Taken

Chapter 11 (Part 1)

She was keeping something from me. Something important.

The scent of warm shit had my stomach threatening to empty the few bites I had managed to force down. It only grew worse when the next scrape of my shovel over the cobbled stall floor had the rancid scent intensifying. Still, the overwhelming odor wasn't enough to draw my focus from the nagging suspicions I was left with after my unfinished conversation with Hilda.

It was strange how I was so focused on what she hadn't told me, rather than what she had. Then again, I didn't want to dwell on the bombs she had dropped. It was easier to wonder about uncertainty than face what was certain. And with everything Hilda had revealed, it was certain that I was fucked. Despite her reassurance that everything would be fine once I was back in my realm, it made my chances of getting back to Ash seem bleaker. Plus, even if I managed to make it back, I was still fucked. I had no idea why I had initially been dragged here. Who was to say it wouldn't happen again once the wrong person clued things together? Silas agreed, which only added to the impending sense of doom forming over my head.

I was well and truly fucked. All thanks to an old lady and my fear of saying no. Though, I doubted she would have stopped there if I had.

Now all she had to reveal, was why Silas made it sound like he was as well. From the way Hilda had explained things, his reaction didn't make sense, nor did some of the heated parts of their conversation that I had overheard. How did giving me a power-boosting stone that put a target on my chest save him? Or take away his freedom?

I grunted as I lifted the shovel loaded with excrement and plopped it down into the wheelbarrow that already held a few shovel fulls from various animals I had already cleaned up after. My back already ached from carrying bags of feed and distributing it to the animals Hilda had left me to take care of, this had it spreading to my arms and shoulders.

Why couldn't Silas have finished his morning work before storming off?

A huffed snort had me sending daggers toward the source of the mess I was cleaning. Big black eyes blinked at me with judgment like they had been since I had stepped foot into the weather-worn barn. My eyes flicked up to the sharp horn protruding out of the beast's forehead, unable to stay away. It was a deep obsidian like the rest of the "horse." Despite the distinct feature, I refused to call it a unicorn. It was too terrifying to call it that. To me, he was a giant horse, the orange and red birds laying eyes were chickens, the purple and black hogs were pigs, the horned and fluffy sheep were sheep, and the normal-looking goats were goats. They all looked normal enough that I could ignore their oddities and try to reign in the constant panic I felt at feeling so lost and crazy. But only if I didn't look at them for too long. And focused on picking up their shit.

"Who are you?"

My grip tightened on the shovel and pulled it from the wheelbarrow as I turned towards the unknown voice. Holding it in front of me as a weapon, my shoulder rose towards my ears as I heard the metal wheelbarrow tip over behind me. I kept the grimace that wanted to pull at my features from showing at the wet plopping sound that signified the undoing of my progress. Today was not my day.

It seemed I wasn't alone.

The woman who had spoken stood with her hands held out at her sides in horrified shock that was written all over her face as she looked down at the simple, flowing, light blue dress she wore under a thick, heavy, midnight blue cloak that covered the length of her willowy body down to her ankles. I had splattered both with unicorn- horse- shit that I had flung with my abrupt movements.

She retched as she went to wipe at the mess with her hand free of the woven basket that had missed the splash, but stopped herself before making things worse.