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Old Prologue

(This was a prologue from a story I was making a few years ago. I only got to Chapter 1 then I completely abandoned it. So Please excuse the grammatical and spelling errors you may come across)

"Get him!", The deputy of the men in armor demanded. Chasing the frail peasant along with his nine-year-old daughter through the woods and to their cottage was-of course-a tough state to be in. Well, that didn't matter anyway in the wretched kingdom. No matter who you are you were struggling for survival. But the poor father and daughter had it worse. Holding the child tight in his slim arms, he made it home, blocking the door and windows with whatever he could find. The guards would easily bash through the barricade but the man needed a little time. The house was stripped of everything. Every crumb, clothing, and weapon was all gone, nowhere to hide the Raven haired girl, the last hope for the Strange family. Then it hit him. The bomb-shelter he made for emergencies sat at the back of the cottage. Enough space for his daughter and well hidden. The child buried her face deeper into the crook of her father's neck as he opened the hatch. "No, I don't want to go!", The nine-year-old cried. He set her gently into the shelter before

kissing her head for the last time. All she heard was the sound of the lock engaging and the banging coming from the front door of the cottage.

She silently cried, listening carefully to the noises coming from outside of her hiding spot. Her heart dropped. She heard a scream then a loud thud came quickly after. No. Was all the girl thought. He was gone. Just like the rest. More tears welled in her green eyes. The Queen's guards' footsteps sounded rushed. Sounds of things getting knocked down as they searched. "get his body out of the way!", one of the guards demanded. The sound of clashing metal came from above the child. She froze and covered her mouth to hide her sobbing breaths. The guard above her stayed standing silently, right on the hatch. Almost as if he knew the bomb-shelter was there under him. After a couple seconds, he finally trotted off with the other guards.

"There's nothing here, She must have run off. That won't matter anyway. She'll die when the monsters get her", A guard said carelessly.

"But the Queen wanted her alive", another reported back.

"Then we will tell the Queen and wait for her orders"

And with that, they slammed the heavy oak door and left. The girl slowly opened the hatch and crawled back up into the room. Her face red, and her eyes swollen from the crying. She slowly turned the corner of the room she was in and saw the limp body of her father. He had his back

against the wall and his arms laid at his sides. A large red, bloody streak was showing on his neck.

'Maybe the guards had gashed him in the throat to make it quick'. The little girl though.

She couldn't handle the sight of her now dead father. Running out the backdoor, she headed for the woods. Not caring about the danger of being alone in the forest. Branches slapped at her face, making her trip. But nothing mattered at that moment. No one left to protect her. No home to go too. And no food. But, being afraid of dying, she still continued to live in fear. Then as she

went into deep thought, a large twig hit her square in the face. Making her stumble back. And just as she wanted for a long time, unconsciousness finally took her in. Leaving her lying alone, in the dark forest.

• • •

"What is that?..", A small voice was heard. A dirty blond haired six-year-old stumbled upon the unconscious child. The girl studied the child's features. A plain black dress with

homemade white stockings: No shoes: and pitch black hair in high pigtails. The wind rustled the half-dead tree, causing a large branch to break. With quick thinking, she leaped into action and pushed the unconscious body out of the way. She moved her dirty blond curls out of her face as she sat up and took a brief glance at the broken branch, then back at the girl. "Is..she dead?",The blonde asked herself before checking the pulse on her neck. Still beating. Her blue eyes widen with hope, grabbing onto the collar of her dress and lightly shaking her. "Wake up! Wake up!"

The limp body slightly shifting. Slowly she opened her eyes but as she was coming back into consciousness, the girl shrieked. "W-who are you?!", The raven-haired child questioned. She quickly backed up from the other's grasp. "I'm Beatrice! And im ten. Who are you?",Beatrice asked with glee to see another child almost her age. The other sat still with wide wondering eyes. "I'm...I'm Sally, I'm nine..", Sally responded as she straightened up. Sally studied Beatrice's features, not listening to her rambling. She had shoulder-length hair with a dirty faded pink dress. Beatrice also had a ripped off clothing piece tied tightly around her shoulder. Slight blotches of dark blood bled into the cloth. "So where are your parents?",Beatrice asked as she helped her and Sally up. Sally's thoughts now swarmed with the violent image of her father's dead, bloody body. The sounds of screaming and clashing medal-filled her ears. She mentally shook the memory off. "My parents are dead..",Sally spoke slowly as tears formed in her eyes. A single salty droplet fell from her face. Beatrice patted Sally's back lightly. "Sorry for asking. But no need to worry! I never even seen my parents. But may I ask how they died?",Beatrice asked awkwardly. Sally hesitated but spoke again. "My dad was killed by the Queen's guards. And my mom. I never really knew her that well. My dad told me she died from an unknown deceased when I was two". Beatrice felt a blush of embarrassment and shame cross her face. "I'm sorry for proding you--let's find somewhere safer".