Chapter Three | Cassandra

8 0 0
                                    

Her dress was green, like leaves on the trees. She wore a ridiculous leather satchel around her waist and her hair was pinned up in an uncomfortable looking braid. I wanted to laugh. What did this fool think she doing in these woods? Did she fancy herself a nature lover? Maybe she was going to press some leaves to hang on the wall of her room. Pathetic. 

I was furious. Who did she think she was, wandering around like she owned the place. Her skin was pale and her hair yellow (a colour I had rarely seen on hair before, only when I watched the people from the village). She carried a book bound in cloth and a quill with ink. She must have money, if she knew how to write. How silly to carry with you all that just to put into words what you could see with your eyes. Only Clara in the camp knew how to write, she was the only one who needed to know how.

The girl didn't move, but she looked excited. She stood still as I approached, cautiously trying to find any threat on her. She smiled. That pushed me over the edge. How dare she be smiling at me? Karen was gone. It should have been her, she should have been the one they took. I wanted to shout and scream at the faeries to give Karen back, that I had brought them a prettier girl, to trade with me. I didn't. Instead, I took a deep breath and spoke.

She looked startled and confused at my harshness. I was startled too. I wasn't usually quite so cruel, but I was exhausted from running through the woods all night, and I just wanted my sister back. My eyes started watering but I forced myself not to cry. I couldn't show weakness in front of this stranger.

She came closer, but I glowered at her and she stopped a few feet away. 

"I-I hope I didn't do something to offend you, kind miss, I simply came here to admire the-"

"Save it," I barked, "Just go,"

There was a rustling in the trees behind me and I spun around to see who it was. A familiar yet unfriendly face grinned back. It was Uriah, the son of the leader of a rival camp. He stepped forward and his men grabbed my arms.

"I don't think either of you are leaving just yet,"

_____________________________________________________________________________

"Get your filthy hands off me, swine!" I thrashed at my captors as they tied me to a tree.

Uriah and his men had led us through the woods for a good while before we reached the tents. That's what infuriated me. They had been in our territory. Where they knew they shouldn't be.

"Just wait 'til I tell Clara you've been in our land," I smirk, "Ooooo, she'll be furious. Not even your ugly daddy will be able to guilt his wa-"

A hard slap across the face stops me in mid-sentence. I hear a gasp to my right. Oh yeah, the village girl. This'll give her something to tell her friends. If she ever gets back home. Uriah and his father, Abraham were well known by the rest of the gypsy tribes to be cruel and merciless to anyone they deemed to deserve it.

Uriah and most of his men left to find Abraham, leaving a single guard to watch over me and the villager. Only one guard, Uriah? I thought to myself, What, you think he can take me? Because I'm a girl? I immediately started plotting ways of disabling (even killing) the skinny man in front of me. Soft whimpering interrupted my scheming. Ugh, I had forgotten about the girl.

"Stop it," I blurt, "Crying won't do anything,"

The whimpering stops.

"I-I'm sorry." She states in her posh accent. "I thought coming to the forest would be fun. An adventure like I've read in my books. I thought if I stayed by the edge, I didn't know, I-"

"Blubbering won't help either,"

She stops again.

"Look," I say, "Just keep quiet, I'm thinking of a way out," though, getting the both of us out would be difficult, especially since she was an elephant footed village girl, "I'll get us out before Abraham gets here, that's when we're really in trouble,"

"Who's -" she starts, but is interrupted by deep throated laughter.

"Really in trouble are you? Tell me girl, why's that?"

I squint through the sunlight to find a towering, strongly-built man standing in front of me. Abraham.

"Well, because the minute your stench reaches our nostrils, kind sir, we'll be dead within minutes!" I exclaim.

The smile disappears from his face. He whispers to Uriah who marches off. Abraham leans in close, so I feel his rancid breath on my cheek. 

"Listen here, girly. Your lucky your face is already covered in scars, or I'd be putting a few on there myself,"

I laugh. "It's not the scars that's keeping you. It's Clara, you're too darn scared to mess with her ward. Even you're smart enough not to anger her. I don't blame you for being afraid of her,"

His rough hand grabs the front of my dress and he pulls me closer to him. "I am not afraid of the old woman. You best keep that in mind," 

He orders the guard to take off his socks and shoves them in my mouth. 

"This'll keep you from making any more not funny jokes," 

Shame too, I had a fantastic one I think would have been perfect for this situation.

The Gypsy's CompanionWhere stories live. Discover now