Fugitive

Sounds of dogs and men with long swords faded into the distance. A seventeen-year-old Islana sat shivering in the cold dark cave, not daring to build a fire for fear of the ones hunting her circling back around and seeing the light. Not daring to sleep for fear of animals or the cold putting an end to her life for good. It would be another long night, soon she would turn eighteen not that the girl had celebrated her birthday in years but it would also mark almost two years on the run. Two years of nights like this one.

Each season brought about its own problems. Summer was hot and there were numerous bugs that liked to feast on human flesh. The days were long, more daylight meant more time to keep on the move but also made it easier to get caught. Winter was cold, dark, dreary days. No bugs. Less daylight to be caught in but also less time for hunting and forging wasn’t possible. It was that time of year when caves, like the one currently inhabited by the redhead, were most likely to be occupied by other creatures. With spring came the rain, mud, and days of getting soaked to the bone or having to find shelter in some way. She often wondered if dying from the cold was possible in the spring. Fall was likely the best season but still, too far into the fall gathering edible vegetation became difficult and the nights could get very cold.

The current night was colder than most for so early in the fall, and an overcast sky had hidden the stars and the moon. It didn’t matter the season, nights that were this dark were the worst

The noise from her stomach was loud enough, that it might have given the girl away if it wasn’t for the guards being too far to hear her. Her pocket held random nuts that had been retrieved this morning from the ground under some trees. They were little round brown nuts that were cracked open one at a time by the use of a hand-sized rock sent crashing down on them. The ground didn’t make for the best place to hold the nuts, as sometimes dirt got into the meat but it was sturdy and available. Two years on the run makes you not care so much about a little dirt in your food.

Some days when food was particularly scarce, when the nights were particularly cold, when both the canine and the mankind of hounds were particularly relentless the girl would find her emerald green eyes filling with tears and she would silently curse the demon of a man who brought her to this state.

Her mind recounted of her first days, weeks, months, and years under that Lord’s thumb. The whippings were difficult but she survived them. The advancements Vasant would make now that she was older, were stomach churning but it was his wife dying and the realization that he would never let the girl leave. That was the final straw, the thing that made her run.

Despite knowing that running had been her only option, there was a sense of guilt that followed the girl everywhere. Maybe, if she had just been a little better at things he wouldn’t have gotten so mad. Maybe, it was her fault for the things he wanted to do to her. Lord Vasant had drilled into Islana's mind those very thoughts.

As she quietly sat, eating the nuts her mind thought back to the people who had graced the inside of Lord Vasant’s house. People of power. The things the redhead had overheard or seen. That horrible man never thought the redhead would dare run. Yet, she did and his secrets went with her.