VILLAIN

Chapter 23

 "So who exactly is this Scarlet girl?" I asked as we continued our trudge through the Neverlandian forests.

We'd been walking for what felt like several years, but in reality had been just over two days. Our food supply was dismal and our progress was painstakingly slow, what with Marcelline and Muriel. I felt a stab of shame at my frustration, because they really were trying as hard as they could – and they'd certainly improved. Our rest stops became less and less frequent, and our pace had quickened, but still it felt like we were merely crawling through an endless expanse of forest. It was hard not to get discouraged when the only thing we'd seen for the past two-and-a-half days were trees, trees, and more trees. The days seemed impossibly long, and our conversations were few and far between. We had yet to emerge from the forest – or even to see or hear the occasional village in the distance – and I began to doubt that we were even moving at all. Perhaps it was some sort of evil trick, and we had really been just trudging over the same stretch of land for the past two days without ever getting anywhere. Or perhaps it was all a horrid dream, in which I was perpetually stuck in the Neverlandian forests. I found myself almost hoping it was, that way I could at least have the hope of waking up.

But sadly, it wasn't a dream – or at least, if it was, I had yet to wake up. Max kept promising we were only a day's journey from the border, but we never did seem to actually reach it. After a while, Marci's relentless optimism aside, everyone stopped believing that today was the day. We had settled into a mind-numbing monotony, the only relief the meager eating and sleeping times – although even those were disrupted by the shifts of keeping watch we had all agreed were necessary. Needless to say, by day three, I was beginning to tire of our endless routine. When walking in perpetual silence had become simply more than I could bear, I finally posed the gnawing question in my mind.

Max snorted haughtily, his strange behavior from a few days ago all but forgotten.

"Someone's jealous," he remarked.

I put my hands on my hips indignantly. "I'm not jealous!" I protested.

He only smirked. "Are you sure about that?"

I groaned. "Just tell me who she is already."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll...I'll bring a curse down on you!" I threatened ominously.

He quirked an eyebrow. "If you can bring curses down on people, then why, pray tell, did you neglect to do so in the dungeons?"
I faltered, my bluff falling apart already. "I can't...er...perform magic indoors?" I tried, but it sounded stupid even to me.

Max snorted. "You're a horrible liar. Although," he added, grinning. "You make a very convincing witch."

I rolled my eyes. "Listen, it got us out of there alright, didn't it?"

"Well...most of us anyway," Max agreed, grin growing. "There's a bit of my stomach that still hasn't quite recovered from that kick of yours."

I cringed, recalling the way he had recoiled at the impact.

"Whoops."

He laughed. "Whoops? That's all you have to say for yourself? I've a foot-sized imprint in my side because of you."

"Well I've five finger-sized imprints on my neck because of your father!" I defended, then immediately regretted it as Max's joking smirk vanished.

"I'm sorry, Max, I didn't mean to –"

He waved away my apology. "It's not your fault. Well...this part isn't, at any rate. My father is just...a miserable, conniving old man."

I chewed on my lip, mentally kicking myself for ruining the lighthearted conversation. I had nothing to say to that, so I decided a change of topic was the best thing I could do.