Unfamiliar Territory [Book One]

Chapter Thirteen | A Break in the Chain

I threw up before I was even fully awake. I leaned over and hacked into the ground. What came out was dark and sticky and only made me sicker.

I tried to get away from it, crawling in the soft grass, but I didn't get far when something caught around my neck, keeping me from going any further. It rattled in the cold air, slackened when I fell back.

A chain was wrapped around my neck, the other end around an apple tree.

The chain that connected me to the tree was held together by a padlock. The 'collar' around my throat was no more than an extension of the chain, a different padlock keeping it in place. I pulled on the chains. I hit them with what sticks and rocks I could find. I tried to cry out but the collar around my neck was tight enough to keep me from being able to get out anything more than a meager whimper.

It wasn't long before I was out of breath, my muscles aching, and the chain hardly had a scratch.

I collapsed against the tree. It was uncomfortable, with the biting bark at my back and the cold, rough chain tight around my neck, but I could already feel myself drifting off.

I felt something warm on my face. I opened my eyes and had to squint against the rising sun. I was near the top of a hill. I could see the expanse of trees below me, a clearing in the distance, maybe a lake. Nowhere did I see signs of civilization.

Footsteps approached me. I tensed up. I clenched my hands, but there was no where I could go. No energy to put up a fight. I closed my eyes and waited. For the pain, for that commanding voice.

"Made you a sandwich, in case you were up for it."

Stallion. My body protested as I peeked around the tree. He stood a good distance away, dressed in a green, long-sleeved shirt and loose track pants. His hat was gone, allowing me to see several deep scratches on his face, one long enough to reach his neck. They were pale and stood out enough against his dark skin so I could see them easily from where I sat.

"Here," he said, placing the plate with the sandwich on the ground at his feet. I looked at it then back up at him. "Sorry man, Mr. Mallard said I shouldn't get too close," he backed away a few steps, for emphasis, "He said you might have gone feral."

I stared at him without moving. It was hard to look at him, riddled with scars, but I didn't feel much beyond that, only hunger.

He stared back, but only for a second, dropping his gaze when our eyes met. I stood up and he backed away again. I walked towards the sandwich as I watched him. He wouldn't look me in the eyes but he was keeping an eye on me, maybe seeing how far the chain would go.

There was barely enough length for me to reach it. Just enough, in fact. I knelt down, picked up the paper plate, and smelled the sandwich. Ham and cheese. My stomach ached at the smell, but I restrained myself. I carried the plate over to the tree and sat back down.

The sandwich was cut into two even triangles; I picked one up and took a careful bite. It was delicious, the best thing I'd ever had. I savored the bite as long as I could before taking another. Bite after bite, I ate, slowly, carefully. All while watching Stallion out of the corner of my eye.

He watched me, in turn, the entire time until I finished and brought the empty plate back over to him, as far as the chain would let me.

He did not approach the plate until I had walked back over to the tree. Even then he took slow, calculated steps, watching me but avoiding my eyes. He picked it up and caught my gaze for a second. "I'm sorry, Foxy," was all he said before breaking the gaze and turning around.