The Quest For Hope

The Escape: Chapter Twelve

Elsa slipped her left foot from the roped that tied her legs together, grateful to be free of its biting grip. A tingling sensation ran through her legs as the blood returned. After lying still for so long, her body resisted each movement. She breathed deeply and looked around, remaining as silent as she could. Her eyes scanned the camp as she got her bearings.

All the men appeared to be asleep. She took a quick count: one, two, three, four five-only five me. With the amount of noise they had made, she had imagined more than that. It both surprised and calmed her.

Elsa tiptoed through the scattered leaves, strewn clothes, and discarded weapons as she approached the fire. Its warmth put her at ease. Despite her circumstances, she found herself studying her captors. Knocked out, either by the fighting or the ale, they appeared quite harmless.

She had pictured grotesque monsters, but these men appeared quite normal, though big, burly, and covered in hair and dirt. She wrinkled her nose against the offensive smells rising from each as she bent closer.

On one of the men, closest to the fire, didn't look at all like she pictured. Small and skinny, with scars etched in his hands, he looked prematurely old. His smooth cheeks showed him to be closer to her age, perhaps only a few years older. A wave of pity hit her as she looked at him and thought about the life he had chosen. A life of freedom did not have to mean a life of thievery.

As she turned to walk away, her eyes stopped on the orange flames. glittering behind the fire, something sparkled like jewels. A pang of regret hit her as she remembered that she's given her only bag of gold to the peasant girl in return for the work smock. In her haste, she's overpaid; a few pieces would have been sufficient. Now, as she contemplated the sparkle, she realised what that money could buy all the pieces of her plan she hadn't prepared for. It would mean safe passage through the forest, food, shelter, new clothes, and possibly a new life.

She walked around the fire, cringing as the branches broke. Even with cautious steps, her movements announced her escape. As she glanced between the sleeping men and the treasure, her heart beat wildly. 

She leaned over o grab the gold, and her heart dropped. It wasn't gold. Instead, a small dagger gleamed, it's golden hilt reflecting brilliantly in the firelight. Not her first choice, but still useful. She grabbed at it. The weighted handle felt awkward in her hand. She had handle felt awkward in her hand. She had handled knitting needled, instruments, and books, but never a weapon. As strange as it felt, it gave her a sense of relief.

She clutched the knife as someone spoke. Low words, jumbled together. She froze, waiting for a new blow to her head, but nothing came. Braving a glance behind her, she sighed with relief. It was time to go.

Lifting the hem of her apron, aware of the hidden branches, she crept away from the camp. The crackling of the fire faded as she moved away. She counted again and saw the sleeping men. On, two, three, four-one was missing. Her hair swept in front of her eyes as she spun around. 

She had waited too long. No longer fearing the crunch of breaking branches, she ran. Her heartbeat echoed as she whipped around looking behind to make sure the path stayed clear. Branches struck her, scratching her arms and face as she slipped deeper into the thick forest. She followed a narrow trail as it wove between the bushes and trees.

After a few moment, her relief changed to dread. Stepping around a tree into her path, the fifth man appeared, cutting off her route. His dark, menacing eyes glared at her. 

She scrambled back, stumbling over her own feet, feeling the rough ground underneath her palms as she fell. Whimpering, she edged her way backwards, stopping against the rough bark of a tree. It was the youngest of the bandits. Her sympathetic feelings for him disappeared as she saw the hard, hungry look in his eyes.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, grinning.

"Stop," she whispered, and then, louder, "stop!"

"Who's going to make me?" He laughed walking toward her. "You?"

Elsa kicked her legs, spraying dirt and left behind her as she ran around the tree.

"Come back!" Was all she heard. She scrambled back through the forest and broke into a run. The trees around her all seemed the same. With no sense of direction, she bolted, hoping her path would lead her home.

As she fled, the air came harder and harder to her chest. The cold created a thick fog in front of her. A cramp rose in her side. This was not what she had planned. Her thoughts raced, distracting her from the roots bulging up from the ground.

She brought her hands up just in time to break her fall. Struggling, she made it back onto her hands and knees but heard laughter behind. His chuckle filled her ears, and tears spilt out of her eyes. 

"No," she pleaded, dragging her body forward along the ground as she saw him walking up behind her. "No," she repeated through her tears.

"Oh yes," he said as he grabbed her leg. "Oh yes," he repeated, lifting his arm to hit her. 

Pain seared through her. She had only a few moment before the darkness came flooding over her again. The dagger, she thought, remembering her new weapon. The blade bit into her skin as she pressed it between her palms. She prayed that it would stay hidden as she sank back into darkness.