Rosalind: Book One

17-Nightmares and Trees

Harlan sat motionless on his steed, staring off into the distance. His mind replayed the last thoughts he had had when he watched Caspian leave: What is here but nightmares and trees? His child, his daughter, he traded Rosalind for the lives of his boys. What sort of man does this? he thought.

Jacob held the reins of his father's horse and led it through the woods. The footsteps upon the snow were silent. Harlan's eyes were blind to the landscape, to the dark horizon before him and his sons. All Harlan Hershel saw was the beast's horrid features, the creature's grotesque nature. What would he tell Rosalind once they got home? Pack your bags child, I have offered you up as payment for the boys and a handful of cottontails?

Cold lingered on Harlan's face. His eyes glistened with tears. The man's dark lashes were dotted with minuscule crystals and his bones were frozen. Yet the worst sort of cold lingered inside Harlan's heart.

"My daughter," he uttered under his breath as Julian and Jacob wordlessly led him home. "My beautiful girl."

Rosalind stood in the Borgo woods, right where her father said she should. The wind plumed from the ground. A burst of flurries swarmed around her like a thousand tiny butterflies. Rosalind felt her bones turning to ice. Though dressed warmly, she shivered violently.

She had been given a new pair of fur gloves and a new fur stole to wrap around her long, warm, white coat. Both had been purchased from the tailor who had sewn them with delicate care. The fur was a dove gray, tinged with streaks of pure white. Harlan had asked the tailor what sort of creature it was and silently begged he would not be told it was of rabbit fur.

"Fox, my good sir. These lovely items have been made from the fur of a silver-moon fox. They are extremely rare, hence the high cost. But as you know, silver-moon foxes have the finest fur on this earth."

Rosalind tried to be brave. Though she put on a brave face for her father when he left her in the woods, hugged her and profusely kept apologizing, inside she was terrified of what was to come.

Rosalind ran her trembling hand over the stole as the snowflakes fell lazily before her. The tips of the fur caressed the side of her face. The snow was calf-high, hiding her gray boots in the powder of white. The hem of her long, blue dress was damp. In her grasp was her travel bag, filled with a few essentials she would need.

"I am so sorry, my child." Harlan had wept as he held onto Rosalind, begging her for forgiveness.

Rosalind's gentle words did little to calm her father down. Though terrified, she knew that she had no choice in the matter. She would not risk the beast coming for her family. Not one inch of her wanted to go but she quietly packed her bag and told her father it would only be one month. Then she would return and things would go back to the way they had always been.

A gentle wind blew a handful of snow up in the air and swirled it before Rosalind. Between blinks, she saw the flakes grow silvery wings and fly away.

"Do you breathe -" The wind brushed against her ear. Rosalind looked around but could barely see beyond the treeline for a fog blanked the woods.

Till now, she had tried to be very brave indeed, but words seeping from every tree created a cacophony of taunting.

"-the name of your Savior, in your darkest hour?"

Branches reached for the girl. Their sharp edges swayed inches from her, aching to rip into her skin and taste her blood.

The wind turned from gentle to rough and whipped around Rosalind. It bit down on uncovered bits of flesh. "Where is He in your hour of need?" it muttered.

All of the voices hushed instantly and were replaced by the sound of someone walking through the snow. Heavy boots crunched the ground. Rosalind's hand flew to her mouth and she stifled a gasp. Though the thickness of fog a shadowy form came into view.

Rosalind's fingers gripped the handle of her bag tightly, her knuckles turned white. In the deathly silence, Rosalind heard her heart beating. The steps came closer, the shadow got bigger. Rosalind drew in a deep breath. It is but a month. She thought as a tear trickled down her cheek. A month of nightmares.

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