Julian’s head flew back, and he stumbled on his feet but was quick to right himself. He looked at me with a snarl in his silver glare as he spat a mouthful of blood. I fought for a breath, unable to take much more. The trees spun around me, and the earth bent and bowed. I was dizzy, blinking until the trees took shape, but it was too late. Julian had my throat in his fist, squeezing as he took me off my feet and slammed my back into the ground.
“One: do you honestly believe you’re faster than me?” he screamed with his fingers tightening around my neck, nailing my spine to the forest floor. “Two: calm the fuck down.”
Blood dripped from his lip onto my face and his black hair hung over his eyes. I tried prying from his grip, swinging my head to the side. It was at this point that I met eyes with what appeared to be a small man emerging from behind a tree. I blinked, but he was still there, coming up behind Julian.
This man reached into a velvet pouch and tossed a fistful of something powder-like into the air, and a scent of rotten meat caught on the breeze and smacked into me.
Julian toppled over, and my stomach churned, my chest afire.
I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t breathe.
It felt like a scorched dagger was searing every exposed part of me, my eyes, my mouth, my tongue, my cuts, my wounds, my ears.
Beside me, Julian’s gasp was sandpaper.
He couldn’t breathe either.
I tried to pry my eyes open to see where the strange man had gone, but my eyes were tearing up, and all was blurry. The poisonous, rotten dust engulfed me as I flipped over. I clutched my lungs and pressed my face into the ground to avoid it, but someone kicked my side until I rolled on to my back again.
The small man with tiny eyes and a full beard stood over me.
He was the last thing I saw until everything fell dark.
The Next Morning
It was warm here.This was the first thing I noticed.
I was no longer cold or shivering but comforted by a fire pounding out heat. A woody scent of sandalwood wafted all around, and distant chatter strung in the air until it focused and swarmed closer. I cracked an eye open, finding myself lying on my stomach in a small, quaint room.
An older woman with a shaved head wrung a towel into a nearby bucket. “There, there, Heathen,” she whispered with gentleness. Her bracelets jingled when she applied a warm compress to my bare back. “You’re safe.”
I was in a small wooden cabin. It was cluttered, with plants hanging from every corner and photographs in mismatched frames clumped together on the wall to my left. They were surrounded by shelves containing books, apothecary jars, and herbs. In the kitchen, two more women spoke in hushed whispers. A young lady with spiral black curls stood in front of a stove, stirring something in a pot. Large wooden spoons and scratched pots hung above her. The middle-aged woman stood beside her with a derisive gaze aimed at me.
A graying, scraggly beard appeared, with a face attached to it. My only sight was him, advancing closer and closer. I couldn’t move as he leaned over, studying me with his tiny eyes.
“I’ve been waiting my entire life for you,” he said in a brittle voice. “My name is Ocean.”
I flinched, wishing to escape this mad house, but there was no energy or strength to move. My limbs felt as though they were not my own, dead and detached, and I could feel a bead of sweat sliding down the edge of my face.
“There’s nothing to fear, Heathen,” he assured. “I’m your keeper.”
I thought the man insane, or I was experiencing another delusion. But there was nothing I could do because then my eyes fluttered closed, and all the lights dimmed into nothing.
The Following Day
“How much did you give him?”It wasn’t the older woman or the younger one. The voice came from the mistrustful, middle-aged woman who wore a cloth wrapped around her head.
“He’s been to hell and back, Winta. The Nightshade was only supposed to take him out for a couple of hours, not days.” Ocean’s eyes slid back to me. “He will be fine.”
Nightshade.
The young lady with black curls framing her face approached me. “I’m Kioni, and this here is my mother, Winta, and my grandmother, Eleanor,” she said with an accent and copper-colored eyes. “Drink this. It will help.” She lifted my head and put a hammered cup to my mouth, and before I could resist, a warm liquid doused my lips.
I turned, spat it out, and sat up fully, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Why, aren’t we dramatic?” She laughed. “It’s only water and a few drops of jewelweed.” She shook her head and pulled back, wiping the edge of the cup with a towel.
I sat frozen on the couch, watching these strangers move comfortably about the small cabin with me sitting here. How did they not realize that I didn’t fit into this equation? Why were they keeping me here, and what did they want from me? It seemed odd, strange even, to bring a thing such as myself into theirhomeand not think to chain it up. They truly believed I would not harm them.
