Fiona stepped outside of the warm cabin into the crisp autumn air. Her lungs immediately tensed as the frigid wind entered them, and she coughed. Drawing the collar of her cloak tightly about her neck, she set off briskly, humming to keep herself calm.
The tightly packed dead leaves crackled beneath her feet, their moist scent sweeping up around her. Her breath turned to mist before her, a consistent reminder of how cold it was. She shivered and rubbed her arms against her sides. "Perhaps Mother was right about taking a scarf… My neck is covered in goosebumps." Of course, one of those thick scarves would only slow me down, and I want to get this over with in a hurry. I'm glad I could save Mother the trouble, but the forest is a dangerous place for anyone, especially for someone without a way to defend themselves.
So preoccupied was she in thought that she didn't notice the thick fallen branch on the path before her.
Her foot caught under it, and she crashed to the ground. "Oof!" The basket flew from her hands, spilling baked goods across the leaves and dirt. "Darn it!" She cried out. She staggered to her feet and rubbed the muck off of her scuffed hands. Well, at least Mother didn't see. Or anyone else, for that matter. Comforted by the thought, she retrieved the basket and peered in it to see if anything was left. "Good… Most of them are still inside." She kicked the soiled ones off the path into the forest. No evidence. She couldn't resist a smirk. "Alright, now… Continuing on my way…" She set off once more, resuming the tune she'd been humming before.
To her left, a sharp crack sounded.
She immediately halted and listened, her body tense. A stick…? Her heart pounded. Maybe it was just a deer.
She whirled around to see nothing in the thick trees. A rabbit, then.
But the wind picked up ever so slightly, and she shivered once more before starting again at a brisk pace.
Not a mile away, a figure lurked in the forest. He could almost taste the fresh-baked goods as their scent drifted to him through the heavy breeze. He smirked in anticipation - perhaps a trader had spilled some? - and set off towards the trail.
She had been going along for several minutes when she heard more crackling in the woods. She paused again, convinced that it was a small animal. But when the crackling grew louder and steadier, she whipped around and drew up a fallen stick, holding it at the ready. Her heart was a throbbing clamor in her chest as a figure appeared out of the trees.
The stick fell from her hands when she saw the person clearly.
He was taller than her, with tousled blond hair and a roughly buttoned flannel shirt. He wore a long brown coat thrown over, and it hung open, the flaps swaying in the breeze.
Fiona scurried to pick the stick back up and pointed it at the young man. "Who are you?"
"A beggar, miss." He took a step closer and held out his hand. "Perhaps you could spare some food."
Fiona knew her grandmother with her small appetite wouldn't miss a bun out of the basket, seeing as there were still several left. But the way the young man's eyes brushed coldly across her face, and that entitled way he held out his hand, rubbed her the wrong way. "Perhaps I could, if you had manners."
He threw his head back and laughed, a careless and unrestrained sound that gave her goosebumps. "Manners, says the impudent girl."
"The impudent girl who has the food, and who is entitled at least to common courtesy," Fiona snapped back.
"Give me one of what you have in there," the young man drawled, his face unamused.
"No. Not to strange boys who follow me through the woods, scare me half to death-" she couldn't resist stomping in anger here- "and then mock me!" Fiona's voice rose. "Goodbye, SIR." She turned around, her red cloak fluttering in the wind, and continued down the trail, her cheeks burning from his insolence.
He watched her walk away for several moments before speaking up. "Maybe something in exchange for me escorting you?"
Fiona halted in disbelief. "Escort me?"
"Yes."
She bit the inside of her cheek and continued to walk. "The most dangerous thing on this trail seems to be you."
"You have that right," he whispered.
Fiona froze and turned back to look at him in fear. Then she began to sprint away with all her might, her cloak flying out behind her and her heart pounding in terror. Is he threatening me?!
Through the roar in her ears she could hear him laughing, and then his laughter died away in the strangest way. She didn't dare to turn around, not with her grandmother's cabin finally in sight. She ran all the way up to the front door, and did not look back even when she went through the doorway and slammed the thick wooden door shut behind her.
He remained standing on the trail, even after she had disappeared into the cabin. Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out one of the buns she'd dropped. He brushed it off and bit into it carefully with sharp teeth, inhaling the sweet scent, and did not take his eyes off the cabin's door.