"TO pass in the twilight..." yelled Squirrel, revealing himself. They were being rescued. Guinevere remained in her place, but stood up as she heard the boy's scream.
Walking slowly and carefully she spotted a tall man, dressed all in black who was pushing Squirrel against a tree. Fuck. He was probably with The Red Paladins, but his clothes were dark, not red.
"Leave him alone!" she yelled with anger, Guinevere wanted to do something, help somehow, but she had no idea what to do.
The man ignored her and continued to speak to Squirrel.
"I will ask you questions and if you lie I will know." She was watching this with fear, what could she do? fighting wasn't her thing and she was too tired to try and use her magic again...
"How many of your kind escaped?" he continued, still ignoring Guinevere.
" I don't know." Squirrel responded.
The man kept pushing Squirrel harder to the point where Guinevere could no longer take it. She wanted to fight him, even if she couldn't.
"Stop! If you have some humanity left leave him alone!" she yelled, her voice desperate and scared.
He finally turned to her, but she couldn't see his face, it was hidden under his hood. He looked like an angel of death.
"Do you know more?"
Guinevere took a step back, but tripped over her cloack. She tried to stand up, but her injuried leg wasn't helping. The man gripped his hand around the collar of her cloack, forcing her to stand up.
He pushed her against the cold stone, making her whince in pain.
"Guin!" yelled Squirrel worried about his friend.
"How many?"
"I don't know." she was honest.
He was watching her face, before saying "You are not fey, what are you?"
Guinevere was shocked, she wasn't fey? It was true, she never felt so close to the nature, but she always brushed it off, thinking she might be some other kind of fey. However, the girl decided to not show her confussion, going for a bolder answer.
"The high lady of sarcasm. What the fuck do you think I am?" Guinevere did a reckless thing this time, it wasn't usual for her, but this man was bringing out her daring side.
He wasn't amused at all, pressing Guinevere harder against the stone. "How many?" his voice was more demanding and dangerous this time.
"Enough to slaughter your whole cult, you scum!" Squirrel chimed in.
"If you don't tell me how many, the little one will pay." it was a lie, he doesn't harm children, but the girl doesn't know this.
"It seems like some escaped in the Old Iron Wood." Squirrel's life was important to her. There was no way she will let this man harm him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were walking for hours, tied up at his horse. Squirrel watched Guinevere struggling to walk, her leg must hurt a lot now... Her face was pale and sweaty, her hands slightly trembling.
"Where are we going?" he asked the man, but he didn't even turned around.
"I know about you," Guinevere turned her attention to Squirrel.
"The one who cries, The Weeping Monk." he continued
Guinevere's eyes widened, he was The Weeping Monk? could this day get any worse for them? will he kill them?
"You killed Moon Wings, does that make you very brave? Do you hate them because they're so beautiful and you are just very ugly?"
Guinevere hissed at Squirrel, the little boy was brave, really brave, but stupid. She couldn't scold him too much, as Guinevere herself was a little careless when she talked to him.
"Even your horse is ugly and I love horses." he continued, ignoring Guinevere's hiss.
This will lead only to trouble.
"Altough, from this angle you definitly do share a resemblance, you hedge-born naif!"
"Squirrel!"
The Weeping Monk got off of his horse. He will kill them, is this really her last day in this world?
The one who cries unties their ropes and dragges them along. Guinevere was sweating from the pain, all these hours walking did no good to her wound.
He dropped them near a tree, tying their ropes again. The Weeping Monk noticed her tired face. Her blue-green eyes were standing out against her pale face. Guinevere's skin was usually a honey color, but the blood loss and the tiredness drained out the color on her face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Guinevere was feeling half dead, her leg was hurting and that made her nauseous. The cold air was making her freeze and the memory of her father was still breaking her heart.
It was already dark, her brother should have arrived to Dewdenn by now. Tristan, how will he react to seeing his village destroyed, and his family gone? Will he be alright? Is he even alive?
Guinevere saw The Weeping Monk resting his back against a tree, trying to sleep. She decided to shot her shoot.
"Will you kill us?" no response.
"How did you know I am not fey?" still no response
"Stop ignoring me!" she said angrily, Guinevere hated being ignored.
He opened his eyes, turning to face her, getting anoyed at her inssistence.
"What do you want?"
"How could you know I'm not fey? "
"Why do you help a fey boy if you are not fey? You are risking your life." The monk avoided her question like it was something he tried to hide.
"He is all I have now." she said quitely. It was true, Squirrel was the only thing left from her past life.
The Weeping Monk watched the girl with curiosity, what was she? man blood? what would a man blood do in a fey village? He was simply curios about her origin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Guinevere was almost asleep, but she was woken up by a hand on her shoulder. Opening her eyes she saw a man, looking closely she recognised Grimm, a boy from her village.
He put his finger to her lips gesturing for her and Squirrel to keep quite. Looking around, Guinevere saw Josse, another man from Dewdenn. There was also a girl, but she didn't recognised her.
Josse stood in front of The Weeping Monk.
"Get up, your murdering pig!" what was he doing? they had a chance to kill him, a bigger chance.
"Tie him up." he continued. Guinevere saw that girl coming close to them, cutting Squirrel's ropes.
"I think we caught the big killer." The Weeping Monk was awake now, staring calmly at Josse and Grimm. He was too calm, something's not right...
"Look at the eyes, shed a few for us, brother?" Josse mocked, but The Monk seemed unbothered.
He was walking in the other direction, towards Grimm.
"Get me a nice red one, Grimm."
He was trying to insult him, but The Weeping Monk probably had no feelings.
"Ever been dragged by a horse with hot coal up its bum?" Josse is playing with fire and he is going to burn...
"Not that I can recall." The Weeping Monk was calm, like he wasn't threathned by two armed men.
"Enough! Josse-" Squirrel began to say, as the women finnished cutting his ropes, "just kill him, Josse!" but he didn't listen.
"It doesn't mean you can go kidnnaping people or burning their villages to the grave!" he said with disgust and anger. "What did you have in mind for Squirrel and Guinevere, you sick bastard?"
"They're bait."
Guinevere finally understood, it was a trap, he was going to kill them all.
"Be still, Goliath." they were confused, who was he talking to?
"Grimm, Josse, run! Run!" yelled Guinevere.
"For you." The Weeping Monk said, taking out his sword. The women quit cutting Guinevere's ropes and rushed to help the two men.
Guinevere and Squirrel watched with horror as The Weeping Monk slaughtered their friends. He was wild yet calculated in every move. The small boy tried to free Guinevere's hands, but it was all in vain. They saw The Monk coming closer to them, Guinevere backed away, he was going to kill them.
"Don't touch Guinevere!" Squirrel said, she was all he had left, she couldn't die...
The Weeping Monk grabbed her hands, cutting the rope around them. He leaned closer to her, saying:
"You tell your beloved feys what you saw here. Tell them I am coming!" Guinevere took a good look at his face, his eyes stole her attention. They were a dark blue color with markings under them. Markings that looked like tears of ash. She wanted to spit him, but choose not to, she wasn't going to ruin a small chance of survival for a reckless gesture, not again.
" Go!"
Squirrel helped Guinevere up, she tried to run, but the pain in her leg was making it hard. The small boy never left her behind, holding tight on her hand.
The Weeping Monk spared their lifes, why?