Ruins of Camelot

Chapter 6

Gabriella rode through the remainder of the night, turning west, away from the thoroughfare, and navigating by the great northern star. After her initial, thunderous rush, she was soon reduced to a careful cantor along wandering paths, deer trails, and even through unmarked forest. The night air was cold, drying her sweat and reducing her to shivers as she rode onwards, still unsure exactly where she was going or how she would get there. She only knew for certain that she had to maintain a westerly course—the direction from which the Army remnant had returned.

Eventually, as the sky began to grow faint, rimmed with pearly pink light beyond the trees, Gabriella stopped. She was exhausted, both from lack of sleep and her lengthy ride. She slid from her mount, patting his flank wearily, and tossed the reins over a branch. Her legs trembled beneath her, and her middle ached abominably from the abuse of the ride so soon after the rigours of childbirth.

After tending to her horse, she opened her light pack, unrolled a blanket onto the dewy ground, and fell upon it as dead. After a minute, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the pinking sky, seen through a lace of branches and dwindling leaves.

A little sleep, she promised herself. Just a few hours. That's all I can afford. I have to hurry if I am to get there in time...

But even as she thought these things, despite the lumpy coldness of the ground and the dew that dripped all around, her eyes drifted shut.

The pink rim of the horizon brightened, spread, and then grew brilliant with the revelation of the rising sun. The dew sparkled on the weeds and dripping dead leaves. Soon, the air began to warm, and the dew turned to mist. In the trees, the birds began to chorus, first as a twitter, and then a chattering cacophony.

A scuffling sound arose from the weeds near Gabriella. A drift of dead leaves fell apart as a nose emerged, sleek and red, whiskers twitching, followed by the black eyes of a female fox. The vixen spied the sleeping human some distance away and whined to herself. After some secret inner struggle, she leapt nimbly out of the pile of leaves, her black-gloved feet making no noise on the grass, and circled cautiously closer, alternately growling and whining softly. She raised her head, spied a tiny glitter of green, and became silent. The glitter came from the shadows near the throat of the sleeping human.

More confidently now, the vixen approached. She stopped near Gabriella's head, sniffed her hair and cheek. Apparently satisfied, she perked up her ears and looked around, her bright eyes scanning the misty valley. Finally, neatly, she lay down, curling herself around Gabriella's head and tucking her tail under the young woman's chin, where it met the fox's black nose. The vixen drew a deep breath and snuffled as she let out it, relaxing in the climbing sun.

The day began. Beneath it, helplessly and fitfully, accompanied by her strange companion, Gabriella slept.

When she awoke, the sun was a huge, golden ball, halfway between the horizon and the sapphire dome of the sky.

She was sore and stiff but instantly roused herself, forcing herself upright and rolling up her blanket. Strange dreams still clouded her thoughts, weird visions of Darrick and the Little Prince, Sigrid screaming for the guards, herself being caught by them and dragged along to Herrengard, where death awaited them all. Even stranger, she recalled dreams of being watched in her sleep, as if all sorts of creatures, from scuttling spiders to great forest beasts, had crept past her, dipping their own wild thoughts into her sleeping mind. Impatiently, she shook herself, clearing her head and preparing for the day.