Beast and Beatrice

Chapter twenty-seven- Beatrice

Beatrice shivered with cold. She wished she still wore Sissy's warm blue cloak. The night air had taken a distinctly chilly turn and her thin cotton blouse wasn't meant for warmth. At least she could be thankful she still had Gilbert's shirt tied around her waist. Her legs were covered even if only in light linen. Not that it made her predicament any more bearable.

  She wriggled in place and once more cursed her own stupidity. If only she hadn't slipped away from her warm, comfortable bed at Gilbert's side to tend to nature's call, she wouldn't be in this situation. Sitting here in this burned-out building, trussed up like a poultry ready for the pot. The bindings were so tight she could barely move. Her jaw ached already from the gag tied round her head and her hands and feet were going numb. All because she'd been so focused on relieving herself she hadn't noticed the rotund Narwhal hiding in the shadows. Not until he grabbed her from behind, gagged her with a piece of cloth and dragged her away. How the portly shopkeeper had escaped the Sheriff and his deputies, she had no idea. She could only pray someone noticed, and soon. Not that it made much difference to her present situation.

  At least Narwhal hadn't thought to blind her and for that, she could be thankful. But it was so dark she could barely see anything anyway. If only morning would break. She knew it was close. The sky was beginning to lighten but it was still very dark. How Mr. Narwhal could manage to see what he was doing, she had no clue. But she could hear him moving around, huffing and puffing like a steam locomotive, softly cursing as he shifted charred rubble in search of something. She had no idea what he was looking for and she was certain she didn't want to know. She was only thankful he left her alone. Other than trussing her up and dragging her here to this part of town, he'd pretty much ignored her. Almost as if he'd forgotten her. She prayed he had.

  Beatrice sat pretty much where he had placed her in the corner of this burned-out wreck that looked like was on the verge of collapse. The only solid thing in the place was the cold stone floor. Everything else creaked and groaned with the faintest stirring of the air. Every now and then dirt would rain down and she had to close her eyes against the grit, hoping and praying whatever structure remained over her head, stayed there. She feared the slightest breeze could knock it all over.

  Again, she glanced around, noticing more details as the sky slowly continued to lighten. Surely there was something she could use to cut these bindings. If only she could loosen the twine around her wrists, she might untie herself and escape. Determined to do just that she lifted her bound hands as far as the bindings would allow, stretching the twine until she felt it digging into her flesh. Then, with a gasp of pain, she lowered her arms and attempted to wriggle her hands free. There was a small amount of give but not enough so she tried again and again until she felt the bite of the twine digging into her skin and blood trickling down her arms. But the cord was too strong and panic was eating away at her confidence. She had to get away from here and she couldn't depend on anyone else to do it for her.

  No doubt Gilbert would waken soon and realize she was missing. But he had been so ill and was sleeping so deeply when she snuck away, that it was highly unlikely he would be coming to her rescue. There had even been several men awake and watching over the sleeping villagers. She had noticed them when she snuck away to relieve herself. But she couldn't count on any assistance from them. They didn't even know she was in any danger. If only she could have raised the alarm before Narwhal had managed to drag her off. But she hadn't. She couldn't count on being rescued. There was no sense dwelling on what she could have done or should have done. She had to focus on the here and now. And why should she have to depend on anyone else? Better to focus on rescuing herself.

  With renewed determination, she wriggled and shifted, trying to find some give in the cords. She gasped and flinched when something sharp poked her in the hip. A glance over her shoulder and she spotted something sparkling. She stared hard at the shadows until the shapes came into focus and she discovered a broken shard of glass sticking out of an old frame. It must have once been a large window, smashed either by the heat of the fire or the collapse of the wall it had hung on.