The Year Before…

The river was cold today. The little girl smiled as the water trickled over her bare feet, drifting between her toes. Cooling her sore feet after all that running she did today.

"Mary! Please be careful around the river banks, you know you will only fall in again!" the girl looked over at her mother across the river, laughing at the worried frown held there on her forehead.

"I'm OK mother! See you at dinner!" The girl stood up from her perch on a slimy rock and spun to sprint into the forest.

"Please take the bridge sweet! I wouldn't…" her mother shook her head dejectedly, one day her daughter was going to get into some serious trouble. Then she would be alone again.

She never forgave her husband for leaving her on her own with Mary. Shaking her head of the memories, she went back to her arduous work, allowing one of the other worker women to draw her thoughts away from the past, with some light conversation.

The branches stuck to her clothes and her hair as she ran to the forest as fast as she could. She didn't like taking the bridge because it always made her feel weak, but she knew her mother was truly worried so just this one day she wouldn't return soaking wet from an unexpected tumble into the water.

Mary began to slow as she reached the bridge, visible now in the distance. Spotting some pretty coloured flowers flanking the bridge posts, Mary bent down to pick some to bring home to her mother, before continuing on, on her journey.

The bridge itself was quite old and could only carry one horse at a time. It was more of a secret defence mechanism, to protect her vulnerable village ensconced in the forest that stood directly past the bridge, than a bridge of transport means.

It was built over the river that flowed from high in the mountains, to the low flat land. It was a strange river. It had no fish and it completely by-passed the forest never going near a single tree.

This was the only flaw in the village defence. In order to clean clothes, or simply to get water for everyday needs, one had to leave the safe confines of the tall pine trees and venture out into the open.

So far there had been no attacks or trouble as the village was well hidden and very secret. People simply forgot to worry about leaving the forest anymore. People like her mother, began to move to where the river widens, further out in the open, in order to have more room to do the washing.

Holding the flowers to her chest, Mary turned back towards the spot where her mother sat with the other women of the village, scrubbing dirty clothes. She could hear the laughter and talk of the women, but she could not see them. There was a slight rise in the land that blocked them from her view still Mary turned, satisfied that at least she could still hear them.

She was about to pass the first group of trees when she heard it. There were hoof beats, several getting louder and louder as they approached her.

They were coming from the direction of the village. Mary's blood ran cold. The flowers fell from her hands as Mary wildly pounced onto a tree seeking purchase to propel herself up and out of the vision of the intruders. Grabbing wildly, she had just managed to reach a high enough branch when the first of the horses came into view.

It was a black horse that looked like it was snarling. It stopped just below her tree and began to circle wildly. The rider seemed to move with the horse and seemed to have no trouble keeping his seat. Mary had to admire him a bit for that. Whoever he was.

She could hear other horses approaching but they were still quite far off at this stage. The horse had finally stopped spinning and had come to a complete halt. The rider, staring at something on the ground swung off his mount. Two steps later he knelt down and Mary suppressed a gasp as he picked up the bunch of wildflowers that she had picked for her mother.

They were tied together with the ribbon that she had around her wrist, in the off chance that she would lose the one in her hair. Holding her hands to her mouth, trying to hold back her gasps of fear, Mary could do naught but watch in terror as the man, who had been fingering the ribbon, looked up.

She fell. As soon as he looked up she could see the darkness creeping up around the edges of her vision, as she prevented herself from taking a breath. Soon the blackness took over and she fell into the swirling abyss below.

Mary woke up wrapped in warm blankets, on the back of a horse, moving through an unknown area of forest. That wasn't right. Mary crinkled her brow in confusion. She knew the forest inside and out. This was not her home.

Panic welling up inside of her she began to struggle against the arms that caged her against a hard chest. After a while, she could do nothing but give up as the steel bands showed no signs of relaxing their hold.

As if they were confident that the struggle in her had died, the person behind her spoke.

"Glad you are awake. Gave us quite the fright when you fell. Lucky I caught you, eh?" Mary turned to look up at the source of the voice speaking to her. Staring up at this man, she tried to pinpoint where she had seen him before. He had deep dimples encasing a long thin mouth thst was stretched into an easy smile. He had a full head of dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders in a shaggy mess.

It was then she noticed his eyes. They were the exact shade of green as her own. They crinkled at the edges in humour. Mary failed to see the joke. Who was this familiar face?

Noticing the frustrated expression on her face, the man laughed a deep laugh that vibrated through his chest shaking her insides. "Now lass I am deeply offended that you do not recognise your own father!"

Mary blanched. The struggle in the man's arms increased tenfold and taken off guard, Mary slithered to the ground. Wrapped as she was, she had no way to protect herself from her fall, so she fell flat on her face into the soft mud below.

After the initial shock of the fall left her body, she began to struggle against her blankets, only to fall again as she tripped over the mass gathered at her feet. This time she fell on her arse and instead of fighting anymore, she simply sat there cross legged staring at her knees. Tears blurring her vision. What did they want from her? Taunting her like this?

A hand cut across her vision. An upturned hand was held out for her under her nose. This hand was decidedly feminine and she frowned at that for there were obvious calluses caused only by wielding swords or bows. A hand used to battle.

Deciding her pride had suffered enough of a beating, she accepted the aide offered and was pulled to her feet. But what she saw when she reluctantly looked up to thank the good Samaritan, stopped her dead. A mirror image of herself stared right back at her. At least identical if not for the small scar on her forehead close to the hairline.

Groaning, Mary turned to the nearest bush and vomited, the world turning black once again.