Into the Woods

Chapter 8

Lance wasn't sure how long they'd been running, but to his aching lungs and straining muscles it felt like much too long. He knew that he'd slowed down considerably, and yet they were always just right at the edges of his perception. A flash from their brightly colored garments. A hint of a sweet, flowery aroma, so separate from the dusky scent of the deep woods. A distant trill of laughter, at times hard to separate from the playful chirping of the many birds. All of which pulled him inevitably in one direction.

And perhaps it had taken his oxygen deprived brain much to long to realize this wasn't about catching them at all; to ask the question; wondering where they were leading him.

Regardless hope drove him onward.

A laugh sounded to his far left. But as he pivoted his legs finally gave out. His knees buckled and pain shot up from his ankle. If not for the wall that seemed to rise up out of the forest itself, Lance might have fallen. Thankfully his face, followed in quick succession by his shoulder, broke his dive.

Varying degrees of pain flashed through his system from too many sources. The boy blinked back his tears, he didn't have time for them. Already he could no longer hear the tell-tale laughter of the two otherworldly women.

Not giving himself even a moment to recover he stumbled onward, bracing his hand against this wall for support. If it wasn't there he wasn't sure if his ankle would support his weight at all. Even with it's reinforcement the boy still limped along, cringing with each—

--wait—a wall?

Where did that come from?

Lance paused and finally looked around. It made sense, now that he was actually looking at it. The material completely camouflaged it within the woods. It was an old-fashioned log cabin. The boy struggled to step back, and his mouth fell agape as he was finally able to take in the full scope of this picturesque lodge before him. Even though it felt as if the simple home had materialized right from out of the forest he knew that it hadn't (right?) that someone had to have built it (right!) No matter what he told himself it was hard to believe, for it could have, it might as well have.

Maybe he was simply losing his mind.

It wouldn't be the first time this thought had occurred to him after all.

Regardless this didn't look like a witch's abode to Lance. the boy had imagined the it would be made of wood yes, but not like this. In his mind it had been shingles of all different types and shades, laid over each other in a half hazard manner that invited chaos. Or perhaps rough stones, stacked in a way that looked as if they didn't quite fit together. With tall angled windows and a steep gabled roof.

There was nothing ornate about this shanty though. Nothing overtly magical. In fact it was kinda.... Boring in Lance's opinion. It was a simple, practically barren, single story abode, the timber fitted together like the old toy Lincoln logs he used to play with.

Neither of the fae women were in sight and he couldn't hear them either. Though he kept both his ears strained and his eyes peeled as he continued to hobble around the corner of this cabin in the woods.

With each new step however more pain lanced up his legs, igniting nerve endings like blades of fire and ice.

A curse word the likes of which would have even his older siblings snickering, and earn him a slap upside the head with la chancla, ripped past his gritted teeth.

Before his tired mind could scramble after a plan for what he should possibly do next a resounding crack resounded all around him, shaking him to the bone and echoing off through the trees. Lance startled, almost falling over as he accidentally put more weight down upon his injured foot. The yelp he couldn't quite hold back was covered by another reverberant report disturbing a number of small colorful birds from the nearby trees, all taking flight in a sudden burst, voices shrill with irritation.