Stand and Be Eaten

Chapter 10

Despite her naivety, Annabelle was not a fool–she knew that they ought to be hurrying along their way before the farmer returned with a constable magistrate in tow. As this was her first taste of freedom, she could not resist taking a few moments to wiggle her toes in the grass, strange and tickling. Wells watched her, bemused. Annabelle could feel her looking at her, watching and waiting. She did Annabelle the great courtesy of not hurrying her along, as if she understood the importance of these first tentative steps.

Reaching up, Annabelle slid the kerchief down, revealing her mouth and nose again. The air outside was clean, the morning mist clearing it and leaving a lingering dampness. "What now?" she asked Wells simply. "Am I still your prisoner?"

Wells barked out a laugh that rebounded off the nearby farmhouse. "I think we both know that I could scarcely hold you prisoner even if I wished to. No, m'lady, I believe a more accurate statement would be that I am your prisoner."

This reversal of fortune and power dynamic was so sudden, such a foreign concept, that Annabelle simply stared for a moment. She may have lived a life of wealth and privilege, but she had never held sway over anyone. This was a new and strange idea, and the words rattled about in her head, turning over and over again.

"Then...what shall we do?" Annabelle asked, feeling a little small in the long leather coat.

Wells shrugged. "I expect whatever you wish to, m'lady."

Annabelle opened her mouth, furrowed her brow, and then closed her mouth again. "I'm not sure what that is," she admitted. "I've never been asked that before."

"Well, where would you like to go now?"

"We should probably get away from here," Annabelle said slowly. She glanced at Wells again for confirmation. "Correct?"

"Likely a good idea. The farmer made quite a ruckus when he saw the mess you made of his cattle," Wells agreed.

Annabelle couldn't help but wince. She hadn't set out to hurt anyone (Liar, the wolf whispered in her ear, you knew what you were doing. You chose to murder, to maim, and it felt good.), especially not a poor man and his cows. She pressed her lips together, resolving to find a way to repay the poor fellow in some way, if she might. She had a generous amount of pin money every month, she might be able to send him some if she could ascertain his direction–

That thought stopped her short. "Where even is here?" she asked, looking about again. Not that it would do her much good, as she'd seen very little of...anywhere.

"I'm not entirely sure, to be candid," Wells responded with a nonchalant shrug. "Somewhere north and west of where we were."

"Are we very far from London, then?" Annabelle asked, disappointment evident.

"I'd say so, m'lady. Not even sure we're still in England."

"I ran very far, then?" Annabelle asked, unnecessarily.

Wells grinned a little at that, one side of her mouth pulling up. This spoiled rich girl was like a child in many ways, seeking validation and approval. "Aye, you did. Horse nearly gave out trying to keep up."

"You have a horse here?" This information perked Annabelle right up. "Might you take me to my father's house then? It was not far from where you...where you all..."

"I can do that," Wells nodded. "We'll have to go slower, be mindful of the horse carrying two of us."

Annabelle nodded in agreement, took a step, then paused again. She looked down at her bare feet, covered in dirt and dried blood. "I can't go like this," she said, staring down as if she could simply will her feet clean. "We won't make it more than a league before someone takes notice."