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6. blood on the road

When Anne woke up, she was drenched from head to toe.

The storm hadn't eased up and the wind whipped her red hair into her face. The second thing she was aware of was the numb, aching pain in her head and side. She felt dizzy and very weak. She managed to move her hand and felt her side. It was slick with something hot. Blood.

Panic began to set in as she thought of herself dying by the side of the road in the middle of the night. Marilla and Mathew would be terribly worried about her and how heartbroken would they be when they found out their adopted child was dead?

Anne knew she had to get somewhere dry and get something clean on her wound, but she could barely move and she was in the middle of nowhere. The horses had bolted. She was trapped.

Anne wondered what had happened to everyone else. Joseph, and the two riders. Where were they? Anne knew one rider had been thrown off a while back, but what about Joseph and the other rider? One had been in the crash and one had fallen back too. Was Joseph the one in the crash? He could be dead!

She gathered all of her strength and took a deep breath. Anne forced herself to sit up and as soon as she did she felt a sharp stab of pain in her side and her head spun. She groaned in agony and panted, her body aching. She grasped tightly onto her side. She felt as though she was holding her side together, or maybe it was the silver knife that was wedged in her body.

Anne knew she had to stem the blood. It didn't mean certain death, not if she could stop the heavy blood loss. She felt dizzy from losing a lot already, but there was still hope. She saw a strip of thick wagon sheet and picked it up. She took some deep breaths and imagined herself as the heroic Princess Cordelia, wounded in a battlefield. My Kingdom needs me. She told herself.

Anne drew the blade out. It wasn't deep, but it felt so. She cried out in agony and tears came to her eyes. She gasped in pain and with shaking fingers she wrapped the long strip of material around her waist, knotting it tightly over the gash. She fumbled with the fabric, tears blinding her. She hastily tore a patch off of her brown skirts and swiped at her eyes. It slipped from her hands and fell into the wagon wreckage, soaking in her blood.

It probably feels worse than it really is... Anne thought.

Her head was spinning again and she desperately gulped the cold night air. She looked up into the sky and focused on the stars, the darkness, the rain whipping her pale face. After several agonising moments, the severe nausea passed to allow a more tolerable nausea to take over.

I have to find a shelter. Anne decided.

Anne looked around. It was very dark despite the moon being out. Silver light filtered from behind the tall pine trees surrounding the road. The wagon was about ten feet away, embedded into a thick tree. Gold coins and jewellery littered the muddy forest floor and the hard gravel road. There were chunks and splinters of wood carpeting the ground.

Anne couldn't see a body anywhere. Perhaps Joseph had abandoned her here?

She stood up and grabbed onto a nearby tree branch to steady herself. Her legs shook. She felt weak and her head still pounded from the blow she'd sustained in the fall. If only she had some ice or something cold to press against it. She'd read that it was good for bumps and bangs.

Anne pushed herself to inspect the front of the wagon, where the last rider would have been. As she moved forward she saw something shining on the road. It was a splattering of blood. It had come from her wound, she expected. She winced as she moved around the wagon, closer to the place of impact.

There was no body lying on the floor, no sign of anyone at all. Whoever it had been steering the wagon in the last moments before the crash was long gone. Maybe they'd awoken and run away? They'd probably seen Anne on the ground bleeding and assumed her dead.

There was a fleeting thought that maybe it was Joseph and he'd seen her dying and left her here on purpose. After all, they weren't exactly friends. They'd spoken once and then suddenly she was helping him rob a wagon. She'd begun to suspect that the wagons contents did not belong to Joseph.

He had lied to her and left her for dead. The wind and rain beat down on Anne and she felt wretched. Anne was furious. The anger pushed her to walk back up the road the way she'd come. She had to get back to town where people were who could help her. Anne knew deep down she'd never make it in this storm and in this state, but she had to try.

For Marilla and Mathew's sake at least. They'd surely be terribly worried after her being out so late. She'd hate to think of them being worried for her sake.

...

Gilbert and Diana rode fast down the road. The wind and rain whipped at them harshly and the tall trees loomed up around them. Worry pumped hard in Gilbert's heart. Where had Anne gone? Why did she take the horse?

He prayed she was safe.

They were around 5 miles down when they came across a piece of material. It was a sleeve torn off a jacket. Gilbert looked at Diana, with a mix of hope at a clue and concern that it was a bad sign.

"Is it Anne's?"

"This is Anne's coat fabric." Diana told him. "Let's keep it in case it's a clue."

They stowed it away in the saddle bags and rode on. It was perhaps five more miles down before they saw it... a large wagon, crashed into a thick, tall pine tree. There was wood all over the road and what looked like money and jewellery too. The horses were gone and nobody was in sight.

Gilbert was off the horse in seconds, scouring the wreckage.

"Anne." He mumbled.

Diana slid off the horse and grabbed the reins, leading it over to inspect the wagon. "What's that?" She pointed to the front of the wagon, where the seats used to be.

Gilbert leaned down. It looked like paint had been splattered on the wooden planks. It was blood, he suddenly realised. Could it be Anne's?