Crow

Chapter 3

Corbin's heart was racing, his heart thundering in his ears, his legs aching, and his lungs burning.

But he couldn't stop, he couldn't go back. His coat kept snagging on branches and bramble bushes. His brand-new leather shoes clogged and stuck to the muddy forest floor. He stumbled, fell into red and gold dead leaves and sodden ground, nails digging into the cold earth as sharp pain dug into his knees. He got up, taking off his ruined shoes and stockings, leaving him barefoot. They would only weigh him down. The pleasant forest of his childhood was gone, taken away with his innocence, the flowers withered and the sun clouded, whispers of childhood dreams haunting him with every step he took. An insidious melody followed him, awakening memories that broke his heart. He couldn't stop crying, broken sobs breaking the background sound of birdsong and pleasant autumn wind. He streaked mud in his cheek, wiping down his tears uselessly only to be replaced for new ones. His once put-together appearance was gone, clothes muddy and torn, hair wild with wind, sweat, and desperation. If anyone saw him, they would not know him to be the cursed son of the Maddox Manor, only one of those wildings abandoned by the world, scorned by the entirety of society. It seemed fitting, in a sense.

He didn't know where he was or how long he ran, only that this was his only choice. As he continued on his path, daylight faded, the trees mangled above him. The creatures of the forest went quiet and lurking eyes crawled down his back. The cold seeped in his bones, and hunger gnawed at his stomach. Father hadn't let him eat anything in the morning, had swept him in a wave of anxious joy to even pay attention as the hours passed. He was lost and alone and hopeless. A cold shiver ran through his spine. Everywhere he looked, eyes were staring at him. The elegant trees became gnarled and gnawed in the darkness. He jumped at every single crunch in the ground. Was there somebody behind him? Was it the wind? He couldn't know.

"Corbin," a soft, eerily calm voice whispered in his ear.

He turned back. There was nothing there but the darkness.

He couldn't turn back, he couldn't burden Father anymore. So he continued to tread his path, weariness settling over him like a heavy shroud.

He thought he would have to rest in the wet ground, sleep with a hard branch as his pillow when he saw a clearing ahead. Untamed grass and rolling hills spanned as far as Corbin could see. The sky was painted with midnight, sea-foam, and violets, golden stars and silver moon illuminating the night. The hills were hued with amethyst in the darkness, and fireflies dotted his view. But, by far, the most wonderful sight were the thousands upon thousands of glowing, cobalt bluebells adorning the landscape. His frozen, stiff limbs melted, warmth coursing through his veins.

Magic. There was no other explanation.

He paced the fields, tracing the sharp blades of grass, sensing the sharpness in the air and an acid taste in the back of his tongue. He had no choice but to take everything in, the honey-sweet, pleasant breeze and the burning hearth in his heart. The storm raging in his mind appeased, even for just a second. He steeped in peace and tranquility. For the first time since Mother, he finally felt at home.

In the quiet twilight, the soft cries of the barn-owls and the melodies of the crickets harmonized into the night. It was the song of the forest, the heartbeat of all the souls that lived there. Corbin was entranced, overcome with awe at the beauty before his eyes. This was straight out of one of Mother's tales. He could only hope she'd been able to see this. She would have loved it. He could only keep pacing, admiring every aspect of this beautiful haven.

As he continued, the grass became taller and taller, some blades reaching his chest. He could barely see the ground, his only guidance the soft earth beneath his feet.