𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 - 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘱𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘟𝘟𝘐𝘐

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐂

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐎
___________

The silence of the forest feels almost tangible, the kind of quiet that weighs on your shoulders like a heavy cloak. There's a rhythm to the demon horse's hooves,—a reminder that you're moving, even if it doesn't feel like you're getting anywhere.

Salvus's voice cuts through the silence. "The sun is setting. We should head back." You can hear the tiredness in his tone. A hint that toll these endless days have taken on both of you.

"Okay." you agree, more to yourself than to Salvus. The word feels heavy on your tongue. There's a pull in your chest. An ache to see Emma, Ray, and everyone else.

The ride back is a blur, each step an echo of the last. There's a part of you that's left wandering, searching for a way out, a way back to something familiar, something like home.

But for now, you'll rest. You'll gather your strength and face the forest filled with demons again when the morning comes.

-

The tunnel filled with the rhythmic sound of water droplets, each one sounding like a tiny gong as it falls from the cloth. You crouch down, the coarse fabric of the cloth in your hands, and you give it a tight squeeze. A small stream of water trickles from it, creating a ripples as it meets the surface of the bucket placed carefully below.

You sit up straighter, your arm extending out as you start to cleanse yourself with the cloth now damp with cool water. Gently, you scrub away layers of dirt and sweat from your body.

The dim light from the jewel flowers in the tunnel room casts a soft light over your skin, revealing the heavy bruises from your fall down the cliff.

With a sigh, you let the soaked cloth fall to the bucket's rim, the sound echoing slightly in the empty space. Your grasp a dry towel, and you begin the carefully pat yourself dry, the fabric absorbing the dampness from your skin.

It's been twenty three days now since you've been with Salvus, twenty three days of an anxious, gnawing silence with no sign of Emma, Ray, or the man. You've searched the forest's depths for hours each day, your eyes searching for any clue that might lead you back to them, back to shelter that now feels so distant.

The possibility that they might think you've died is a thought that haunts you. Perhaps they're mourning you already, thinking you've been consumed by the demons.

You've thought about leaving a sign for them to find, to know you're alive and well but Salvus, with his knowledge of the woods and its lurking dangers, refused your idea.

His warned you about the poachers who roam the parts of the forest, preying on cattle children and delivering them to a place called Goldy Pond. The risk of falling into a trap, of becoming a pawn in a game far more sinister than any beastly encounter, is a risk he's unwilling to let you take.

So you wait, and you hope, clinging to the belief that somehow, someway, you'll reunite with your family and escape this nightmare together.

You slide into your garments, the fabric feeling familiar against your skin as you make your way out of the room, the lantern in your grasp casting light against the walls of the dark hallway.

You entered the more open area of the tunnel, noticing Salvus, his focus intent on the blade of his spear as he slides a sharpening stone along its length, the soft scraping sound a steady rhythm in the quiet space.

He looks up as you approach. "How do you feel?" he questions.

"Better, thanks." you reply, the warmth from the fire nearby inviting you to come closer. You place the lantern carefully on the ground, its light mixing with the fire's glow, and ease yourself down to sit on the ground, the fire's warmth seeping into your bones.