Their Wife

Chapter 7 - Guessing Games

I felt as furious as a disturbed mother sow in spring.

"Open the door!"

One last time, I kicked my already aching foot against the sturdy wooden door holding me prisoner before I reluctantly gave up and slid to my butt in exhaustion. Fury subsiding, I was left with the only other emotion that inhibited my thoughts.

Fear.

"Please," I added, whispering, "you've got the wrong person."

Knowing I was speaking to comfort myself rather than to be heard, my head dropped hopelessly onto my drawn knees.

This couldn't be real. What did they want? Who were they? Maybe some not so kindly villagers from Forstal, just wanting to scare me? I must look so pathetic.

My mind was running like a hare in heat, yet I couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation of the situation I'd found myself in. The back of my skull had been throbbing since I had woken up in here. Fortunately, I had only been able to feel a bump beneath my tousled hair, no wound and no blood.

I remembered two attackers, but it'd been too dark to make out anything besides shadows. All I knew was, whoever took me had waited for me in the Ganlan Woods, struck me hard and left me locked in this dark and discomforting place. Despite that, I felt death wasn't on the agenda, at least not yet, otherwise, I wouldn't have woken wrapped in warm pelts or provided with water.

Unfortunately, in my nearly blind and panicked quest to find an escape upon waking, I had knocked the table and with it the pitcher, which had left me barefoot on a ground littered with ceramic shards, and worst of all, no water. I couldn't help but pity myself.

Why me?

Because I was seen as an easy target, a loner with no companions other than those of fur and claws? Somebody none of my own species would miss. Fair enough, I thought, I wouldn't miss them either. 

The cold became more prominent and my muscles began to shake in an effort to reheat. Not wishing to get myself sick, I got up from the floor.

What could they want?

Valuables or goods? Unlikely. Otherwise, they would have broken directly into my hut and taken what they wanted, there wouldn't have been a need to have me kidnapped.

Or were they after a confession? Did they watch me during the solstice? Gods, did they truly believe me a witch, one born of darkness, as the townsfolk claimed with such certainty?  Was I to be burned?

Yes, I had decided to lead a different life than most of society had chosen for themselves, so what, that alone didn't make me any less of a being.

Did it?

I let out a shaky breath. There was no point in playing guessing games and my mental state couldn't be trusted at the moment. I would find out soon enough.

The only source of light was a flaming torch, attached to the wall of the hallway, opposite my prison door. A securely rodded window in the middle of the door's thick wood allowed for some flickering rays to illuminate the inside of my cell.

A heap of oddly clean pelts covered one of the furthest corners. It was where I'd come to myself, not too long ago. Unlike then, scrambling through the shadows like a newborn fawn, I now felt calmer, more in control. Attentive to the details, I tried my best to become familiar with my dimly lit surroundings.

The cell itself was build of differently coloured stone slabs and bricks which formed walls, ground and ceiling. Looking up, I noticed a round arch in the stone pillars above me. The space was rather large, where the walls themselves were short and low. My body was tall but not tall enough to reach the ceiling. A larger person would barely fit, maybe even hit their head on the arching beams if they weren't careful.

Tiptoeing carefully around the sharp-edged remnants of the water pitcher, I noticed metallic shackles which hung from a wooden beam on the sidewall of the chamber. My heartbeat picked up again.

Well, it could only be a good sign I wasn't locked up in them, right?

A deep breath later, I faced away. Out of sight, out of mind. I focussed on my stinging nose instead. Gods, did it stink in here. Urine and excrement were the most prominent smells. Meaning, there had been people before me. It made me wonder if any of them had seen the sun again. If I ever would.

The air was freezing. It carried moisture which clung to the textiles of my clothes like a lifeline. My skin felt numb. I looked down. The nightly expedition into the forest had left its marks. What had once been a protective winter skirt was now a soaked, flimsy piece of fabric, held together by only a handful of fibres. One side was deeply torn, exposing vulnerable skin all the way up to my thigh.

I thought about it for a split second, then I ripped small strips on each side before knotting them tightly together. Tearing another long piece from the bottom, I waved it through the waistband and secured it in the nook of my waist. Instantly, I felt more at ease.

Once I had cuddled myself back into the promising warmth of the furs, the feeling returned to my toes and my muscles began to relax. Wondering what Dog and Fox were up to, and if they had already raided the dried meat from the pantry, I realised how similar our fates had spun. All of us were denied freedom. Just that their starvation was a certainty, should I not return. Something I couldn't allow.

My focus drifted to the air my lungs were drawing. It was cold, yes, but it gave me life. And for that, I felt one of the strongest emotions.

Gratitude.

A silent but penetrative ringing sound rendered my hearing, seemingly increasing intensity with each passing moment. A waterfall of sensations flowed down my body. Up my thigh and between my legs, an unfamiliar trail burned hot. A trail of someone who didn't belong. The realisation made my skin crawl in untamed disgust. 

One of them had touched me.

Suddenly, I heard an echo travelling down the hallway. My breath halted and I grew ears like a deer at dawn. There was a high-pitched squeak, followed again by metal hitting metal. 

Then, steps.

I was ready.

________

Author Note

Another week, another chapter.

After what felt like a sluggish start, things are about to really pick up the pace.

I'm so excited to share the next few chapters with you.

Please consider leaving me a vote or even a comment if you enjoy following Iris's predicament.

As a reader, it doesn't seem as much, (I know - I have been there) but I think any author would agree that the reader's reactions to our books mean the world.

Happy weekend,

darksuns