Darkness carved in bone

Chapter 36

Helen

The steady movement of the horse underneath her nearly lulled her into an exhausted sleep. But Ten's bleeding body and panicked eyes flashed before her eyes, sending waves of horror and grief throughout her body, banishing the eerie feeling of sleep. The man, Ten had called him Mørk, was holding a firm hand around her. His torso pushed into her back.

The snow on her clothes from when she had fallen into it before, had melted, and left her cold and wet. Mørk's warmth spread into her, but she recoiled from his touch and warmth, making her sit in an awkward and stiff position, trying to avoid coming in contact with him at all. Her back burned from the strain, she gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the pain in her back.

Ten couldn't be dead. Ten couldn't be dead. The mantra went on repeat in her mind. He could not be dead. She gazed at the forest around her, and it felt almost like there was a veil over her eyes, which made the world feel unreal and strange, shadows came alive as it felt as if the world spun around. The trees suddenly took the forms of horrible monsters and the wolves distant cries screamed her name, calling her to them. But there was none so horrible and vile monster as the man that sat behind her. The feeling of being utterly powerless against such an evil force weighed her down. All she wanted was to escape him and find Ten. But she was completely powerless. Distress and hopelessness filled her as she stared off into the night.

They rode for hour upon hour, passing only more forest, until the sun started to loom in the horizon. Her heart started beating just a bit harder as the sky began to brighten. She prayed for the sun to be poisonous to him, to strike him down with her rays the moment the sun breached the horizon.

Mørk steered the horse off the road and into the thick forest, her heart sinking as darkness seemed to crowd around her again. He jumped off the horse, he did not help her down, but grabbed her hands tying a thick rope around her hands and bound the rope to his belt.

She jumped off the horse when he started moving away from the horse, threatening to pull her off the horse. She felt the rope bite painfully into her skin as she tried to check if it was too loosely bound. It was not, her chest caved in at the realization. Mørk had been thorough with his work.

He raised a dark canvas between two pines to make himself a shield from the sun, ignoring her entirely as he worked. He only pulled her to him when he nestled on a sleeping roll against the cold snow. He had none for her, so she was forced to sit in the cold snow. His cold eyes were upon her, studying her again.

This all reminded her of the first night when she had met Ten. He had bound her hands as well. He had made her sit in the snow. But she had never been afraid like she was right now. Her eyes kept going to the dagger in his belt, as if she had to reassure herself that it was still there, safely sheathed and not about to draw her blood. As if her keeping tabs on that knife would grant her essential seconds that might save her life. It was not a great plan, but the best she had at the moment. She tried to get as far away from him as the makeshift tent would allow her, inching away from him, but he took the rope and yanked her back. She fell to her knees, almost face down as she had no hands to brace her fall with.

Mørk let out a mocking laughter at her peril, the sound filling her with bile and distaste in her mouth. It was a horrible sound, hearing him laugh.

Helen managed to push herself into a sitting position, but she ended up far too close to her liking to the man that lay beside her. Her entire body itched to get away from him again but feared he would only humiliate her further by pulling her back to him again.

"You would like to stay out in the sun, wouldn't you?" His voice was dark, but at certain points, his voice seemed to break crack into something that sounded slightly unhinged or uncontrolled. It was as if he tried to hide some dark part of himself from the world, but his façade was cracking. Helen knew it would smart of her to not taunt him with her insights, even though she wanted to poke at him and hurt him.