Wicked Hunt

Chapter Five, Part III

Halle: The Lost Queen

"They go into the woods?" Halle asked incredulously, thinking of the endless sinister trees.

"There are other rituals which must be completed in order to gain the stag's blessing and approval for the use of his forest."

"I see," Halle said again, even though she still did not fully understand. She saw her toes peeking out from beneath the bottom of the gown.

"Shoes will not be necessary," Dot said, then sank back down onto the chair. She seemed tired and exasperated. Halle slowly turned away, back to the mirror to keep from bothering her. There was so much she still did not know.

A low thrum resonated from outside. Halle swallowed and glanced toward the window, her heartbeat picking up. The steady thrum again. The hair on her arms raised, tiny alert needles of anxious energy.

Thrum. Thrum Thrum.

"The drum beckons you." Slowly, Dot rose. She pushed her blonde braid from her narrow shoulder and furrowed her brows. Waiting. Listening for a sound.

Halle blinked and let out a quiet breath in the silence. Then, the drums again.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

Dot snatched the princess's wrist and tugged her to her feet. She led her to the door and shouldered it open. Instead of walking out into the hall, the maid just gestured for Halle to go. She blinked.

"Where... what do I do?"

"Follow the drums," Dot said as she gently began to close the door. "They will guide you." Right before the door was shut, her eyes grew wide in panic. "It is the only way," she hissed before slamming the slab of wood into the frame.

Halle jolted forward, her heartbeat now keeping pace with the drums in the distance. The smell of iron burned her nostrils, a promise of some ancient magic lingering in the air.

Thrum. Thrum Thrum

They were getting louder.

Dom's never going to believe this, Halle thought as she felt around and gripped the cold wall with her sweaty fingers. Gingerly, the princess eased her way down the stairs. The hall was devoid of all sound, except for the drums beating in the distance. Torches were snuffed, the scent of ash hanging in the air. It clung to the roof of Halle's mouth as she breathed, tasting of charred wood. As she passed into the Great Hall, she saw the grey outline of Clive's throne sitting comfortable in the darkness.

It was strange to be so utterly alone in the hall. The only light was an open door off to the side, the wind gently whistling to her. The drums echoed through the shrill noise of the breeze. It tossed its rope of entrancing harmony out to her, wrapping it around her and pulling her along. She moved absently, her footsteps melting into the same rhythm as the drums. Emerging from the castle, Halle was instantly in a dense cloud of smoke, drifting up from a fire in front of the forest. The golden and russet flames danced against the blackness of the ominous trees, their gnarled ancient faces watching her as she came. She stumbled down the path, the drumbeats rising and falling in a deafening cacophony.

A thin man stood along the path; his face covered by a nondescript brown mask with curled stag antlers curving above his head. He held a collection of branches and flowers in his aged hands. Something told her to stop before him. Shakily, she paused in front of him, her eyes focused on his chest. Hesitantly, she raised her head up. He held his hands upward, a headdress made of leaves and twisted twigs poised above her head. It was a circular affair of stark curled branches interwoven with pale primroses and deep red roses. The man placed the crown upon her head, and something within Halle clicked into place. She felt a strong longing pulling her toward the forest. Her eyes cleared, and the smoke no longer stung her throat. Her back straightened, and she carefully made her way past the masked man. A sense of calm overtook her, lulling her mind into a false tranquility.