By mile seven my feet are aching, and I can feel blisters forming. The joy of escape is wearing off and the truth of the situation is setting in.
When the sun is at its highest point in the sky, I stop shortly for lunch under a tree on the side of the track, the shade a welcome relief from the heat. So far I'd seen no other travellers on the road, only the occasional person working in distant fields which is a relief. The less people that see me, the better.
By mile fifteen or so, the sky begins to darken and I can't see any cottages or farm houses anywhere. The landscape has also changed. Trees are dotted around in clusters and branches hold only a few leaves each, the rest are left discarded in piles of orange and red on the ground around.
A slight shiver runs through me and worry fills me. The sky above is missing its warm blanket of clouds meaning only one thing: the night is going to be a cold one.
I continue walking into the night, the darkness a welcome cover to hide me from searching eyes sent to find me. Stars begin to appear in the heavens, a map laid perfectly out for those who know how to read them.
Its only when it becomes almost impossible to walk with my eyes open that I decide to head off the road towards a cluster of oak and beech trees, and start setting up my bed for the night.
An owl hoots solemnly into the night.
A rabbit hops into its burrow.
And I sit down on my bed of spare clothes and leaves.
Out of my bag, I take out a small bread bun that Anne stashed there, along with my waterskin filled up in the castle kitchen only this morning.
Under the stars and wrapped in leaves, I nibble on my bun, contentment filling me.
~~~
I'm woken from my restless slumber by the sound of voices beside me on the road.
"This is stupid," one grunts.
"I agree," another replies. "We should be out fighting for England, not chasing down maidens to be married in the early hours of the morning."
They're looking for me, I realise with a shudder. Lord Golding is desperate enough for an heir that he sent his knights after me. Thank goodness I'd left early.
"Surely we would have found her by now if she had come this way."
Slowly I emerge from the leaves and peek my head around the tree that I'm lying behind. In the moonlight I see two, armour clad knights seated on their horses, one grey and one dappled brown.
"Agreed, a girl like her can't have got this far on foot, let's turn back. Lord Golding can't seriously believe that she'd make it any further then here if she had come this way."
If only they knew I was right here, only meters away from them.
They turn their horses around and head back in the direction of the Earl's castle, the sound of hooves thudding fading away into the distance.
A sigh of relief escapes me and I let my head fall back against the bark of tree. I am still safe.
I look up to the moon, trying to work out how close to dawn it is. The silver crescent rests gently above the sleeping hills, her journey almost complete. Behind me, a soft grey light is beginning to break apart the darkness of the night; day has almost begun.
The chill of the early morning air prevents me from sleeping any longer, and so I instead pack up and eat breakfast on the move.
I move briskly, my breath visible in front of me. The world around me still asleep.
For hours I walk, lost in my thoughts.
The sun rises, reaches mid sky, and then continues on its way back down.
By early afternoon my water is long gone, the last precious drops drunken a couple of hours ago.
More hours pass and I begin to question my route. The road seems endless, and although I've travelled this way as a small child, my memories of the actual journey are blurred and I have no recollection of landmarks, only of my great-uncle's dear old farmhouse.
Walking quickly turns into stumbling as I climb up a hill, my steady pace long gone. My legs are not used to doing anything near this much work on flat ground, let alone climb up thousands of hills in a day.
By the top, my legs have turned into a wobbling mess, and my breathing is ragged. Just as I'm about to collapse, I catch sight of a little village dotted down beneath me surrounded by fields filled with miniature animals.
Tanhorpe.
Relief fills me, providing an extra burst of energy. I tumble joyfully down the hill and by the bottom I'm not on my feet anymore, instead I am rolling. What a sight I must be for anyone looking up at the hill in these moments. A girl, covered in leaves and mud, falling rapidly down a hill.
Bruised and battered, I slowly clamber back up onto my feet after lying for a few minutes in the dirt at the base of the hill. With a parched throat and my eyes blurring with tiredness, I hobble towards the farmhouse on the edge of the village that I recognise as my great-uncle's, the adrenaline from the hill just enough to keep me going.
With a shaking hand I reach out and knock on the door.
My vision gets blurrier and blurrier, and I only just see the door open and a figure step out.
"Ella?" I hear a familiar voice question, before I collapse in exhaustion.
A/N:
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