Page 6 of A Flawed Scotsman

Silently communicating, they must have come to the same conclusion because they turned away and ran.

“Pl-please,” Esme managed to call out just as her knees gave way. She managed to drag herself to a tree and lean back on it, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

If this was how she was going to die, Esme considered as waves of pain came and went, she could accept it. However, she wanted to live. There were so many things still to experience.

Closing her eyes, she envisioned the young men from earlier and hoped that, perhaps, they’d find her.

Despite the inability to take a full breath, she attempted to scream.

“Help me.” Esme winced at the piercing ache in her lower abdomen. Her voice was barely louder than normal speak as she could barely breathe without causing the arrow in her stomach to move.

Tears trailed down her face as she struggled to stand. It would be a long trek home. She’d run for a while before arriving there. But perhaps if she started in the right direction, she’d be met by guards who’d be out searching for her.

It took several tries just to get to her knees. From there, she pulled on the tree to stand. Each movement sent pulses of pain throughout her body so that by the time Esme stood, she was shaking and wet with perspiration.

Unable to keep from it, she wept openly, unable to keep sobs from causing even more aching. This could not be happening. Why was no one coming to search for her?

One step, she willed, and took a tentative step. She held out a trembling hand to a nearby tree and took a second. Her feet felt heavy and uncooperative.

She wasn’t sure how much later or how far she’d traveled, but her body refused to move another inch. Having lost count of how many dizzy spells had struck, when it happened again, Esme closed her eyes and gripped the branch she’d been using as a cane.

The sun was falling, the forest darkening as long shadows cast across the path before her.

When her vision blurred, Esme took a breath and tried her best to not fall. “No. Please,” she begged herself. “Keep moving.”

The trembling in her legs became worse and she looked around to find shelter. Soon, nightfall would come, and the smell of her blood would attract predators. Again, tears fell as the throbbing in her side became unbearable. For some reason, the stomach injury didn’t hurt as much now.

She lowered to the ground gingerly and cried out when she accidently hit the arrow in her stomach. Gasping, she managed to move forward on her knees to a small gap between a fallen tree and a rock. After lowering to her bottom, she shuffled backward until she was inside the small space. She then managed to pull branches down to cover the opening. Once inside, she whimpered like an injured pup while waiting for the agonizing pain to stop.

As much as she wanted to break the arrows, the idea of the pain the movement would cause was enough of a deterrent to keep from doing it.

Tired, thirsty and in pain, she sat in the darkness, every sense on high alert, as the night sounds surrounded her.

A man’s voice woke Esme and she grimaced when she realized her current predicament. She could not move. Every part of her body resisted when she attempted to reach for a branch that blocked the entrance.

“Who goes there?” she called out, annoyed at how soft her voice was.

“Ye may be the devil’s own son, but we are stuck together through this,” the man said with an annoyed tone. “I won’t stand for being thrown again.”

There were sounds as if a horse pawed the ground and snorted. Then silence. “I have nothing more to do but wait,” the man spoke again.

“Can ye help me?” Esme tried to speak louder. “Help.”

There was silence for a long time, then the man called out, “Is someone there?”

“Yes,” Esme said. This time, her voice was a whisper. She moaned when the attempt to call out again failed. Wiping a hand over her sweat-drenched face brought the realization that she was feverish. “Pl-please.” As her eyes fell, she fought not to pass out. However, she couldn’t keep from it. In a desperate attempt to get attention, she reached for a branch. But just as her fingers touched one, everything went black.

*

Ruari wasn’t sure if he was going mad. Although not one for fables, he’d often heard that men were caught by wood Fae and kept prisoners. The tales were often told at the tavern by men who’d drunk too much ale and from the stories, Fae were quite fetching.

He’d heard a woman’s voice, clear as day, but there was no one around. He scanned the surroundings only to find nothing but trees, bushes and a large rock. Now, where exactly had men claimed to find Fae? They’d always said near water and he was not near a creek, nor a craggy hillside. He shrugged. Perhaps it had been a trick of the wind and the effect of being cross with the beast of a horse he’d made the mistake of riding.

The horse grazed now, seeming as meek as a mouse. But Ruari would not be taken in by the wily thing’s ability to change from calm to furious in a matter of moments.

Just then, something caught his eyes. On the ground near a rock, there were markings of something being dragged across to it. He lowered down to his haunches and inspected the path. What he saw took his breath. A woman in bloody clothes sat between the rock and a tree, two arrows protruding from her body. She was slumped sideways and looked to be dead.

Chapter Three