Something With a Prince

Chapter Eleven: Creatures and Queens

Tallethea

We waited. Monson met my gaze with piercing concern, his knuckles growing white as he gripped his horse's reins. We seemed to be sharing the same thoughts, forming a contingency plan using eyes and expressions alone. Turning his head, Monson's hair caught flame as sunlight filtered its way through the leaves and branches. Wisps fell out of his bun in waves, creating shadows in the green of his eyes, and making him appear fiercer (something I did not think was possible.) Another tense look passed between us, and Monson permitted a single nod before gently kicking his heels into his horse's side. My throat was dry, all my limbs preparing for action.

Lansing moved his horse next to mine, taking Monson's place as he went ahead, scouting out the path before us. With Lansing next to me I felt my nerves relax, as it was one less thing I had to look out for.

Monson disappeared around the bend. We waited.

I dismounted, not even bothering to look at Lansing as I whispered, "Stay on your horse. Take off toward the castle if anything happens."

Drawing my sword from its sheath upon my horse's side I canvased every tree, bush, and crevice. The weapon's weight felt like a friend in my grasp, heavy and strong. However, my palms were slick with sweat and both shoulders grew tight at the prospect of action. Air grew thin and thick all at once, and my ears pressurized as if pushed underwater. Natural sound vanished and all that I could hear was a high-pitched whine. I thought I might be on the brink of passing out, but there were no other symptoms that suggested it.

I blinked my eyes together hard, as if it would somehow make me focus. Mentally, there was nothing but a floating feeling, but my limbs were lead. A shadow moved out from behind a tree deep in the wood. Somehow that section of trees was darker than the rest of the forest. I squinted my eyes, trying to tell Lansing to prepare to run, but my tongue was dead, and my wrists strained to steady the weapon shaking in my grasp. So, I did all I perceived as possible, I stepped forward heavily and watched that shadow with all my might. It looked human in form, but there was something wrong about it. Limbs too long, wrists too thin, standing too still...

After what felt like a century Monson reappeared. I heard him galloping toward us.

"Anything?" Lansing inquired, but it was like he was standing miles away.

Horses scuffled behind me, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the trees and that thing.

"No sight of danger. Not even tracks." Monson replied, his voice twice as deep.

The shadow lifted its hand and waved then slid behind the tree it came from.

All at once, it was like sound flooded back and air made a sweeping return to my lungs. The smell of pine was almost sharp and injurious. The only heaviness that remained was in my head, like a static cling.

I winced as Lansing's voice rang out louder than ever, reverberating in my skull, "There wouldn't be tracks ahead. It sounded like the noise came from off the side, northwest, toward Tuisedor. My guess is It was deer. They are migrating toward the valley for better grazing. Besides, the horses never spooked."

A familiar feeling clung to me, worming its fingers uncomfortably into the back of my mind. I did not know what I had seen, but the more I allowed myself to analyze it the more I felt it was a trick of the light. Allowing my eyes back to the spot, I saw it was just a denser wood than the surrounding trees, forcing my perspective deeper into the shadows. The silence could easily be hunger. I had not eaten at all today.

"We're wasting time then." Skirting around the group one more time for extra measure, I got back onto my horse and nodded to Monson, "Let's continue on."