Long Live The King

Epilogue

The Hounds

She woke to the distant whistle of hunters and the barking of hounds.

Beside her, another body jolted awake, a tangled nest of black hair and wide eyes. She read the unspoken questions in those eyes: do we run?

How far away were the dogs?

Was this a normal hunt?

Was she with them?

Rena scrambled across the room quietly on all fours and peered out of the gap in their little hut. Their home, while high in a tree, was easily visible if someone thought to look. Her main worry, though, was the obvious remains of their fire from last night, and the latrine not far away from where they slept. The signs of habitation were far too obvious. We've gotten too comfortable here.

As she peered down she saw no one. But she could still hear them. They were getting closer. She looked back at Robin and shook her head. No people. No dogs. Without a moment's hesitation he jumped up, grabbed her arm and pulled her to the makeshift door. Together they ran out to a swaying rope bridge, racing silently across the wooden slats. Just as they had done a thousand times before, the pair worked in a synchronised harmony, sawing away at the ropes until the bridge collapsed away from them. The wooden slats crashed against the bark of the neighbouring tree, and the dogs became frantic. The barking grew incessant. Desperate.

As silent as mice, the two fugitives climbed and leapt amongst the trees, always making sure to find a strong branch, always maintaining an unearthly silence as they slipped like shadows from tree to tree.

It was only when the sounds of dogs had faded to nothing that they dared climb down to the ground. And it was only then that they realised their mistake.

They had reached the one road at the edge of the forest. The King's Road.

The road that served as the boundary between the forest – the King's hunting grounds – and the farmland, where the peasantry lived and worked their entire lives. These lands were so flat and vast that everything and anything could be seen for miles upon miles. It was in that moment, staring at that vast expanse, that Rena knew in her gut they were fucked.

The farmers had been given plenty of incentive to find and capture the two vagabonds. Those who could read knew the price on their head; that kind of money could lift a man from peasantry to nobility. It meant the difference between eating with the pigs and eating like a pig.

No one would turn that down.

And now the hunt was in town.

"Robin." She muttered. "This is wrong. Something's very wrong."

There was a brief silence. "I know."

He moved, standing with his back pressed against hers. They had always scouted hostile terrain together. She knew his body language. She knew the meaning behind every stance and every shift he made, without ever having to look at him.

So when his body tensed, and his back pressed against her own, she knew what he could see without turning her head.

"It's her."

He pressed against Rena, pushing her away from the beaten track towards the uneven fields.

"Where do we go?"

"I don't know. Just move. Go, go, go."

He span around with one arm wrapped behind her back, ushering her forward as he began to run. He couldn't risk her falling behind. Whatever he did now, he had to keep her safe.

But the sounds of the horns grew loud again. The dogs returned from the trees. He could hear men shouting, jeering, laughing. And then, in one heart-squeezing moment, the worst sound of all began. The dull thud of hooves on soil.

He looked at the landscape before him: no houses nearby, no rivers or streams, no easy access to the forest...they had nowhere to hide, and only their bare feet to carry them.

"Oh God, oh fuck, oh shit, fuck, fuck..." Rena choked beside him, spitting out the metallic tasting saliva that had gathered in her mouth. More hooves joined the ones behind them as the men rushed their horses on, yelling to their dogs to join them in the hunt. More than once, Robin's arm pressed against Rena's back made her lose her footing; her ankle twisted, her legs were sore, and she knew she couldn't keep going for much longer. She needed to stop. She had to stop.

As their panic overwhelmed them, neither of the fugitives noticed the bedraggled skeleton of a man working the fields, watching them with a ravenous hunger. He hadn't eaten in days. As the two came closer he charged at them, swinging his scythe against Robin's knee. The boy yelled out and fell, landing full force on the unsuspecting Rena. The farmer lashed out, hitting them again and again, yelling out with each blow. Neither fugitive screamed, nor made a sound; every attempt to move was met with pain. They tried to scramble away through the mud and the dung, but he knew their game and he knew their value. The farmer stomped, hard, on their hands and their feet, relentless.

"Enough."

The voice that spoke was not a voice you would expect to hold such command over an audience. It was light, relaxed; you would think they were children, misbehaving and being lightly reprimanded for it. But this voice struck the fear of God in all and every, and the farmer fell to his knees, trembling.

"Forgive me, majesty. Your prisoners..."

Rena realised she could the breath of a horse, panting furiously into her hair. As she looked at the ground around her, more and more hooves gathered.

"Sir Knowles, lead this gentleman away. He has served his kingdom, take him to Charming Manor. They will know what to do."

"Yes, m'lady,"

As one set of hooves retreated, there was a brief moment were Rena was filled with a sense of dread for the man, but the moment was cut short by a scream. Rena pushed herself up enough to see a large brown dog biting at Robin's face, its teeth scraping his cheeks. His hands reached for its mouth, ignoring the pain as the jagged points scraped at his skin, just desperate to keep them away from his neck. Rena reached out to help him, and another dog lunged at her arm. Teeth snapped at her, left and right, driving her to sink further down. She covered her head and neck, burrowing down into the mud. Robin had stopped screaming. Something told her that he was doing the same thing, pressing himself as close to the safety of the earth as he physically could.

This is it. Death by dog.

There a clap of hands, and the dogs were dragged away, snarling and growling. There was a creaking of a saddle, the sound of boots hitting the ground, and an altogether fed up sigh filled the air.

A brown leather boot gently hooked under Robin's chin, forcing him to look up. Gritting his teeth, he looked up at the woman who'd beaten them after fifteen years of hunting.

Staring down at him was a woman, with smooth skin and beautiful blond hair reaching down to her waist. She was the epitome of beauty. An angel.

"Usurper." Robin spat.

A smirk spread across her face. She crouched down, stroking the hair out of his eyes as she pressed her lips close to his ear.

"I think you meant to say 'my Queen'."