Anam Cara

The Champion Travels to the Past

The wind whipped through his tawny feathers as he soared over and through the canopy of trees following the dark-haired figure's progress through the forest. How fortunate that he would happen upon such a beautiful specimen just when he thought he would have to attend the festivities empty-handed...again. Hopefully, this one would last longer than the others but they never did.

Jareth dipped into the trees to get a better view of his prey. He felt weightless as he darted over and under branches, weaving through trunks trailing just behind her. He could sink his talons into her back with ease any moment, ripping great red stripes into her flesh. Not yet.

Her fear and desperation were palpable. The way her eyes widened in dread. Tiny puffs of breath visible in the frigid air as she ran. Small grunts as she pushed her body to the limit. Her heart rapid as it called out to him from her beneath her breastbone. Delicious. What other tasty delights would he have from her?

Curious, though, that she would run. As if she knew what he was. Who he was. But that was impossible, although, he would love to educate her thoroughly once she was firmly in his snare. But for now, he would let her run. The exhilaration of the hunt was the only time he ever felt truly free and like the veritable hedonist he was, he would prolong the pleasure as long as possible.

Sarah trampled through the snow, slipping on roots and underbrush hidden by the glittering white that covered the ground. Her loafers were soaked through. The cold in her feet caused shooting pains with every step.

Snowflakes caught on her lashes blurring her vision even more than the tears that threatened to spill making it harder to navigate her way even though she had no idea where she was going. But the sound of wings in the wind spurred her on.

Why didn't she listen to Torren? When would she ever learn not to run head first at a problem but to take a step back before she acted? She was so stupid. She should have just waited long enough to dress appropriately at the very least. Let Bracken pack some food. Say goodbye to the gang.

Oh my god, my family. She should have seen them one last time. No, there wasn't time for any of that , she reminded herself.

It was too late now for regrets. Impulsivity had once again gotten the best of her, but it would not defeat her anymore this time than it ever had. She could do what she set out to do with a little bit of determination and luck.

The tree line disappeared behind her as the world opened into a wide lane. She paused to get her bearings in the bright winter sun. The clattering of wheels and hoofbeats sounded to her left.

Hooves cut deep gouges into the hard-packed earth. A team of black stallions pulling a carriage reared as the dwarven driver dressed in a black fur-lined cape and hat pulled on the reins. Screeching whinnies split the air as they stopped mere inches from stomping her to death.

The black lacquered door of the carriage swung open. A tall elegant Fae existed, his honey-brown hair flowed down his shoulders on his right while the left was braided intricately towards his back. He wore a powder blue cape with soft silvery fur lining the edges that matched the embroidered coat and breeches he wore.

"What is the emergency, Greydon?" he asked the driver.

"A woman, Your Highness," was the grim reply as he worked the reins keeping the team at bay.

The Fae stepped closer, rounding the front of the horses. "A woman?" He grabbed the bridle of one, murmuring calming words. The horses settled, no longer gnashing the ground with the hooves and grunting with annoyance at the impediment in the road.