of poking in your skin, but nothing more, I promise you."

I let out a breath of relief. "That's good." A guilty pang enters my heart. I glance over my shoulder at Geoffrey, barely seeing his hands working behind my back. "I'm sorry for my anger with you. You're helping me and you deserve my gratitude and proper payment."

"That's kind of you to recognize that!" he says with a smile. "But you still deny that huntsman the proper thanks for bringing you here and saving your life." He lifts his gaze to me, a smug grin on his mouth. "You don't trust the man who saved your life?"

I shake my head and loosen my grip on the table, feeling a little more at ease. "Did that hunter, er, huntsman boast about saving my life several times? Three, four times perhaps?"

He laughs and looks down, his hands working behind my back. "No, he didn't tell me about that. All he told me was that he carried you here from the Nebulan Forest, or that dark forest"—he glances at me with amusement and looks down at his busy hands—"and that you both have a hellish four month journey to Hammond's fortress. Maker above!" He presses his hand into my back to the left of my wound and sticks me with the needle—a brief poke followed by the thread sliding through my skin painlessly.

"Four months?" I say to myself. I remember Duke Hammond, his Duchess and William spending months at a time with us, and their visits separated by months. Indeed, I would often hear how long of a journey it was from Hammond's fortress to papa's castle.

"You should trust the man, save yourself all the worry of distrust and doubt. Doing that will save countless years of your life," Geoffrey says.

I shake my head and return my eyes to the fire burning in the hearth, not really looking at it. "I can't trust him," I say. I wish to God I could, but to risk that betrayal is not worth it. I listen closely for Geoffrey's laugh…no laugh.

"You'll have a short life, then," he says, his tone flat, uncaring.

Annoyance gathers under my skin, making me burn more in this hot, sticky cabin. "Why is he so consequential to my life!? My life is—" I stop myself. Short already, but I can never confess this to anyone. It would do no good to inform anyone that out of my guilt for taking a dwarf's sight with Maacthis' evil, I gave the dwarf half of my years. I can say this instead. "My life is uncertain, especially with that–huntsman, but no matter how long our journey to Hammond's fortress is, he will remain as inconsequential to me as a stranger on the other side of the earth. I have no need nor desire to trust him. He is only a path to Hammond's fortress."

"That's your business," Geoffrey says, nonchalant. "I was only advising you out of concern for your health."

I sigh and shake my head. "If someone carried in that hunter's corpse right now, I would not shed a tear over him. I'd only despair because then I would have lost my only way to Hammond's."

"As I said, that's your business."

I open my mouth, ready to say something smart in response…I'm…there's nothing there. No words, no thoughts, just my guilt wringing what little goodness I do possess out of my heart for saying such heartless things. While it is true that I would not shed a tear if I saw the hunter dead, it's still so damn heartless to say and incredibly embarrassing too. I think my cheeks are flushed, but it's hard to tell with my fever and from the hot air. Light footsteps come into the room, drawing my eyes to the woman as she comes up to me, wearing that same sweet smile with a wood plate in one hand and a bundle of clothes beneath her arm.

"Here you are, dear," she says, offering me the plate. My eyes widen upon seeing it. My stomach grumbles painfully and spit floods the sides of my mouth. The plate is small, holding an even smaller bowl of steaming broth, a pathetically thin slice of bread, and a small clay cup of ale, but now I feel the pain of hunger! Anything will satisfy it now!

"Thank you!" I snatch the plate out of her hands, down the cup of ale in three gulps and set the cup down on the table. I finish the steaming broth in six gulps and drop the bowl back on the plate. I shove the whole slice of bread into my mouth, not bothering with the silly convention of chewing.

"Oh my!" the woman says. I glance at her, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging. The sudden heat of embarrassment makes itself palpable this time. I set the plate down on the table and wring my hands together, staring down at my lap.

"I'm sorry, how undignified of me," I say. God, I'm not sure how I can talk myself out of this disgraceful display. Here Geoffrey and his wife have been nothing but generous and caring, and I have yelled at Geoffrey, uttered such heartless things about that hunter, and now have grabbed the plate out of the woman's hands like some selfish…I'm not sure what.

"No, it's alright," the woman says, coming around the table and sitting on it beside me. She leans forward, her kind face coming into my peripheral. "Please don't be ashamed. I'm glad to see your appetite is back, actually! The man who brought you here, what was his name?"

"Eric," Geoffrey says.

"Yes, Eric! When he brought you here, he told us you hadn't eaten for the past few days. He suspected you passed out because of that."

Something tugs at my heart, pleading with me to at least lift my eyes enough to look at the sweet woman sitting beside me. So, I lift my heavy, shameful gaze to hers. "Did he…did he really bring me here?"

The woman's brows furrow, her kind smile lessening a little. "Yes. Yes, he did. Eric the huntsman brought you here. He carried you all the way from that dark forest!"

"Tsk," Geoffrey scoffs, but his wife and I ignore him.

I swallow hard. Hearing Geoffrey say that Eric brought me here was one thing, but hearing his wife say it…maybe he did bring me here on his own, but there's only one way to be certain. "The man who brought me here, was he as big as a bear? Did he have all these knives around his waist? Did he have menacing, twin hatchets on his back? Did he speak with an accent?"

The woman laughs and wraps an arm about her swollen belly. "YES! Yes, yes, and yes."

I just stare at her. That hunter…I breathe out, something in me breaking and giving way, exposing me more than my nakedness and deeper than the arrowhead had been buried inside me. Eric did bring me here. I cannot deny it anymore. He could have easily left me in that gulch of bones, yet he carried me here for a whole day. When he finally arrived here, no doubt exhausted, thirsty, and hungry, he did not boast of the other times he saved my life, but only revealed enough to Geoffrey and his wife so they could care for me. He did not complain. He did not boast. If he had, surely Geoffrey would have complained about it. He seems like the sort of man to mention such things.

"Where is Eric now? He was here earlier." I gesture to the closed door that leads outside, I think.

"He went off to the tavern just down the road," Geoffrey says, drawing my eyes to him. He points over his shoulder at the closed door and leans against the table. "He said he needed ale and a hot meal."

"Oh," I say, nodding a little. "Are you all done with stitching my wound?" I glance back at Geoffrey.

He nods once. "All done."

"Oh good." I give him an awkward smile and force it to stay, glancing at his wife while I push myself off the table and land on my feet. Thankfully, my boots are still on my feet and my old tattered dress is still fastened to my waist with my belt. "I should probably get going. Are those the clothes for me?" I gesture to the bundle of clothes tucked under her arm.

"Yes!" The woman takes the bundle out from under her arm and offers me the clothes. "It's one of my old wool dresses, stockings, a linen nightdress so the wool doesn't feel too itchy, and a coat, scarf, and gloves for this young winter. You can get dressed in our washroom there." The woman points to what I kept thinking of as the backroom.

My smile grows and I accept the bundle from her with my free arm, still keeping my other arm wrapped about my breasts. "Thank you. Thank you for everything. I"—I shake my head and close my eyes briefly, thinking of how to word this—"what's your name?" I ask, opening my eyes to see her.

She laughs with a closed mouth. "Eliza."

"Eliza," I say, a sweet feeling working its way into my smile. "That's a beautiful name."

She nods graciously. "Thank you. Go get dressed. There's a basin on the table next to the door that I filled with water. You can wash with that."

"Thank you." I smile briefly at Eliza and Geoffrey and duck into the little washroom, closing the door behind me gently.

Finally, I'm a little freer and safer! I drop my arm from my breasts, lean against the door, and let out a loud breath, basking in the space I have to myself for the moment. I breathe in and out more evenly while I look about the small washroom. It's not much. There's a tub for washing, a chamberpot in the corner, and a small table. Just as Eliza said, there's a wash basin full with water on the table.

I creep towards the table and set my bundle of clothes in the back corner. My clothes. A small smile spreads my lips as my heart swells. Yet another gift that has been given to me. For fourteen years, I haven't had such a wonderful lineup of gifts! First, Eric's skin, and now Eliza's old clothes. My smile grows while I hold my face over the basin and dip my hands into the water, the water dry. My smile drops. Even in this little cabin miles away from Ravenna, her presence is still here in this dry water. She has changed so much of this land, drained it of life. There was a time I could not bring myself to believe she was capable of doing such a thing, but after hearing of all the innocents she has slaughtered…I splash some water onto my face, trying to push the thought out of my mind.

A pang of sickness appears in my gut, halting me. Something's missing from me. My eyes widen. Oh God! I pat at my neck and chest for Sara's ring, finding nothing but my cold, clammy skin!

"Oh God no!" Her ring's missing! How could it be missing!? My body tenses, filling me with nauseating energy. "It must be in here!" I drop to my hands and knees and pat about the floor, picking up splinters in my legs and palms. I wince and whimper from all the tiny pinpricks of the splinters, but I crawl all over the tiny room, looking under the tub, the table, the shelves! I spring to my feet and rummage through all the linens and ceramic pots on the shelves. Not here!

"Oh God!" My sight blurs with stinging tears. I drop to the floor again and pat about, ignoring all the splinters I pick up while I run my fingertips from corner to corner, hoping that I might bump my fingers into the cold silver ring. Nothing! "Damn it! DAMN IT!" I sob and dress quickly, discarding my old rags and not bothering to pull any of the strings to my nightdress and dress nor fasten my coat.

"How could I lose it!?" How!? HOW!? I had it about my neck to keep it safe! Did someone take it!? Why would someone take it!? Perhaps Eliza and Geoffrey can help me! Perhaps they know where Sara's ring is! Surely they must have seen it when Eric brought me here…unless Eric took it from me and gave it to Eliza and Geoffrey as payment for their services. They haven't asked me for payment, so Eric has given them some kind of payment, and coincidence or not, Sara's ring is missing! Instant fury swells my chest, my heart pounding, my blood boiling! I throw the scarf around my neck, tuck my gloves into my belt, and bolt out of the washroom.

"Oh my!" Eliza startles and turns to face me, my sight too blurry to see her expression. "What's wrong!?" she asks.

I lift my teary, burning eyes to Geoffrey. "Where is her ring!?" I say, tears and rage shaking my voice.

"Her ring!?" Geoffrey asks, surprise in his voice.

"Yes! Her ring, Sara's ring!" God, it's hot in here! "I had her ring about my neck and now it's missing! Did you take it!?"

Geoffrey steps in front of his wife. "Calm down, woman. Your traveling companion gave us that ring as payment for our services."

"WHAT!?" I'm...still taken aback even though I suspected it. "That greedy bastard! That's not his ring to pawn off! It's Sara's ring!"

"What on Maker's earth are you talking about!?" Geoffrey asks. "Who's Sara!?"

I draw in fast, shaky breaths, trying to calm myself. "I'm sorry. You don't deserve my anger, but you don't understand how important her ring is! Sara asked me to return her ring to her husband just before she died! I"—I choke on a sob—"I can't fail her! I need to deliver her ring to her husband! She asked me to do it!" I clutch at my chest, my heart feeling like it was torn out. I break down and stumble back until my back hits the wall. I turn away from Eliza and Geoffrey and bury my face in the bend of my arm, sobbing loudly despite my attempt to keep my grief quiet.

Geoffrey groans in frustration. "Woman, if you can bring us some other payment sufficient for the services we have provided you, then we will give you back Sara's ring."

Hope wells in my aching heart. I scrub my tears away as best as I can and look back at Geoffrey's blurry form. "Truly?" I ask, my voice hoarse from my sobbing. "If I find some other way to pay you, you'll give me Sara's ring back?"

"The payment must be sufficient for our services rendered to you!" Geoffrey reminds me sternly.

"Of course, of course!" I nod fervently, turning around and starting for the door that leads outside. "I must go find that hunter! He has lamia bones! Will one of those be sufficient!?" I stop at the door, my hand gripping the handle tightly.

"Lamia bones!?" Eliza asks with excitement, stepping around her husband. "Yes, that's perfect! They have amazing medicinal properties! Just one of those will be more than sufficient payment for our services!"

"Wonderful!" I can't help but grin, feeling an overwhelming amount of hope. "Where did you say the hunter went to again? I must go to him right away before he pawns off all his lamia bones."

"He went to the tavern called the Bannered Mare just down the road. That way." Geoffrey points at the door. "Just go straight down the road. It'll be on your right. You'd have to be blind as a drunk troll to miss it." He bursts into sudden laughter.

I laugh nervously with him, not sure what he's laughing about, but that hardly matters. I pull the door open to the heavy grey clouds of day. Bitter cold air wafts into the small cabin, the cold biting my face and hands. Is it morning, afternoon, or evening? That hunter said it would take a day to reach the healer, so I assume this is day seven, but there's no telling how long we've squandered here. I must hurry! The hunter said that it will take Finn at least five days to recover from the black blight shrooms and return to Ravenna to gather another search party and come after me, but we have spent nearly a week pushing our way through that dark forest just to get here! With Ravenna's powers, that is more than enough time for Finn to catch up to us. So, I can only assume that Finn and his search party are on their way.

I step outside into the icy cold and look back at Eliza and Geoffrey, Eliza's hands on her swollen belly. "I'll be back!" I call to them.

"Alright, dear, please be careful!" Eliza says.

I nod. "I will, thank you!"

I push the door shut and look about. Buildings line both sides of the muddy road, the crumbling grey stone and rotting wood just remnants of the architectural beauty this town once possessed. Faint creaking draws my eyes down the road. A big sign sways on its chain link hinges, attached to a tall building with two levels. Rotting wood beams run obliquely on the outer stone walls for support, but they fail miserably. Pieces of cobblestone lie all around the building. I lower my gaze to the weathered sign creaking back and forth on its chain link hinges, a faded black horse on it. That must be the Bannered Mare that Geoffrey told me about.

I start towards it, passing by people along the way. Some of the younger men stare at me as I pass by. I will myself to ignore them.

Sweet, cheerful giggling carries in the wind, coming from the other side of the street. I look across the street to an alleyway between two buildings. Two little boys burst out of the dark alleyway wielding long crooked sticks, striking them together like they are dueling. They leap off the walkway into the muddy street and race toward the middle of the street where it dips into a slight trench. One of the boys hops over the small trench, as if leaping over a chasm, and lands safely on the other side. He spins on his heels and strikes the other boy's stick – clack!

I slow in my steps and stop to watch the two little boys play. Their laughter, their happiness—it's a stark contrast to the grey atmosphere and the crumbling buildings around them. Warmth fills my heart while a small smile spreads my lips. How precious it is to see—a muffled crashing interrupts my reverie. The distant, excited shouts of men erupt in whatever building they are in. The boys stop dueling and look back at the source of the commotion. All the people around me slow to a stop and look. I follow their gazes to the source of the raucous—the Bannered Mare! The hunter is in there! My heart starts racing. What is going on in there!? Muffled yelling comes from inside the tavern, their words incoherent but their anger clear. Oh God.

The tavern door bursts open and crashes into the cobblestone wall. A hulking man staggers out into the street and sways about to face the tavern. My heart drops.

The man throws his arms up, swaying back and forth on his unsteady feet the same exact way he staggered about in that dark forest. "Com'on, tha's nae way to treat yer patron!"

"Eric, you idiot," I say under my breath. Somehow, he has managed to lose most of his clothes save for his untucked wool shirt, his trousers, and his boots.

Another man charges out of the tavern, his fat face beet-red, and marches right up to the huntsman. "Give me my coin, you no good thief, or I'll get my boys to hold you down while I castrate you and feed your bollocks to my dogs!"

My stomach churns at the angry man's threat. A crowd of men starts gathering about the hunter and the angry man.

The hunter guffaws and holds his arms out wide as if to embrace the angry man. "I'm a mount'in man, ye arse! I'm stronger than ten of ye lowlanders put togeth'r! Gimme back my thin's and ye can keep yer bollocks!" The hunter laughs at who I presume to be the tavern keeper judging by the yellowed apron he's wearing.

The tavern keeper's beet-red fat face twists into hideous rage! "YOU FUCKING THIEF!" He charges at the hunter, his fist ready to punch Eric! A half scream escapes me, but the hunter ducks beneath the tavern keeper's flying fist. The tavern keeper nearly slips in the mud, but he manages to regain his footing. My eyes flit to the hunter, watching him as he laughs and sways about, his arms still wide open, exposing his throat, chest, and stomach to the tavern keeper.

"C'mon!" the hunter taunts with a smug, drunken grin. "Try again!"

The tavern keeper yells and takes another swing at the hunter. Eric skips back, dodging his swing with drunken grace—if such a thing exists. The crowd that has gathered about the brawling pair hoots and chants, practically leaning in begging for more action from the hunter.

Eric looks about the crowd surrounding him, his smug grin more than telling that he is enjoying all this attention. He leans towards the seething tavern keeper and mouths something too quiet for me to hear over the chanting and cheering from the crowd. Whatever he said, the tavern keeper roars and lunges at him! The hunter sidesteps, letting the tavern keeper charge right into the crowd! The crowd catches the tavern keeper and erupts with roaring cheers, clapping, chanting, praising and slapping Eric on the back. Eric's grin reaches his ears, reveling in all this foolish praise and attention. He holds his arms up in triumph and turns about, taking in his apparent victory without taking one swing himself. His eyes suddenly cross mine, and he stops cold, his grin slowly shrinking.

I scowl at him and silently mouth "You idiot!" to him.

He raises his brows at me and laughs, shrugging nonchalantly amidst the cheering crowd. Movement draws my eyes to the back of the crowd. My eyes widen and my heart thrums like a hummingbird's wings. Three burly men push their way through the crowd, their eyes fixed on the hunter!

"Behind you!" I yell, hoping to warn him. His laughter dies and he starts turning around, but two of the men toss a rope about his neck and pull the loop tight, strangling him!

"NO!" I say, my feet running me towards the fight before I make the conscious choice to intervene. God, what am I going to do when I get there!? The crowd roars with excitement, no longer praising the hunter, but cheering on the three men who stepped into the fight.

The hunter chokes and turns to the men, not bothering to grab the rope cutting into his throat. He takes a swing at one of them, landing a punch square in the man's jaw. The man goes staggering, his hands slipping from one end of the rope, but the third man sneaks up behind Eric and throws another rope about his throat, pulling it taut!

I reach the back of the crowd, the men so tall that the hunter and his attackers disappear from my line of sight! "MOVE!" I yell, pushing my way through the crowd.

"Ah!" one man complains as I push past him.

"Crazy wench!" another says as I squeeze between him and another man. I push past shoulders and wriggle between arms until I finally burst out into the open, my eyes falling upon the two men strangling the hunter, the hunter's face turning blue!

"I'm going to cut off your bollocks!" the tavern keeper says, breaking out of the crowd and marching towards the choking hunter. "Then I'll kill you!"

The third man who Eric had punched comes up behind the hunter and yanks down his trousers, his trousers bunching at his knees! My blood turns hot and runs cold at the same time. I try not to look, but my eyes are briefly drawn to his muscular tan thighs. A strong, terrible stirring awakens in my loins. I will myself to ignore the immoral feeling and force my eyes to the tavern keeper. He draws a butcher knife from out of his dirty apron, his eyes fixed upon Eric's long shirt barely hiding nakedness!

"DON'T!" I run between Eric and the tavern keeper. The tavern keeper stops in his tracks, his hideous eyes widening with surprise.

"Who the hell are you!?" he says. "What do you– ah, never mind! Get out of here!" He waves me off with his knife.

"No, please, you don't have to do this!" I hold my hands out in supplication, putting my fingertips within an inch of the tavern keeper's scuffed blade.

"Ah, get out of here, woman!" a man from the hooting crowd shouts.

"Yeah, get outta here!"

"Yeah!"

"YEAH!"

The tavern keeper's hideous eyes darken. "You heard them. Get out of here, or I'll go through you to get to him!"

A chill goes down my spine. My heart hammers my ribs and sternum. Despite the young winter cold, sweat drips down my forehead. I dare a glance back at the hunter. The ropes about his throat have loosened enough to allow him to breathe and regain some color to his face. His eyes glow like blue orbs against the mud smeared on his cheeks. He…he has blue eyes. What an odd thought to fixate upon.

"No." I look back at the tavern keeper. "You don't have to cut through me nor castrate and kill him. I…I can pay you for whatever he stole with…with lamia bones!" I cringe. The hunter will not be happy with this.

"What!?" the hunter chokes out, his voice strangled. Just as I anticipated.

The tavern keeper's eyes widen, his fury softening to anger. "Lamia bones!?" he mocks. "How have you come to possess lamia bones!?"

"Stay away from my thin's!" the hunter says.

"Check his bags!" I plead with the tavern keeper. "You'll find the bones! Take what you want, but spare him!"

"DAMN IT, LASS!" Eric curses, making me flinch, but I keep my eyes on the tavern keeper.

The tavern keeper's fat, beet-red face shifts suddenly and he laughs. "Sounds like your lover here would rather die than give up his imaginary lamia bones!" He grins, a sickening, wicked gleam in his black eyes. "You poor, neglected wench. I'll spare your lover's life and his pathetic bits…" he takes a step towards me, drawing too close, and grabs a handful of my hair "…if you let me have a night with you." He leans in, putting his face within inches of mine, his stinking breath filling up my nose and lungs! Nausea churns my stomach. "I can fuck you far better than that dog ever could," he says just loud enough for me to hear over the roaring crowd.

The small meal Eliza fed me almost comes up and scorches my throat, but I manage to gulp it back down, the burning aftertaste lingering in the back of my mouth. The horrible image of my bony body entwined with this grisly tavern keeper plagues my mind, his yellowed fingernails slicing my skin and drawing blood. There would be no pleasure for me, but only pain and humiliation while I lose what little dignity I have to this sick, twisted man! But if I back out of this deal, the hunter will die. Then I will have no other way to Hammond's fortress! Without the hunter, Greta dies, and Sara's death will be for nothing.

"Please just check his bags!" I plead as calmly as I can with the tavern keeper. "Just check his bags and you will find the bones! Take them all and let us go in peace."

The tavern keeper slowly lets go of my hair, his anger lessening. "Don!" he orders. "Go inside and check the lout's bags!" One of the three men that had strangled Eric marches past us and goes into the tavern.

The tavern keeper grins wickedly at me. "If my boy finds those lamia bones, I'll let you both go. If he comes out empty handed, my offer to fuck you in exchange for your lover's life still stands."

I swallow hard, fighting to keep my meager meal down. Should I correct him on my relationship to the hunter—if I even have one—or would it be better to continue letting him think that we're lovers? I dare another bold look at Eric, the ropes still wrapped about his throat and his trousers still down about his knees. He stares at me, his blue eyes full of drunken bewilderment.

"It's true!" a man yells from within the tavern, pulling my eyes to the tavern door. The man that the tavern keeper had sent in, Don, comes staggering out of the tavern with wide eyes, holding the hunter's rucksack in one hand and something clenched in his other fist.

The tavern keeper looks at Don as Don comes up to him. "It's true," Don breathes, his eyes twinkling with greed. "Look!" He opens up his clenched fist, revealing a handful of the dragon's toe bones. I glance at the tavern keeper, watching his eyes grow wide with disbelief. Should I feel relief about this or not?

"I don't believe it," the tavern keeper says. He scoops up the bones out of Don's hand and tightens his fist about them, scraping them as he rubs them together.

Whispers start among the crowd surrounding us. "He brought down a lamia!" one man exclaims softly.

"No, he couldn't have," another mutters.

"How else could he have gotten those bones!?" another questions.

"I've never met a man who survived a fight with a lamia and came out victorious!" The crowd starts chattering with excitement, most, if not all, convinced of the hunter killing the lamia. I glance back at Eric. Some of the men from the crowd come up and slap his back again with praise, awe and fear of him in their eyes.

"Fine, milady," the tavern keeper mocks, pulling my eyes to him. A wicked grin is on his chapped, bloated lips. "I'll let you both leave in peace, but"—his smile twists into a hideous sneer—"if I ever see that dog of yours again, I'll cut off his bollocks and feed them to my dogs!"

I wince as Don steps out of the tavern again with a large bundle of Eric's possessions and throws them down at my feet, kicking up the mud in the street onto me. I look down at my new blue dress and brown oxen coat, my heart sinking at the sight of the fresh mud spots staining my new clothes. I look up at Don and frown at him as the two other men who had attacked Eric walk past me and go into the tavern. These clothes were brand new, a gift, and how quickly I got them ruined.

The tavern keeper turns sharply and marches inside the Bannered Mare with Don, wrenching the door shut behind him. SLAM! God, there's no doubt that he will keep his threat if he lays eyes on the hunter again, but did he take all of Eric's lamia bones!? Urgency fills me. I glance back at Eric briefly to check on him. He pulls the ropes from his throat, throws them down into the mud, and pulls up his trousers, his burning eyes glaring at the crowd about us that has grown eerily silent.

"What're ye looking at!?" the hunter snarls like a feral animal, lacing up his trousers. "GET OUTTA HERE!" He starts towards one of the smaller men.

The smaller man stumbles back into another man behind him and holds his hands up, shaking in his boots. "I'm sorry! I'm leaving!"

I look about me, watching as the crowd of the hunter's admirers begin to thin and disperse. The hunter turns to face me, his eyes still burning with drunken anger.

I frown at him. "You treat those who love you horribly."

The hunter raises his brows. "Really? I huvnae noticed! I'll be kind next time!" He rolls his eyes at me and staggers over to a trough filled with dirty water for horses to drink, passing me by. The strong stench of ale wafts off him, invading my nose and mouth, making me gag! The hunter laughs and drops to his knees before the trough. He leans heavily over the trough's edge and dips his hand into its muddy water, splashing his face and scrubbing his beard. I grimace at him, my patience with him running thin. He's a filthy, disgusting man!

"You realize horses drink out of that water?" I ask him, my mockery and impatience slipping into my words. I pray Don left at least one lamia bone in the hunter's rucksack.

He growls and folds his arms on the trough's edge. "I know that," he grumbles under his breath.

I shake my head, becoming acutely aware of how little time I have left to get ahold of one lamia bone. "I need one of your lamia bones," I say as calmly as I can.

The hunter bursts out laughing and pushes himself off the trough's edge to his feet. "That bastard took all my bones!" He staggers over to his mud soaked possessions and fishes his vest out of the mess. "Thanks to ye," he mutters between his teeth.

Hot anger fills me. "I saved your life!" I march right up to him as he puts his arms through the proper holes of his vest. "I've thanked you after you berated me for withholding my gratitude, so the least you can do is not be a damn hypocrite and show me the same courtesy!"

"Agh!" The hunter casts me an annoyed glare and bends over to dig through his muddy belongings, showing me his backside. Oh, how I want to kick his arse, but I refrain.

I bite my tongue to keep from saying something smart. "Geoffrey and Eliza told me that you gave them my ring as payment for their services." I know it's not my ring, but it may as well be my ring as far as he is concerned. "You had no right to do that!—"

"It's just a piece of silver!" He stands up abruptly, fastening the ties of his leather bracers to his forearms.

My eyes widen, his words piercing my heart through. "Just a piece of silver?" I breathe, stunned. "You don't understand." I shake my head, fury waking me up. "You don't understand! It may just be a piece of tarnished silver to you. The skin that you gave me may just be a piece of dried goat hide to you, but both mean so much more to me than what they are, especially my ring! You pawned off my ring without even thinking to ask me! You've seen me clinging to that ring like it is my own life! You know how much that ring means to me, and you pawned it off!"

His brows furrow. "It's just a bloody ring!"

I scream in his face, my frustration and rage breaking out of me briefly. I suck in a deep breath, trying to soothe my buzzing nerves. The desire, no, the urge to lash out at him starts brimming over my heart. Oh, how I want to hate him! How—I grit my teeth and tense my whole body—I cannot let Maacthis' evil consume me. No matter how much I want to, I cannot hate this man.

"Please," I plead softly, my nerves a little calmer. "I need to get that ring back. Eliza and Geoffrey said they would accept one lamia bone in exchange for the ring. Are you sure Don took all of your lamia bones? Check your pack! He may have missed—"

"All eight were in his hand!" he snaps, throwing his arms up. "He took them all." He drops his arms and shakes his head at me. "Jus' forget it. Yer dearest friend's husband is dead, and ye cannae take a damn thing with ye when ye die, so save yer time and forget about the stupid ring." He stoops low, picks up his coat, and shoves his fists through the sleeves.

"No, I won't forget it. You wronged me. The least you can do is help me get back one of those bones so that I can give it to Eliza and Geoffrey in exchange—"

"Did ye no' hear that bastard!?" He straightens his back, tossing his rucksack and satchel over his shoulder. "If he sees me again, he's gonna cut off my manhood, and I'm no' becomin' a eunuch just so ye can have yer ring back!"

My small hope of getting Sara's ring back is dashed against the crumbling cobblestone of the tavern. What am I going to do? I need to get her ring back and my only help is unwilling to help me!

"Let's go," he says, turning and starting down the road away from Eliza and Geoffrey's cabin!

My heart beats harder. "Go!? We can't go anywhere yet!"

The hunter stops and turns back, his cold eyes crossing mine. "I'm getting out of here, and yer comin' with!" He captures my wrist in his overly strong grip, cutting off the blood flow to my hand! He turns about and trudges forward, dragging me with him!

"No!" I dig my heels into the muddy road. "We're not leaving yet!" My words fall on deaf ears as he pulls me along effortlessly, as if I am nothing more than another pack of his. I pull back as hard as I can, but his grip only tightens about me like a snake. We are getting farther away from the tavern, farther away from Sara's ring!

"Let me go!" I demand. "Let me go, now!"

He casts a nasty scowl my way. "Shut up!" He quickens his steps towards the gate.

Blasted, stubborn bastard! We cannot leave without Sara's ring no matter what! Despite the muddy street and my relatively clean new clothes, I drop to my knees, becoming as much dead weight as possible. The hunter takes a few more effortless steps, the cold mud soaking through my dress and nightdress to get to my skin.

He growls and turns to me. "What th'hell is wrong with ye!? The longer we doddle here, the closer Finn gets! We have to keep movin'!"

His words almost shakes my resolve. Almost. I cannot abandon Sara's ring here! I cannot turn my back on the favor she asked of me! Not after everything she had given me…not after everything she had given up for me to be here now.

"If you help me get back just one lamia bone, we'll be out of here before nightfall!" I rise to my feet, the mud falling off my dress in globs. "Listen to me, please! I just need one lamia bone!" I try pulling my wrist out of his grasp, but he still holds me captive. "Will you at least consider a plan where the tavern keeper won't lay eyes on you nor know of your involvement in this scheme?"

He shakes his head, his scowl etched into his features. "We made a deal! I get ye to Hammond's alive in exchange for fifty gold pieces and a young horse with all her tack! The longer we stay here, the closer Finn gets!" He turns and starts dragging me along!

"The deal is off if you take one more step!" I say.

He halts instantly. My heart lifts a little. Perhaps that worked?

He chuckles wickedly, his shoulders shaking, and he looks back at me, his eyes dark with mockery. "Yer damn persistent and a growin' thorn in my arse, I'll give ye that." He turns to me and releases my wrist. "But what gives ye hope that ye'll change my mind? Ye have no power o'er me."

I furrow my brows at him. I said almost the same exact thing to Finn. "You could have left me in that dark forest to my death, but you didn't. You could have snapped my neck or lopped off my head at any moment, but you didn't. You could kill me now…but you won't. You could have left me at the bridge…" God, part of me still doesn't believe this "…but you carried me all the way here. I'd like to think that you have some goodness left in your jaded heart, especially now."

I look up into the hunter's hard, icy gaze. His eyes shift back and forth in mine, scrutinizing me, thinking only what he and God knows. God above, please let my words sway him. They are not rational words, but words of feeling. What a risky limb I have stepped out onto, especially for a man who prides himself upon his lack of mercy.

Something cracks in his face, softening his ice-blue eyes. His eyes are not the dark eyes of a native Taboran, but rather eyes from the icy north. Did he not say he is a mountain man? There are many mountains to the north.

"Why did ye stop him?" he asks, his voice startlingly soft. "Ye know yer weak and defenseless, but ye put yerself between my manhood and that bastard's blade."

"Oh God," I say, the vivid sight of his naked tan thighs forcing itself into my mind.

"Heh," he chuckles once. "Ye put yerself between me and death. Why?"

I open my mouth to answer, but words leave me at the sight of his face softening just a bit more into something I have never seen before. My heart flutters in my chest. I try to breathe, but I can't expand my chest to draw in breath. My body becomes extremely sensitive to the humming air between us. I almost feel his heat and strength emanating from him, warming my face and hands against the young winter cold. I never truly got a good look at his face until now. There are a few wrinkles in his forehead from all the scowling he must do, but behind his wrinkles and beneath his thick beard there is a handsome man. If he were to clean himself up and not carry so much anger and scorn all the time, I'd see the man his dead wife grew to love. For him to have been married in the past…that says something about him. His dead wife thought he was kind and loyal enough. I still remember how he reacted when he learned the awful truth of Ravenna's lie, how he would never see his wife again in this life…he has a heart in him—my heart grows heavy with pity and sadness—but I think his heart has been hardened with grief and drowned in ale.

The hunter's expression drops. "Did ye intervene jus' so ye could get yer ring back and I can take ye to Hammond's?" he asks me, his voice still soft, but now also filled with disappointment.

My brows furrow. Why the disappointment? What was he hoping for? "Of course. This journey is so much more than just you and me. I made two promises to two women in the cell across from mine, and that tarnished silver ring is part of that just as you are apart of my way to fulfill those two promises—a promise of freedom, and a promise to hope and live. That's why I intervened. Now will you help me?"

His eyes shift in mine, his dark lashes standing out against his blue irises. He sighs, his gaze hardening. "Aye. I'll help ye."

A huge smile spreads my lips while my heart soars with hope and swells with triumph! "Oh thank you, hunter! Thank you!—"

"Eric. Jus' call me Eric from here on out."

"Oh"—I nod gently—"Eric. Thank you." I tip my head to him graciously in sincere gratitude.

"So long as whatever plan ye come up with disnae involve the tavern keeper seein' me, then I'll help ye, but first I wanna hear yer plan."

"My plan?" I ask him, raising my brows. "You said you'd help me. Don't you have any ideas?"

"Me?" He shakes his head. "I'm a wee bit drunk, lass." He laughs once and looks over my head. "Probably why I agreed to help ye," he says under his breath.

I frown at him and look down at my mud stained dress and boots, a sickening thought coming to mind. "I…" God, how I do not want to do this, but how else can I get close enough to the tavern keeper without bringing the hunt–Eric into his line of sight? I lift my eyes to Eric, meeting his expectant gaze. "The tavern keeper was willing to…accept my company to spare you."

The hunter raises his brows at me, shocked. "Yer no' seriously considerin' that!"

I shake my head and look at the tavern door. "Believe me, in a perfect world, I'd never consent to such a thing…" I look back at him "…but I'll do whatever it takes to get my ring back. Offering my body to him will get me close enough to steal one of the lamia bones from him."

Eric's brows relax and his eyes harden. "Offerin' yer body to him would get ye close enough, but what if he decides to not pass the night with ye? The only opportunity ye'll have to get one bone from him is when he's asleep. If he catches ye takin' anything from him, he'll do far worse to ye than what he had planned for me."

My stomach flips and churns and my heart grows heavy with despair. I swallow hard. "Then what am I going to do? I have to get that ring back!"

"Easy!" He grabs my shoulder and squeezes me firmly, leaning in enough to put his eyes more level with mine. "Listen to me. Losin' yer dignity to that bastard isnae worth any price—"

"Eric!—"

"BUT"—he says—"offering yer body to him will get ye close enough. When ye do, he'll take ye upstairs." He releases my shoulder and points to the upper level of the tavern. I glance at the upper level, seeing the closed shutters of eight windows—windows to the rooms where travelers stay, perhaps.

"When he takes ye upstairs," Eric says, drawing my eyes back down to him, "I'll climb through the window when his back is to me. Ye keep his attention while I come up behind him and knock him out. That'll give us plenty of time to take a lamia bone, get yer ring back, and get out of here before the bastard wakes up. How's that for a plan?"

I nod. "Please just render him unconscious before he…" I drift off, not wanting to say it aloud. My stomach roils with nausea. Just the thought of that tavern keeper touching me with his dirty hands, looking upon me with evil lust, the perverted fantasies playing in his mind—

"I willnae let him," Eric says, unwavering. I teeter nervously on my feet, hesitant. I've had to entrust my life to him before, but to have to entrust the protection of what little dignity I still have to him…this is different. So very different, so much more dangerous. If he fails, I'll have to live with the torment of having my dignity torn from me for the rest of my days.

"Can you promise me that?" I ask, my voice quiet.

His eyes almost widen with surprise, but he stops them, either holding back his surprise or realizing my reluctance to trust him should not be surprising. He leans towards me and covers the whole side of my neck with his hand, a sudden blooming of warmth and excitement taking me by surprise. I almost recoil from him, but he stops his face from mine with enough room to breathe.

"I give ye my word," he says. He squeezes the side of my neck gently, briefly pressing his long fingers into my soft, vulnerable flesh. Instinct wants me to jump back from him, but something keeps me here, longing for his gentleness, his warmth, his strength—he pulls away and sets his packs down on the raised walkway.

"I want to show ye somethin'," he says, rummaging through his rucksack. He pulls out one of his many knives, straightens up to his overwhelming stature, and offers me his knife by the hilt.

Fear consumes me, making me shake. "But…I don't know how to use that."

"Disnae matter. Take it."

I try to stop my trembling and look down at the ivory hilt. How I do not want to handle that weapon again, but here we stand, the sand grains spilling quickly to the bottom of the glass. What choice do I have? I lift my trembling hand to his knife and take it from him, doing my best to not slice his hand.

"Try to relax, lass. Keep a steady hand."

I look up at him and frown, trying with all my might to still my trembling. "That's easier said than done, hunter."

"Eric."

"Sorry." I look down at the knife in my trembling hand, feeling sheepish.

"It's fine. Now which is yer lead foot?"

I glance up at him and blink once, my mind now thoroughly scrambled. "What?"

"Yer lea—" he lunges for me! My feet jump back without thought, dodging him! What is he—he stops within a breath's space of me and doesn't draw any closer, his eyes falling down to my feet. "I can work with that," he mutters.

I frown. "Work with what? What's wrong?"

His eyes dart up to mine. "Yer left handed." He gestures to his knife in my left hand, drawing my eyes down to it briefly. "Yer lead foot is yer left, too. It changes thin's that I dinnae have time to teach, but I can work with it."

He readjusts his footing and leans back from me. "Now, try to imagine someone comin' at ye. He raises his weapon above ye." He lifts his arm above his head and starts bringing it down on me! I leap out of the way, dodging his strike. "Good! But dinnae jump too far!" He catches my right arm and draws me closer to his side. "Just go to his side. As he brings his strike down on ye, dodge to his side and lean in. He is now open to yer attack. See?" He gestures to his right side now completely open and unprotected. "While yer aggressor is still caught in the momentum of his attack that ye jus' dodged, ye drive yer knife into his throat to the hilt." I look up at him, meeting his stern gaze. "Ye understand? Like this." He grabs hold of my left hand and yanks me towards his right side, lifting my arm high enough to reach his throat! No, I don't want to stab him!—He barely presses the knife's point to the side of his throat. "Ye take yer knife and drive it through his throat to the hilt." His gaze grows sterner. "Ye understand!? Dinnae relent until he dies."

My stomach churns, my gaze unable to leave his knife's razor sharp point denting the soft skin of the side of his throat. "I've...I've never killed a person before." I shake my head, struggling to force the words out. "I don't know if I can do it."

His shoulder drops with his sigh. "Yer no' gonna have a choice. It's either ye or him. If ye hesitate, he will kill ye."

If I hesitate!? That pulls my gaze up to him. His face is graver than any face I have ever seen. He nods, unwavering. I'll have no choice. If the tavern keeper turns on me, he will kill me. Not unless I kill him first. Oh God, is that a sin? Is that murder? Eric lowers his knife from his neck and pulls me back in front of him, releasing my arm.

"Let's try it once more," he says. He raises his arm and lunges for me. I do my best, dodging to his side, but not going too far from him.

"Com'on now!" Eric commands. He doesn't have to say what. I tighten my grip around the hilt and thrust the knife toward his throat, making sure there is a comfortable distance between his vulnerable throat and the point of his blade. I glance up at him, seeking approval.

He looks up to the sky, his eyes squinting against the light. "That'll have to do." He lowers his arm to his side and picks up his packs off the ground. I lower his knife to my side, feeling relief while he straightens up and looks down at me with grave eyes. "Hide that knife up yer sleeve so that bastard's none the wiser."

"How? I don't have a sheath for this."

"Pay attention." He pulls another knife out of his rucksack and crouches before me, drawing my eyes down to him. I watch him carefully as he sets his packs down again, grabs the hem of my dress, and pulls it taut. I almost knee him in the face, but I hold back. He means you no harm, Snow. He means you no harm.

He cuts two long strips of mud stained wool from my dress and stands up. "Let me see yer right arm."

I lift my right arm for him. He rolls my three layers of sleeves up to my elbow. I watch closely while he ties one strip of wool beneath my elbow with a small amount of wriggle room and the other strip around the middle of my forearm.

"Give me my knife," he says, holding his hand out to me. I turn his knife around carefully in my trembling fingers, successfully not slicing myself, and hand him his blade by the hilt. He grabs my hand with his free hand, turns my right arm over, and slides his blade between the two wool strips and my skin, taking care to not slice me. He rolls my sleeves down to my wrist. "There ye are." He picks up his packs again and slings them over his shoulder. "Let's get this over with."

A small sense of gratitude fills my heart. "Thank you." My lips nearly curl into a smile, but the smile falters and fades.

He grunts and shakes his head, his expression turning graver. "Thank me when we're out of here." He turns and steps up onto the raised walkway, heading towards the tavern. I turn and follow close behind him. We stop beneath the Bannered Mare sign. I look up at Eric, his eyes focused on the weathered sign swaying back and forth in the wind, its chain links creaking.

Eric turns his head to me. "Go in and lure him upstairs. Make sure to keep his back to the window."

A worrisome thought enters my mind. Can anyone hear us discussing this plan of robbery? Did anyone hear us plotting against the tavern keeper!? I frantically look around us. No good will come of this if anyone did.

"What's wrong?" Eric asks.

"The people," I say for his ears only. There's a group of men sitting at the far corner conversing. There's the two boys who have resumed their make believe duel with their sticks, striking their sticks against each other – clack, clack, clack. There's a group of women perusing the goods of the merchant stalls on the other side of the street. I look up at Eric. "Did anyone hear us?"

He shakes his head. "Nae. Now, do ye understand what ye have to do? Once ye get the bastard upstairs, get his back to the window. Ye understand?"

My stomach knots up. My nerves start getting the better of me, eating away my resolve. The thought of the tavern keeper touching me...I shudder with fear and disgust, already feeling unclean and violated.

"Please," I say with a trembling voice, "be quick."

His grave expression lessens, concern filling his eyes. "I will. Ye have my word." He rounds the tavern's corner, leaving me alone in the street…more alone than all my years in my cell.

I try to steel my nerves. It's on me, now. I climb up the stone steps of the tavern and grab the door handle. Here goes nothing. Just walk in, Snow. Just walk right up to the tavern keeper and offer your company to him. Eric promised me he'll be quick. He gave me his word…and I trust him enough to keep his word. He won't let the tavern keeper take away what little dignity I have.

I wrench open the door partway and peek inside. It's surprisingly large! The wood walls are rotting. A fire burns in the large hearth. There are wood tables, rickety chairs, and drunken men strewn throughout the massive room. Some men have passed out in their seats, their heads and arms sprawled out on the tables with their tankards close by…either passed out or dead. Several young, pretty women barely clad in only their nightdresses go about the men, bringing food and drinks to them, laughing with them, sitting on their laps. I swallow hard. Those are prostitutes just like Sara used to be. God, that hardly matters now! Time is against me and I must get her ring back no matter the cost!—

"HO HO! HEY HO!" The sound of merry singing reaches my ears. I turn my gaze to the source. Four men at the bar stand beside each other with their arms around their shoulders, singing as they sway and swing their tankards about, spilling a little bit of their drink over their tankards' rims. "PRETTY LASS, GOIN' BY! STAY CLOSE! COM'ERE TO UNCLE NED, HO HO! HEY HO! HO HO! HEY HO!" the men sing merrily, drunken smiles on their faces.

The remainder of the men seated at the tables either converse with one another and enjoy the company of the prostitutes, or they stare down at their drinks, downcast and sullen.

I frown at the stark differences between the merry men and the silent men. All the merry ones are young, perhaps having a few more years than the two boys I saw sparring with their sticks. All the ones either passed out or depressed or enjoying the company of the prostitutes look to be the hunter's age and older...men who have probably lost loved ones and friends to Ravenna; their wives, their daughters, their sons, their brothers and sisters, God only knows who else! I can't blame these men for being here. If I hadn't been imprisoned for fourteen years, then I would have come here seeking to dull the pain of losing Ravenna, my father, my freedom, and my hope that fateful night.

"Why if it isn't you!?" the tavern keeper calls out from across the room, his voice booming. I look to him and nearly squeak. Anger distorts his bloated features. "What are you doing here!? I thought I told you to get out of here with yer fucking lover!"

I have to do this for Sara. I steel my nerves and step into the tavern, closing the door behind me. The weight of everyone's eyes falls on me. I ignore all their stares and tread carefully towards the bar where the tavern keeper stands, weaving between drunken men, tables, and random chairs.

"I want you!" I say over the merriment and laughter.

The anger starts fading from his face as I reach the patrons' side of the bar. He looks me over, a dark, perverted hunger filling this eyes. He sets down the tankard he is wiping with a filthy rag and leans across the bar, putting his face too close to mine. "You want me?" he asks, a wicked grin spreading his fat, chapped lips. "Did your lover fail to fuck you properly? You want me to fuck you right?"

My ears burn from his vulgar, heinous words. How my feet want to run me out of here, but I can't! "I…yes, I need a proper lover to pass this night with, if you're willing—"

"DON!" he yells, startling me. My heart pounds my ribs and sternum. The tavern keeper rounds the corner of the bar and captures my left arm in his strangling grasp! Thankfully. If he had grabbed my right arm, he would have felt the knife hidden up my sleeve.

"Yes, sir!?" Don calls out, somewhere behind me.

The tavern keeper starts dragging me towards the stairs, leaving me no choice but to follow. "You have charge of the bar for the rest of the night!"

"Yes, sir!"

The tavern keeper reaches the stairs and drags me up them. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into!? At this rate, the tavern keeper will have my clothes off before Eric comes through the window! I'll have to take control of the situation and stall the tavern keeper somehow.

We reach the top of the stairs and turn into the first room on the right! He pushes me back into the room and slams the door shut behind him. I take the brief moment to glance at my surroundings. There's a table, a washbasin, the window, and the bed. My heart almost plummets, my mind wanting so desperately to fixate on the bed, but I must focus on getting the man's back to this window—thump, thump! Two smelly, swollen arms tighten about me, crushing me against a rigid, round belly and heaving chest!

I cry out, my sewn wound burning. "I–I know you're eager," I say between my clenched teeth, doing my best to keep my pain quiet. He moves towards me. I turn my head to dodge his kiss. Instead, he drags his whole tongue along my cheek, leaving behind a sickening trail of spit. My stomach roils and my throat burns as the meal Eliza gave me threatens to come up my throat.

"So should you be, whore. You came back to me!"

Eric, where are you!? I'm trapped in this monster's arms, writhing in pain and terror! I can't turn him around—he takes his arms from me only to yank my scarf from my throat and rip off my belt and coat, breaking my belt buckle! The metal buckle falls to the floor, clinking. My heart nearly breaks and tears sting my eyes. I've had that belt for four years! The pains I went through to get that belt from the other cell!

"You left your laces undone," he says, grabbing at my stained blue dress. I close my eyes, squeezing out a few tears. This can't be happening. This must be some nightmare. Where are you, Eric!? I made the choice to trust you again, and this is how I am repaid!? You wait outside of the window for your own sake, breaking your word that you gave me just so the tavern keeper won't see—

"HEY–HMM!"

Someone pushes me back, taking the floor out from under my feet! The backs of my knees hit the bed's edge, bringing me down onto the rock hard bed! Fear takes hold of me. I force my teary eyes open and look up, gasping. Eric towers over the tavern keeper, his hands about the man's mouth and throat. Both men struggle, the tavern keeper punching and kneeing Eric in the stomach in an attempt to break free, but the hunter keeps his hold of the man.

"Eri!—"

Eric twists the man's head suddenly! SNAP! The man goes limp, the hunter holding his body like a rag doll by its head. I cover my agape mouth with both hands. He–he killed him! That was not part of the plan! What's going to happen now?

Eric sits the tavern keeper down in the corner quietly and takes his hands from his head, not making a sound. He looks back at me, his eyes looking me over before settling on my face. "Are ye alright?" he whispers.

My body trembles with shock and fear. "You"—I spit into my hands and manage to lower them from my mouth—"you killed him. Th–that wasn't our plan!"

He shakes his head at me. "Ye didnae get his back to the window. He saw me! I had nae choice. It was either us or him. Ye understand?"

"I…" I–I need to understand why he killed the tavern keeper with my mind and my heart. "You killed the man because…because…" I lose words, my head shaking. I've heard of people dying before. I was in the same room as papa when he passed, but I never saw the life leave his eyes. I took that dwarf's sight, but that's not something I can bear to see in my mind. The man who saved my life by warning me to not eat the food brought to me during the early days of my imprisonment was taken to Ravenna, so I never saw the moment he died. The girl who coughed herself to death, I never saw the moment she died. I just heard her hacking her lungs out one night, closed my eyes for that night, and woke up to see her lifeless body on the ground. I've seen corpses, flayed bodies, headless bodies, and bones, but never someone who died with my own eyes upon him.

"Lass?" Eric reaches his hand toward me, but I recoil from him, pulling my legs onto the bed. He stops his hand midair and shows me his open hand, empty of any weapon, but God and I know his hand is full of strength to end someone's life quicker than I can blink my eyes. To think he laid his hands on me, that he had threatened to snap my neck lest I shut up.

"It's alright, lass—"

"No, it's not!" I whisper, still trembling with fear, but now burning with anger. "You just murdered a man! You took his life!"

His eyes widen with surprise. "He—"

"Don't tell me that he was a bad man so he deserved to die! You cannot decide who lives and who dies! You did not give life, so you cannot take it!"

His brows furrow with bewilderment and some anger. "Greta, listen to me. He saw me in the window. He drew his knife and tried to stab ye in yer back! I had to act. If I had no', ye'd be on this floor dyin' in a pool of yer blood."

"He…" I drift off, still trying to understand this. The tavern keeper was going to stab me in the back? I look into Eric's icy eyes, so cold, so detached from the knowledge that he just took a man's life with his own hands…like I almost did to that poor dwarf that fateful night.

Eric shakes his head at me, his face softening. "I'm sorry, but this is the way of the world. The sooner ye understand that, the better."

I sigh, pitying Eric in my heart. "The world doesn't have to be like this." I gesture to the dead tavern keeper propped up in the corner, his eyes lifeless.

Eric frowns at me. "But it is." He turns his attention to the dead tavern keeper. "Get dressed," he orders while he crouches before the corpse. He pats down the tavern keeper's front with both hands. Instead of dressing, I carefully approach the hunter and kneel beside him. I reach out with trembling hands towards the corpse, swallow hard, and force myself to help search the corpse's stinking clothes.

"I told ye to dress," Eric says under his breath.

I ignore Eric's retort and pull back the tavern keeper's yellowed apron to look behind it, spotting a strange…pouch of sorts. "Not until we find one lamia bone," I say resolutely. "There's something back here beneath his apron."

"I felt it." Eric says. He pulls back the other side of the apron from the corpse's barrel shaped chest. "I see it!" He reaches his hand down into the black depths of the strange pouch. "I've heard about these pockets," he says softly.

I glance up at him, my brows furrowing. "Pockets? What are those?"

He glances at me and shrugs while sweeping his hand carefully along the seam of the apron's hidden pouch. "A new way of storin' things on yer person—here!" A huge grin spreads his mouth. He pulls his clenched fist out from the apron.

My eyes widen and my heavy heart starts lifting. "We just need one," I remind him.

He opens his fist, revealing eight fine lamia bones resting in his palm!

I look up at him and laugh with hope and relief. "They're beautiful!"

Laughter breaks his smile, hitting a particular depth in his voice that almost seems to open him up…in a strangely heartwarming way. "Aye, they are beautiful," he says, his laughter ebbing. He looks down at the bones in his hand and sighs, his smile shrinking. "I cannae decide whether we should take all these back or no'." Eric lifts his gaze to me, a hint of his smile remaining on his lips. "This bastard's boys know ye came up here with him, so they could tie his death to ye." My smile disappears as he continues, "But if we take all these bones, they'll know for certain it was us."

I shake my head at the hunter. "I didn't kill him. That was not apart of our plan."

The rest of his smile leaves him. "I know." He picks one bone out of his hand and holds it out to me. "Take it," he says gruffly, a little anger, perhaps hurt slipping into his words.

My heart aches a little with guilt. "Thank you," I say softly, taking the bone from him.

"Yer welcome." He lifts the apron from the corpse's body and reluctantly returns the bones to the pouch, or pocket, behind the apron. I frown at the hunter and clutch the lamia bone to my heart. I can imagine the tavern keeper drawing that awful looking cleaver out of his apron pouch while I was looking away in a pitiful effort to avoid his kiss, if it can even be called that. The hunter pulls his hand out from beneath the apron, a sad, disappointed look on his face. My eyes widen. It's the exact same look he had on his face when he realized why I put myself between him and death. He was not only disappointed, but saddened by my reason. Why? The hunter lifts his eyes to me, his eyes heavy and blue.

"Get dressed!" he says impatiently, his sadness quickly leaving him.

My frown deepens and I nod, my guilt wringing my heart. "I'm sorr—" SHRIEK! Eric and I freeze up, our eyes growing big! Fear fills my heart and makes it beat hard in an effort to expel the fear. Screams fill the street outside! Black glass knights! Finn!

"They're here!" I whisper, gripping the hunter's arm for some shred of comfort.

"Get dressed! We've gotta go!" Eric bounds to his feet and gathers my coat, scarf, and gloves off the floor. He turns to me. I take my coat from him without instruction and pull it on while he wraps my scarf securely around my throat and stuffs my gloves into his rucksack. He rushes past me and starts creeping to the closed door—CRASH! downstairs, halting the hunter and me. They came into this tavern!

"They're in here!" I whisper, looking at the hunter.

He turns sharply and grabs my hand, his rough skin against mine. "This way!" he whispers, leading me to the window!

"What!?" I breathe, fear twisting and contorting my guts as he climbs out of the window onto the slanted roof, pulling my arm through! "Eric!—"

"We've no choice!" He looks back at me, squeezing my hand. "Trust me, lass, this is the only way—" CRASH! Thump, thuMP, THUMP, up the stairs!

"COM'ON!" He pulls me out of the window onto the roof beside him, my feet willing. I clutch the lamia bone to my heart while he leads me carefully to the edge of the roof, stopping us there. I look down, the roof so far from the muddy ground of the alley! If we jump, we'll break our legs!

"We can't jump!" I look at the hunter.

"I know." He does not spare me a glance while he releases my hand. He turns his back to the alley and steps back off the roof!

I move to catch him! "ERIC!—" His hands snatch the roof's edge, catching himself and breaking his fall. I lean over the roof's edge enough to look down at him, keeping my balance. The last thing I want to do is take a tumble off this roof. "God!" I gasp, watching him with awe and fear while he lowers himself closer to the ground and lets go, landing squarely on his feet in the muddy alley.

He looks up at me. "I'm fine, lass!" He lifts his arms to me, his hands open and ready. "Jump down, I'll catch ye!"

My eyes widen. "WHAT!?—" CRASH! right behind me! I leap off the roof without second thought, falling—his arms appear about me and tighten, saving my bones from breaking against the muddy earth. Our eyes lock as he sets me down on my feet, his focused blue eyes tied to my brown ones with unseen strings as fragile as spider's silk.

SHRIEK!

"Ye alright!?"

"Yes." I barely nod, unable to take my eyes from his.

"Good, com'on!" He grabs my hand and takes off with me down the alley. We reach the end of the alley and turn left down another alley. We reach the end of this alley and turn right. We duck left behind the next alley and right behind the next, the screams of Hymark's people growing more distant. As Eric continues leading me, a towering spiked wall rises up over the roofs. Wait, the bastard is leading me out of here, away from Eliza and Geoffrey, away from Sara's ring!

"LIAR!" I dig my heels into the mud and yank back on my arm hard, nearly ripping my arm out of my shoulder!

The hunter stops and turns back to me, his brows furrowed and his eyes burning. "We dinnae have time!"

I grit my teeth, an idea coming to mind. "No matter what, I cannot leave without her ring. Forget our deal. Get yourself out of here."

His eyes widen. "WHAT!?—" I slap him hard across his cheek, snapping his head to the right. "AH!"

I yank my hand out of his grasp, wheel around, and run down the alley back the way we came.

"LASS!" the hunter bellows, his call sending fear through me like a bolt of lightning, but I keep running, weaving through the alleys aimlessly. My heart pounds in my chest and my ears. My breaths go in and out of me short and quick. SHRIEK! rises over the rooftops. Screams of the innocent grow louder. I'm getting closer to the main street, whichever way I'm going. God, please help me find Eliza and Geoffrey's cabin. I care not where the hunter goes at this point. If he leaves me here and gets himself out of here as I told him to, I care not now. I round the corner of the tavern, stepping out into the open street! I suck in a desperate breath and look to the end of the street, spotting Eliza and Geoffrey's tiny cabin! I'm almost there, praise God! Just get me there. I turn sharply and run for Eliza and Geoffrey's cabin, willing myself to ignore the screams of women and children and the shouting of men. The two little boys I saw pretending to duel come to my mind. God, please let me be alright.

I reach the side window of their cabin and peer through the dirty panes. The hearth's fire is dying, but I can just make out two figures flying about the room, gathering items off their shelves and stuffing them into packs on the table that I had laid. They must be preparing to flee their home. I need to speak with them and give them this lamia bone for Sara's ring before they leave! I glance down the street and gasp, my racing heart skipping a beat. A whole army of black glass knights swarm the street, some riding their black armored horses up and down the street setting fire to all the buildings with torches! The other knights lay their black glass hands on the young women and children and force them into prisoner carts. The few men who fight against them are quickly slaughtered, some beheaded, some pierced through the chest and stomach. Women scream and weep over their men's deaths as they are loaded helplessly into the overcrowded prisoner carts—fathers, husbands, brothers, uncles, perhaps sons lost, their lives ended in vain.

My heart aches overwhelmingly. Tears spill from my eyes. Evil. This is pure evil…the same evil that dwells in me. This must be one of the raids that Greta told me about. If this is so, then all this murder, these tears, this bloodshed, is all happening because Ravenna wants it to. She wants it to—no, perhaps it's not want, but something she sees as need.

A familiar hulking figure runs out into the street, looking about frantically. Eric! His focus stops dead ahead of him, not on me, but on something else. He charges down the street right up to a black glass knight about to slaughter a young man standing between it and a trembling woman shielding the two little boys that were dueling earlier!

"Eric!" I cry out. Eric swings his hatchet into the knight's stomach, shattering it to a thousand shards. Eric turns to the man and helps him usher the woman and the two boys down the street away from the burning village before the knight can fully rebuild itself. The five of them duck into the darkness of another alley, disappearing from sight. I shake my head, my jaw hanging in shock. Why did Eric come back this way? Did he make a wrong turn and have to come back? Why did he save the man and who I presume to be his family? A wood door creaks open and footsteps rush around the corner, Geoffrey coming into my sight.

"What are you doing standing here!?" he asks me, He grabs my hand and leads me into the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him and bolting it shut. My eyes fall upon Eliza's trembling form, my sight too blurry with tears to see the fear in her face.

"My dear, you're alright!" Eliza says while she comes up to me and embraces me tightly, both fear and relief in her voice. Her round belly pushes into my sunken one, arching my back uncomfortably, but I return her embrace, still clutching the lamia bone in my fist.

"Thank God you're alright!" I tell her. I break down sobbing, trying to not sob on her shoulder, but she does not push me away. "Ravenna…she ordered this raid!"

"We know, we must leave," Geoffrey says urgently, rushing about us.

Eliza pulls back from me and smiles sweetly, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. "Come with us, dear. We have a way out of here!—" BANG,BANG,BANG! someone pounds on the window! My heart plummets and we all look to the back window.

"Eric!" I breathe out, choking back a sob. Eric's panicked eyes fall upon me and relief fills his face. My heart aches and softens for him.

Geoffrey rushes to the window and waves his hand to Eric. "Come around to the front! I'll let you in!"

Eric nods and rushes past the window while Geoffrey bounds past us and unbolts the door. I turn back to face the door, pulling myself out of Eliza's arms. My breath sticks in my throat while I watch Geoffrey wrench open his door, letting Eric burst into the main room. Geoffrey shuts the door and bolts it while Eric grabs the table I had lain on and drags it to the door, it's legs squealing across the floor.

Geoffrey turns and nods, grabbing the table. "Good idea!" Both men further secure the door by pushing the large table against it.

"They're comin' this way! We need to get out of here!" Eric tells Geoffrey, leaning across the table to speak more quietly to Geoffrey.

"I know, I hear the screams and the shrieks," Geoffrey says, letting go of the table and gathering all his packs on it. "We have a way out, a tunnel that leads out under the wall…" Geoffrey's words fade from my ears as Eric turns to me, his relieved eyes resting on me. My heart fills to the brim with tender emotions that render me far too vulnerable. He…he came back. Not only that, but he saved the lamia's eggs. He carried me all the way here. He saved that family and he came back. Is this really happening? Is he really here? Is he only a figment of my mind?

"Eric!" I sob his name and run to him, throwing my arms around the back of his strong neck in an embrace. I bury my face into his chest, clinging to him like I did while we were in that dark forest. I was drunk that time. Now I am completely free of ale, yet here I am embracing the same man who threatened to snap my neck only six, seven days ago. Is this really happening? How is any of this happening?

"I'm here," he says, wrapping one strong arm around my back, but he holds me loosely to him.

"You…came back," I choke out, still not fully believing these words in my heart. In my mind, I know he came back. He is here now! But in my heart, I still struggle with it. Then again, I could be imagining all this. I might be dreaming all this, seeing this man do all these good deeds despite the knowledge that all good men are dead now! It may only be an illusion to comfort me in the face of certain pain and death.

Though this may only be an illusion, I cling tighter to him and look up at him, pressing my chin into his chest. "I told you to get out of here. Why did you come back?"

He frowns down at me and tightens his arm about me, his fingers pressing into the side of my breast, but that does not diminish how safe I am with him. "We made a deal, lass." He squeezes me gently with his arm, pressing my front into his, surrounding me with further safety. "I'll get ye to Hammond's fortress alive and well. Ye have my word, but we have to get out of here now!"

A small bit of disappointment fills my heart while Eric steps out of my embrace. God, what more should I have expected? I promised him fifty gold pieces and a young horse with all her tack should he deliver me to Hammond's fortress alive, but he also said 'well'. That is an addition to our deal.

"Eric, the cellar! Help me!" Geoffrey says.

"Aye!" Eric rushes past me to Geoffrey, my eyes going to Eliza as she comes up to me, Sara's ring in her hand!

"Oh!" I breathe out with relief and open my fist, showing her the lamia bone.

"You got it!" Eliza says. We exchange Sara's ring and the lamia bone.

"Thank you!" I pull the loop of Sara's ring over my head and hug Eliza tightly. "Thank you, thank you!" I tell her profusely, feeling as though a piece of myself has been restored to me. I rest my chin on Eliza's bony shoulder and watch both men lift up a piece of the floor and set it aside, revealing a gaping square hole just large enough for one man to fit through.

Eric looks up to me, reaching his hand out towards me. "Lasses, let's go!"

"We must go," Eliza says, both of us pulling out of our embrace. I share a sweet smile with her—BANG,BANG,BANG,BANG,BANG! on the front door, all of us falling dead silent. SHRIEK!

"ELIZA!" Geoffrey orders. Eric wraps his arms about Eliza and me and forces us to the gaping hole.

"My wife first!" Geoffrey says. Eric and Geoffrey grab either of Eliza's arms and help her down into the hole until the darkness consumes her. Both men pull their arms out of the darkness and grab me, pulling me toward the darkness! My stomach lurches at the thought of being surrounded by darkness, listening to the shrieks, the screams—

"Legs first, lass!" Eric orders, sweeping my legs out from under me as he picks me up in his arms!

"Eric, I don't want to go down there! Not into darkness again!" I panic as he lowers me into the darkness.

"NO TIME!" Eric says, not letting me go until my feet find solid ground in this darkness. I look up at both men, my eyes going to Eric immediately.

"I'm here," Eliza says gently, taking hold of my hand and leading me a few steps back. Eric leaps down into the darkness, a little light illuminating his face as he turns back and looks up at Geoffrey.

BANG! BANG! CRA,CRA,CRACK! The knights are breaking the door down! Geoffrey shakes his head and looks down at Eric, his eyes filling with urgency and sadness.

"Geoffrey!?" Eliza questions with tears, growing suspicion and fear in her voice.

"I have to stay behind," Geoffrey says, full of mourning.

"NO!" Eliza screams and runs for him, but Eric catches her and holds her back. "You must come with us!" she pleads, sobbing, struggling against Eric to reach her husband, but to no avail.

"Eliza, I love you!"

SHRIEK! The door splinters and cracks more with each BANG, the legs of the table grinding bit by bit against the floor above our heads!

"GEOFFREY!"

"Eric, get her to safety!"

I look to Eric, seeing him nod once.

"GEOFFREY, NO!"

Geoffrey reaches across the gaping hole and pulls back the piece of floor over us, cutting off the last bit of daylight.

"NO!" Eliza sobs.

"Eliza, shh!" I plead softly, reaching out and feeling blindly in the darkness until I find the cold leather of Eric's coat and the wool of Eliza's coat. "You must be quiet!" I whisper to her.

CRASH! The door crashes upon the floor above us.

"Back!" Eric whispers, somehow muffling Eliza's sobbing to near silence. He grabs a tight hold of my hand and leads me in the darkness away from the hidden entrance to this dark, stuffy cellar.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, across the floor right where Geoffrey stood.

"Which way out, Eliza?" Eric asks urgently, quietly. "Which way out!?"

"GET OUT OF HERE, YOU SONS'OF BITCHES!" Geoffrey yells, his voice muffled.

"There's – there's a hole in the wall—"

SHRIEK!

"GO AHEAD—" Something ends Geoffrey's taunt. Thud. THUD. Eliza gasps painfully, silence falling upon us with the realization. That soft thud was Geoffrey's head hitting the floor, and the THUD was his body collapsing to the floor. A new welling of tears gather in my eyes and spill down my cheeks. I turn and hug Eliza from behind, holding her tightly, trying to both comfort myself and comfort her, though I doubt I'm doing any good.

THUMP…THUMP…THUMP across the floor.

"This way," Eric whispers, grabbing the back of my head and guiding it into a darker hole in the flagstone wall. "Ye'll have to crawl through it. Keep yer head low."

I cry silently and crawl into the hole. My long hair gets caught beneath my hands and knees as I continue crawling for my life, but I will myself to ignore the pulling pain at my hair roots. I glance back, barely seeing the dark silhouettes of Eliza crawling after me and Eric's larger silhouette crawling after her. I look ahead, one of my tears dripping onto the back of my hand. I cannot fathom what Eliza is going through. She just lost her home and her husband, a woman so heavy with child that she may give birth any moment! How is this going to affect my four month journey to Hammond's fortress? Will she slow us down—God, no, I cannot think like that! It's selfish and heartless. No matter what, no matter what Eric's intentions are with Eliza, I will ensure we both get her to safety just as Geoffrey told Eric to do.

The three of us continue crawling along, the dirt icy beneath my hands, stuffing beneath my fingernails as I claw my way forward. Eliza and I both weep silently, more so her than me. In my blurry sight, I see a small speck of something flickering at the end of the tunnel, it's rays shifting beautifully like the sun shimmers through the sea. Daylight!

"We're nearly there, Eliza!" I whisper, my whisper reverberating all about us despite the confined space. "We're almost out!"

The farther we crawl, the more the daylight grows. We crawl and crawl, drawing so close! I reach the end and tumble out onto the ash laden earth! I gasp in a desperate breath, willing myself to ignore the fiery stabbing in my stitched wound. I pray the stitches are still holding me together both inside and out. Eliza! She's coming out next! I scramble to my feet and grab hold of Eliza's arm, helping her out so that she does not fall out like I did. As I help her to her feet, I manage to get a good look of her tear stricken face. She looks down at her feet, looking beside herself, almost detached from reality. I hug her to me and look over her shoulder, watching Eric's head emerge from the small hole in the side of this towering hill.

"Eric, watch yourself! It's a small drop," I say.

He glances at me and nods as he carefully crawls out of the hole, landing squarely on his feet. "Thanks, lass." He brushes the dirt off his hands and comes up to me, looking over both Eliza and me with concerned eyes.

"Ye alright?" he asks me, locking his gaze with mine.

I barely nod, tears still streaming silently down my cheeks. "What do we do now?"

He sighs and looks down at Eliza, placing a filthy but gentle hand on her back, trying in vain to comfort her. "We keep movin'. We stay off the roads."

He turns Eliza and me around and ushers us forward, herding us farther away from the distant screams of the innocent and the shrieks of the black glass knights like a shepherd leads his flock to safety. I manage to glance back, seeing the expansive cloud of black smoke rising beyond the spiked wall surrounding Hymark. All those innocent people, even the men who let the prostitutes sit on their laps, the poor prostitutes, Eliza, Geoffrey…all of them, their lives ruined in one swift attack. How is this possible? I lost my whole world that fateful night, and all of Tabor lost something that fateful night. So this is possible. We all have lost something or everything because of Ravenna's actions. How could she do this? How could anyone bring themselves to commit such horrendous acts!?

I hug Eliza securely to my side and walk with her, the screams growing more distant until there is nothing but the grinding of rocks and ash beneath our steps. Why is Ravenna doing this? It's no longer a matter of how, but why. She said she wanted to rid the world of evil, but how can you rid the world of evil by slaughtering the good and the innocent? My heart aches terribly. Has Maacthis' evil consumed every last bit of her? If it has, then Maacthis' evil could just as easily consume me. My heart tightens and great fear fills it up and spills out of it. I am just as capable of ending a life as anyone else is. I saw so many die today, lives ended that none of us have any right to end. Even Eric killing the tavern keeper…but God above, he also saved that family and Eliza.

I shake my head, just wanting to rid my scrambled mind and heavy heart of all this contradiction! Perhaps other men can slaughter life one moment and save life the next, but I can never cross that line. Once I do, that will lead me down the path to Maacthis' evil.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Night descends upon us quickly, bringing with it bitter cold and an angry thunderstorm. Eric guides us into a small alcove scarring the face of a cliff for shelter before the first strike of lightning.

"May we light a fire?" I ask him past my chattering teeth as Eliza and I sink to the ground, clinging to each other for warmth.

Eric looks down at me and shakes his head, his face shrouded in darkness. "Nae, a fire will give us away. We have to stay hidden."

"Oh," I say past chattering teeth. Silence comes over us once again. A flash of white light shoots across the sky and the rumble of thunder follows, making the earth tremble beneath us. The pitter patter of rain starts up, followed by another flash of lightning and the grumbling of thunder, the earth trembling beneath us like a submerged beast waking up from his long slumber. Eric treads near the entrance of the alcove and stops, his eyes scanning the vast open plains of ash. These plains are barren wastelands of ash and rock now, but I remember a time when these plains were rolling prairies of tall green grass that felt like silk to walk through. Wild horses would run through here and graze in peace. Shepherds brought out their sheep and farmers their oxen to pasture here. The land was so fertile and the ground so steady to build on that only farmers could come out here to build their homes and seed their farms. The merchants and other common folk professions stayed in the cities and villages, the fisherman along the Gastean Sea, the seamstresses and healers nearby thick forests. Everything and everyone had a place in this once diverse, fertile land, but now it is all the same everywhere I look—barren ground covered with ash and rock. It's so difficult to believe that one person, one woman, has done all this…but this is Maacthis' power. His evil.

Moments drift by slowly, lightning flashing, thunder rumbling, the light pitter patter of rain turning into a torrential downpour. Rain water streams down the entrance of this alcove in tiny waterfalls, providing a sort of wall between us and the outside world. It's not protection, but it brings me a little comfort to see a separation between us and outside no matter how pathetic it is.

Soft snoring draws my eyes down to Eliza. Her head rests on my shoulder, her back rising and falling steadily beneath my arm with her even breathing. My heart aches for the poor woman, but her sleeping gives me the chance to speak with Eric about her.

I look all the way up at the back of Eric's head, a brief flash of lightning giving me a glimpse of his stern face scanning the horizon. The white light fades. CLAP! The thunder sounds and shakes the ground beneath me, its rumble lingering in the sky until the harsh downpour of the rain drowns it out.

"Eric?" I call to him softly, just loud enough for him to hear me over the heavy downpour.

The shadow of his head turns to look back at me.

"I've been waiting for Eliza to fall asleep to speak with you about her."

He nods once. "What about her?"

I draw in a deep breath, gathering my words. "What are we going to do with her? I mean…where are we going to take her?"

He sighs over the heavy downpour and turns, stepping silently over to us and crouching beside me. "I dinnae know." A brief flash of lightning falls upon us, showing me his face, his eyes full of concern and heavy with exhaustion. The light fades, shrouding us in darkness again. CRACK! The grumbling follows and fades to the heavy downpour of the rain.

I frown at him. "She's so heavy with child. She'll give birth any moment! We cannot take her all the way to Hammond's fortress with us."

"I know." He looks to Eliza, his broad shoulders weighed down by the invisible burden that Eliza and I are putting upon him, especially me. Guilt weighs down my heart.

"I'm sorry," I say, trying to keep my voice down so that I don't wake Eliza. "None of this is Eliza's fault, nor yours. It was never my intention to place such a terrible burden on you, a woman heavy with child and me, all three of our lives in your hands and on your shoulders."

He turns his head to me. Lightning flashes, lighting up his face, his face soft and tender, yet tired and weary. The light fades. CLAP! The earth startles beneath us, but the thunder fades quickly, barely rumbling.

"We'll have to wait until she wakes up to know where she can go for safety and support, but I doubt that wherever that is for her, it's near here. There's a farm no' too far from here. It's about a day's walk. Jerome and Annabelle, they're good people. We'll take her there and ye and I will continue onto Hammond's."

I nod slowly. "How do you know these farmers? Jerome and Annabelle?"

He clears his throat. "I worked with Jerome and Annabelle a long time ago. We're good friends." He looks down at Eliza still snoring softly, her head still on my shoulder. "Annabelle will take care of her, and Jerome and Louis will take her wherever she needs to go."

"Louis?" I question.

"Jerome and Annabelle's son." He lifts his head to me. "Here, ye should wear these." He reaches into his satchel and pulls something out, offering them to me.

"What is this?" I ask, taking the object from him, the object feeling a lot like the wool gloves Eliza gave me! "My gloves!"

He nods.

A soft smile spreads my lips. "Thank you."

"Yer welcome. Try to get some sleep. We move at first light."

"Alright," I say softly, my smile shrinking a little. Eric rises to his overwhelming stature. He turns and starts back towards the entrance of the alcove, my heart becoming too tender for him. "You're a good man," I say a little louder so he can hear me while I carefully pull on my gloves one hand at a time, enjoying the near instant warmth they bring me. He slows in his steps and stops, caught midway between Eliza and me and the entrance of the alcove. I…I was wrong about him. "I…" God, what I am revealing to him and entrusting him with "…I believe your intentions for me are good and just…and I believe that you will deliver me to Hammond's fortress alive and well…" how hard this is to say "…I trust you."

He looks over his shoulder at me. "I'm glad ye trust me. Now go to sleep." He goes to the entrance of the alcove and stands there, keeping vigil. My heart aches for him and softens more. I have not seen him sleep once yet. He falls asleep after me and awakes before me. Or is he always keeping watch? Does he ever find rest? I let my mind ruminate upon him and close my heavy eyes for the night.