Orenda

For Fear

Hey guys, welcome back! I know I've been posting a lot lately, but I'm also writing another book(to hopefully be published as a hardcopy), and this is my escape from it. Don't get me wrong, I really really enjoy writing this! Thank you sososo sososo sososo much for reading and have a very nice day!

-- Ivy

"Get up, princess, and change into this," a harsh, unrecognizable voice cuts into my dreamless sleep.

Slowly, as I push myself up, the events of the night before come back to me. It was the fourth night after my kidnapping, and I had hit Johnson. He'd been drunk, and extremely dangerous. I'd knocked him out, much to the relief of the other girl there that he'd been harrassing. But, the other men hadn't appreciated my ability to fight.

I touch my cheek, wincing as I remember being hit. Of course, there's nothing after that. I'd been knocked out, and by the look of the faces surrounding me, taken to a different camp.

I stretch my legs as I stand up, recieving the clothes from the gruff man. They're pretty simple, consisting of stretchy jeans and a thin pink shirt with a few ruffles and buttons down the back. It's never an outfit that I would choose for myself, partly because I own a very meager amount of pink things, but I like it.

I change into the clothes, tossing my dirtier, but much warmer, old clothes into the back of the cave I was changing in. Hopefully someone will find them, realize they're mine, and somehow find me because of them.

Shivering, I step back outside and spot the other girl from my earlier camp. Her name is Rosie, and she's one of the sweetest people I have ever met. I catch the eye of the younger girl and smile, walking over to join her. Before I can, though, a hand wraps around my waist and yanks me back. "No thanks, darling, you'll be riding with me," the raspy voice makes me want to close my eyes and curl up into a ball to hide, it could easily be comparable with the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. The delighted malice in his tone is also detectable, making goosebumps run down my spine.

"Actually, I have orders to take her with me," the man holding me lets go, and I stumble away from him. His massive, scarred hand catches my upper arm and holds me to him.

"I never knew Rogue ever trusted newbies to carry his valuables. Why don't we ask him, boy?" the low growl is aggresive and rude, my captor is clearly annoyed.

"I don't think that will be nessecary, he told me the same thing. Rogue's orders were clear, Carson takes the girl on his horse," another guy steps up, giving the man holding me a firm look.

He and Carson both look pretty young, only a bit older than me. Compared to the tough, mean, scarred man presently holding me. Said-man grunts, "I suppose it can't hurt, must be your innitiation. But boy," his tone turns dangerous. "if you so much as put one hoof out of line of the other horses, one hoof..."

Carson nods respectfully, and I'm shoved forward roughly into the boy's hands. He twists me around and grabs my wrists with one hand, the other moving to his mouth. The sound that comes out is sharp and loud, making my wrists jerk towards me as they automatically move to cover my ears.

He doesn't seem to notice, yanking me forward. A clomping of hooves sounds from in front of us, and a beautiful horse appears. I don't know horse breeds, but it looks like a paint. It stops beside us, whinnying and tossing its head in the air. "Hey, Riley," Carson strokes the horses neck. "Ready to go?"

I let out a gasp of surprise when he wheels around and picks me up, swinging me onto the horse. He sits down behind me, kicking the horse into a trot. I look for Rosie as we join the line of horses, but I don't see her. She must be behind me, I think, trying to look over my shoulder but not seeing anything.

"What's your motive, anyways? Are you asking for a ransom?" I murmur softly, surprising myself with the boldness of the statement. I hadn't dared to ask anything like this yet, I'd barely even said a word the past five days.

I wince as a painful memory suddenly comes to surface, one that I would rather never think about again. A memory that I hadn't thought of in years, gratefully so. Carson yanks me back to the present with his even softer reply, "I'm not one of them, my lady, wait 'till we're on the open prairie."

"What?" I ask, taking the hint to keep my voice low.

Carson doesn't answer, just shifts a bit so that it's harder for me to escape. We trot down the dirt path towards a gap in the trees, which is possibly the open prairie.

Everyday we've been moving farther and farther away from home. At first, I recognized the landscape. But now, we must be eighty miles away at least.

"Hold on to the saddlehorn, my lady, it may be a rough ride," Carson's whisper is so quiet that for a moment, I think I might've imagined it.

But, as we reach the open prairie, I grip the small leather hump as hard as I can. Carson's arm wraps around my waist, holding me to him with an iron grip. He kicks the horse, giving a loud, "Ya!"

I inhale sharply as we veer away from the other horses, loping towards the farthest tree line with incredible speed. A second set of hooves sounds from behind us, and Carson's friend appears. He gives us a short nod, pulling a bow from his back to return fire from my kidnappers. Somehow, I get the feeling that these men work for the king.

"My apoligies, Princess, but this is going to be a rough ride!" Carson yells into my ear.

"I'll be fine," I shout back, struggling to make myself heard over the wind.

"Carson!" the other man is right beside us, shooting arrows back at the quickly advancing, angry horde of men. "I have a faster horse!"

"It's too dangerous, Simon!" Carson replies, kicking the horse harder.

The tree line is so close, and we're almost there. Almost. Just before we reach the safety of the thick brush, a hand wraps around my waist and jerks me off of the horse. The person pulls me onto their saddle, leaning over me in a controlling manner. Suddenly, I get the feeling that Simon isn't such an ally as Carson thinks.