Mirror Mirror [ONC 2021 Version]

FIFTEEN

A young boy of about eight, tending to a cauldron over a small fire near the cottage, had run to fetch the knight after she continued screaming. Why was there a boy among the menfolk?—she didn't think she wanted to know.

While she waited for the knight to return, she'd resorted to pacing the front of the cottage—some life was back in her torn body. The gathering around the clearing seemed friendly, and it gave her strength. They were obviously not henchmen. They were soldiers, all dressed in the accouterments of war. Swords hung at one side of their hips, daggers on the other; shields and helmets lay by their feet, ready to be donned. Some men—she assumed archers—had bows slung across their bodies.

Gauntlets upon strong muscular arms. Breastplates of bronze over chain-mails; their navy blue tunics peeking out from underneath. These menfolk were ready for war. To kill or be killed.

Before she could ponder who they were, she spotted the knight, mighty in his walk, and standing out amongst the horde. An aura about him that spoke: this man knows how to kill in more ways than one can imagine.

She shuddered at that thought. The knight who had snuck them out of a palace had been soft. Kind. This man—this dwarf, this knight—was frightful. Determined and dangerous.

But that did not stop her from screaming at him as soon as he was within earshot. "Where is she? Where is Millie?"

Sir Bashful's expression was unreadable.

"Tell me. Where is she? Is she okay?" Ruby stepped closer to the knight, attempting to stare him down. "She—"

"Saved you." The knight cut in.

Ruby's heart pounded in her chest. Saved me? The knight's tone was ominous, heavy. "What happened to her?"

Sir Bashful regarded Ruby a moment, and then he turned. "Follow me."

He led her through the camp, past several tents till they reached one of the larger ones near the treeline. Here, Sir Bashful entered without another word, knowing Ruby-Rose would follow, regardless. What she saw inside took her breath away.

There, upon a makeshift bed, lay Millie Hood, as if she were sleeping. Simply sleeping. Upon her, Sir Bashful had laid her red hood. Her arms folded gently over her tummy. Her chest barely moved.

"Is she?"

"No, she's not dead. Not anymore."

Ruby looked upon the knight. "What does that mean? What happened to her?"

The knight hung his mighty head then and sighed. "The merge takes a toll on the body, milady. A heavy toll. Usually one of death."

Ruby shook her head, fearfully eyeing Millie upon the bed. "But you just said she's not dead."

"She is close." Sir Bashful stepped closer to the bed, watching over Millie. "She breathes, but barely. She will not wake, milady. It's been days."