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Her eyes were skewed shut. There was no point in watching death as it approached from the tip of the king’s gilded sword. She preferred to see darkness than the hatred and wrath that skewed that man’s facial features. His widely flared nostrils, the deep furrow of his brow, and the malevolent snarl on his lips would not be her last sight. And so she waited in the darkness. She waited for the sting of cold steel to pierce her skin and plunge into her heart. She waited to feel the warm, sticky blood run down her chest and stain her wool red. She waited.
And she waited.
…
The point of the sword had seemed so soon in its arrival. Why was it late now that she had prepared for it? Slowly she opened one eye, peering through the lashes to try to ascertain why death had been so long delayed. Through the blur of her vision, however, she could make out no sword and no tyrant king. She could make out no throne room with its gilded walls and ornate tapestries. She could make out no guards and no screaming queen. She quickly opened the other eye, and stepped back with a start. She was somewhere else entirely. Where the king had once stood was the weathered trunk of a grand oak, and the army of guards had been replaced by an army of old-growth trees. She snorted, rearing onto her back legs with her eyes white-ringed with fear. “What? Where- Where am I?!” she cried. “Father?! Your Highness?! Where have you gone?!” Her senses immediately went to work, her nose twitching and her ears swiveling in the hopes of picking up any clue as to their whereabouts. There was nothing. There was only the smell of decaying leaves on the forest floor, the sound of birds twittering their songs, and the feeling that she was not entirely alone.
“Wh-Who’s there?” she whimpered, clutching her shepherd’s crook close to her chest. “I-I’m warning you! I know how to use this!” She received no answer, though the feeling never left. Her nose told her she was, indeed, alone. For now, anyways. The wooly centaur frowned deeply, trying to put her surprise away and puzzle out how exactly she came into this situation.
She had been brought into His Highness’s throne room, where he had screamed at her all manner of terrible names and threatened her with every sort of awful thing she could have imagined. The worst thing he had called her, however, was his daughter. This was the most blatant lie of them all. She already had a father! The good shepherd had raised her all on his own. He was her father and she was his daughter, even if they looked nothing alike. She shook her head at this notion, looking down at the crook her father had gifted to her when she was small. He had adorned it with cinquefoils, the symbol of a beloved daughter. No- that tyrant who had just moments ago aimed the tip of his sword at her heart was not her father. He never would be.
But this did not answer the question of how she got here, in this unfamiliar forest. This place was surely far away from anywhere she had been in her short life. The forests surrounding her home were filled with Beech, and there was not a single tree of that sort to be seen. It had only been a moment that she had closed her eyes, so how could she have travelled so far in only a second or two? She grimaced, her mind racing as it attempted to find a logical explanation where there was none. Ultimately all she could do was give up trying to find the means through which she found herself in these woods, and instead focus on how to get back home. This thought made her ears perk up in sudden horror. Her father! He was still in that horrid castle! He still faced the executioner and the cruel hand of the king! She could feel the icy tendrils of dread begin to crawl across her skin, constrict her throat and settle in her belly. She couldn’t afford to dawdle any longer. She had to find her way back home, and quickly.
But which way? She had never seen these woods before, and could hardly orient herself in the directions of north and south, much less decide on the direction she needed to go. She knew, however, that her home lay in the southernmost kingdom on the continent. Chances were she had been transported north. If this was the case, the only logical way to proceed was south. If she missed it, she could always follow the coast. She craned her neck upward, squinting up at the thick canopy of leaves as she tried to ascertain the position of the sun. Unfortunately it seemed that the glare was almost directly overhead, and she would need to wait awhile before figuring out the direction of south. She grimaced, almost panicked with impatience. But there was nothing she could do. She walked a short distance to a gap in the trees where the sun wouldn’t be impeded, and placed a twig on the ground. She marked the end of the shadow with a stone. All she could do now was wait for the shadow to move. The most productive thing to do while she waited was to try and find some food and water to prepare for the journey ahead.
Though the forest itself was unfamiliar, luckily the plants were not. She inhaled deeply, and almost immediately recognized the fruity smell of a small cluster of yellow mushrooms growing among the leaf matter on the forest floor. The gills running down the stalk informed her that these were indeed chanterelles, which she happily placed into her saddlebag. Not so far from where she had spotted the mushrooms, her ears perked up at the sound of running water. Following the sound, she came across a small stream. The water was clear and cool, and getting to her knees she cupped some of the water into her hands and drank. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she had been, and took a few more handfuls of water before filling her leather canteen to the brim. This would sustain her for awhile- at least until she had covered enough ground to warrant a break to rest and search for more supplies. She looked upward to the canopy again, and figured it was time to check on her stick.
The shadow had moved, and she marked the new location with a pebble. This new pebble marked east, and the original marked west. Placing her left hoof on the west pebble and her right hoof on the east pebble, she now knew that she faced due north. She turned around, and headed south. Such was the beginning of her journey home, though she would soon see that it would not be as straightforward as she had hoped.
And she waited.
…
The point of the sword had seemed so soon in its arrival. Why was it late now that she had prepared for it? Slowly she opened one eye, peering through the lashes to try to ascertain why death had been so long delayed. Through the blur of her vision, however, she could make out no sword and no tyrant king. She could make out no throne room with its gilded walls and ornate tapestries. She could make out no guards and no screaming queen. She quickly opened the other eye, and stepped back with a start. She was somewhere else entirely. Where the king had once stood was the weathered trunk of a grand oak, and the army of guards had been replaced by an army of old-growth trees. She snorted, rearing onto her back legs with her eyes white-ringed with fear. “What? Where- Where am I?!” she cried. “Father?! Your Highness?! Where have you gone?!” Her senses immediately went to work, her nose twitching and her ears swiveling in the hopes of picking up any clue as to their whereabouts. There was nothing. There was only the smell of decaying leaves on the forest floor, the sound of birds twittering their songs, and the feeling that she was not entirely alone.
“Wh-Who’s there?” she whimpered, clutching her shepherd’s crook close to her chest. “I-I’m warning you! I know how to use this!” She received no answer, though the feeling never left. Her nose told her she was, indeed, alone. For now, anyways. The wooly centaur frowned deeply, trying to put her surprise away and puzzle out how exactly she came into this situation.
She had been brought into His Highness’s throne room, where he had screamed at her all manner of terrible names and threatened her with every sort of awful thing she could have imagined. The worst thing he had called her, however, was his daughter. This was the most blatant lie of them all. She already had a father! The good shepherd had raised her all on his own. He was her father and she was his daughter, even if they looked nothing alike. She shook her head at this notion, looking down at the crook her father had gifted to her when she was small. He had adorned it with cinquefoils, the symbol of a beloved daughter. No- that tyrant who had just moments ago aimed the tip of his sword at her heart was not her father. He never would be.
But this did not answer the question of how she got here, in this unfamiliar forest. This place was surely far away from anywhere she had been in her short life. The forests surrounding her home were filled with Beech, and there was not a single tree of that sort to be seen. It had only been a moment that she had closed her eyes, so how could she have travelled so far in only a second or two? She grimaced, her mind racing as it attempted to find a logical explanation where there was none. Ultimately all she could do was give up trying to find the means through which she found herself in these woods, and instead focus on how to get back home. This thought made her ears perk up in sudden horror. Her father! He was still in that horrid castle! He still faced the executioner and the cruel hand of the king! She could feel the icy tendrils of dread begin to crawl across her skin, constrict her throat and settle in her belly. She couldn’t afford to dawdle any longer. She had to find her way back home, and quickly.
But which way? She had never seen these woods before, and could hardly orient herself in the directions of north and south, much less decide on the direction she needed to go. She knew, however, that her home lay in the southernmost kingdom on the continent. Chances were she had been transported north. If this was the case, the only logical way to proceed was south. If she missed it, she could always follow the coast. She craned her neck upward, squinting up at the thick canopy of leaves as she tried to ascertain the position of the sun. Unfortunately it seemed that the glare was almost directly overhead, and she would need to wait awhile before figuring out the direction of south. She grimaced, almost panicked with impatience. But there was nothing she could do. She walked a short distance to a gap in the trees where the sun wouldn’t be impeded, and placed a twig on the ground. She marked the end of the shadow with a stone. All she could do now was wait for the shadow to move. The most productive thing to do while she waited was to try and find some food and water to prepare for the journey ahead.
Though the forest itself was unfamiliar, luckily the plants were not. She inhaled deeply, and almost immediately recognized the fruity smell of a small cluster of yellow mushrooms growing among the leaf matter on the forest floor. The gills running down the stalk informed her that these were indeed chanterelles, which she happily placed into her saddlebag. Not so far from where she had spotted the mushrooms, her ears perked up at the sound of running water. Following the sound, she came across a small stream. The water was clear and cool, and getting to her knees she cupped some of the water into her hands and drank. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she had been, and took a few more handfuls of water before filling her leather canteen to the brim. This would sustain her for awhile- at least until she had covered enough ground to warrant a break to rest and search for more supplies. She looked upward to the canopy again, and figured it was time to check on her stick.
The shadow had moved, and she marked the new location with a pebble. This new pebble marked east, and the original marked west. Placing her left hoof on the west pebble and her right hoof on the east pebble, she now knew that she faced due north. She turned around, and headed south. Such was the beginning of her journey home, though she would soon see that it would not be as straightforward as she had hoped.