Prologue
The sound of heavy footsteps were heard with gallops of rushing horses like a strong wind overwhelming the trees, inclining it further the other side.
“Find the woman, fast!” one roared with ferocity, hitting the earth with force it might have quaked.
The other men lined in groups, still running...searching desperately for their escaped captive. They ought to find her.
The words spread like virus, the command hit them with vigor. Get the woman, dead or alive.
A brisk but careful stride ahead of them was trying to distance with all its might. Her brunette of a hair moved with the wind with such haste the tight bun of it loosed, some of the strands blocked her view and tangled everywhere. Knowing she wasn't going to make it in time to step on the safe ground, she made a quick decision and turned around to look for a hiding place. Her breath was shallow and deep, gasping for air as her heart cried for a rest. Her head started to throb heavily, reeling her mind into unconsciousness. But she clung to her strong resolve to live, living for a mission she has yet to succeed. Her eyes, gradually, turning slurred in every hopped over the uneven and muddy ground—feet sore and adorned with scrapes coming from sharp rocks lying, unbidden, for her; her eyes stingy from unshed tears.
She ran in hopeless attempt to lose the group of men which brutality was of their vocabulary. The hunger for a kill was tangible enough it made her stomach churn imagining what if she was found.
She was sure, if she stops at that moment, she will cease to live afterward.
With the remaining ounce of strength she had. She lifted herself and jumped at the nearest cliff. Rolling like a piece of rock, scraping her exposed skin.
Cuts.
Bruises.
Ache.
Pain was inevitable.
She was even expecting broken arms or ribs or both. She heard a crunch at her side exploding an unbearable pain. She groaned dryly, voice hoarse from fatigue. Once her body stilled, when the dizzying rolling stopped, she stayed there, hope vanishing within the deepness of her blue eyes. She closed it and waited for her end.
She heard a gallop of horses that came to stop in front of her.
She heaved some air...more so, her last breath.
There came voices sounded like coming from a tunnel...unclear and far away. After a moment, she felt careful hands touched her. Strong arms enveloped her form, lifted her with gentleness she felt herself weaker and susceptible to more danger if brought upon the wrong people.
There was a distant, aristocrat voice. "Put her in the carriage." The command was insistent, whoever with her scurried toward his Lord.
And after that, everything was endless uncertainty.
