The Crescent Hour ✓

Chapter 2. The Chase

Footsteps pounded behind her in a rhythm that matched her own. She didn’t need to look back to confirm it. Peter was following her and if she didn’t find a way to lose him, he would catch up with her.

Rows of trees lined the path and behind them stood large houses with manicured lawns. Dirt particles dotted her slippers and a warm breeze blew to her face. The town appeared ahead of her, grey buildings distorted by the afternoon heat. When she heard the galloping of hooves, she glanced back. Two of her father’s guards were following her on horseback with Peter ahead of them.

They’re too fast. I won’t be able to keep up.

They would take her back home by force and she would have to face the humiliation of running away. Her father might even forbid her from ever going out again. Determination drilled through her mind. Clara ran on, sweat dripping down the small of her back. She would not give up without a fight.

When she reached the first building, she didn’t stop to look at the signboard. Passers-by gave her strange looks as she ran past them. If she hadn’t been wearing a frilly gown of the high class, they might have mistaken her for a thief. Horses whinnied behind her and men shouted. The guards were causing a huge ruckus.

She turned at the corner of the street, her breaths coming out in short gasps. Peter jumped in front of her and she halted.

He seized her right forearm. “You’re in big trouble, Ms. Allenson. Your father will be furious when he finds out what you did.”

Stepping forward, she jabbed him on the nose with the heel of her left hand. So stunned was he that he relaxed his grip. She wrenched her arm free, thrust out her leg and hit Peter in the groin with the sole of her shoe. He cried out in pain and fell to his knees while clutching at his crotch.

Terrified of the commotion she was causing, she fled into a passage until she was far from him. Crossing the road, she ignored the women who pointed at her and whispered to each other. When she passed a grocery shop, someone grabbed her from behind and dragged her into an alley. Clara opened her mouth to scream but a hand clamped around her mouth. She struggled to break free.

“Calm down! It’s me.”

The hold loosened, and she turned to face Timothy. He clutched her hand and pulled her into a butcher’s shop. Slabs of meat lay on the display shelves by the windows and strings of sausages dangled from wooden rods. Carcasses hung from iron hooks and saw dust carpeted the floor. The coppery scent of blood and meat pervaded the air.

“What are you doing, Clara?” Timothy asked in a low tone.

“I ran away. I’m not going back home.”

His head turned sharply, blond hair bobbing to the side. His eyebrows crumpled in astonishment. One of the guards stopped at the street, the horse trotting along but the rows of meat hid them from view. When he left, Timothy scowled at her.

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying? Your father will tear down the entire town just to find you. I’m taking you back.”

The seller chopped off a fleshy stake and droplets of blood sprayed on his white apron. She swallowed as bile rose up her throat.

“I’m tired of letting Father control my life and you know it!” she replied. “I want to do things on my own. Help me escape, Timmy.”

He shook his head. “It’s not safe outside.”

“I can take care of myself.” She bit her lip. “Come with me.”

As soon as those words left her lips, she regretted it. His mother was sick and yet she had been selfish enough to ask him to leave with her. A pang of guilt pricked her chest. She opened her mouth to apologize but he held a hand to silence her.