The Nightingale

Chapter Two

With the trapdoor shut behind her, the tunnel was pitch black. Natasha ran with one hand raking along the dirt wall, even when pieces of stone or tree roots pricked and tore at her fingers, and the other hand outstretched in front of her as she stumbled through the dark. She tripped forward and fell in the dark countless times, scraping her still bear feet and tearing the ankle of her pant leg at one point, but kept running. At one point, her ankle twisted in what felt like a tree root, but she kept running despite how her ankle throbbed. Despite the distance she knew she had put between herself and the entrance to the tunnel, she could hear shouts and the thudding of footsteps behind her, and she knew that the Guards had entered the tunnel behind her.

Natasha didn't need to be able to see to know that the Guards were catching up with her, but it finally seemed as if the tunnel was widening and pale blue glow began to lighten her way. Despite how her ankle pulsed, how each breath made her chest stab with effort, she pushed herself forwards towards the sources of the light. She found herself running through shallow waters, her feet sinking into soft sand that pushed into the cuts on her feet, causing her to wince as the salt and cold water bit at the small cuts on her skin. Still, she kept her pace, even as the water began to lap around her pants and weigh down the material, making it even more challenging to move through the sand that pulled her feet in.

The sound of heavy splashing behind her told her that the Guards were close, but she was out of the caves and shallow water and running across soft sand that she'd only ever seen from her perch in the willow tree. It was much more difficult to run through, she found, but trudged through even as her legs felt as if they might give out underneath her, for down the beach was a sight she hadn't expected to see.

The beach wasn't deserted, as she had expected since she had not once seen any sign of life in these waters, but instead a large fire burned down the beach, and around it sat dozens of men. Small boats were pulled up around them, some overturned to serve as benches, and out beyond the waves a large ship with black sails rocked gently in the darkness. Although she could not know if these men would help her or turn out to be worse than those who were chasing her, she had no choice. Some of the men had noticed her presence and were beginning to stand, and even if she had tried to hide in the brush or other coves from the Guards, these other men would have seen where she had hid, and there was no way she could be sure that they would not reveal her hiding place. She had no other choice but to hope that they would help her.

"Hey!" She screamed at them as she drew closer, the breath setting her lungs on fire. She looked over her shoulder as a mass of black cloaks poured out of the cave as she stumbled into the crowd of me. "Please, you have to help me. They're going to kill me." As she said the words, she knew that even though Ky had said he had been given a choice between death and joining, there was no second option for her at this point. Ky was dead, she was sure of it by the way he screamed as she ran from him, and she would be next if she couldn't convince these men to help her.

A man close to her, looming over her by at least a foot when he stood up, looked down his cragged nose at her, sneering as he said, "And what makes you worth of killing?" He sized her up as the men around them laughed, evidently amused at the idea of her being capable of being a target. Natasha felt her hope begin to slip away as the men around her ignored the threat in the form of the quickly approaching black mass of Guards.

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, to beg, but the next voice that she heard was not her own, and it stopped her from speaking.

"What's going on?" A young man emerged from the depth of men, and as he spoke the others stood and looked at him. Natasha knew right away he was their leader, despite the fact that he was younger than many of the men standing around them. The way every man looked to him, how those who were still seated rose to their feet at his voice, and how those who were already upright stood a little straighter when he approached, was a dead giveaway. If she needed to confront anybody for aid, it was this man.