Chapter 3
Rule three:If the forest looks like a sanctuary for killer clowns, don’t enter it.
Idon’t scream.
There isn’t time.
All I manage is a sharp intake of breath before I hit the ground. The impact knocks the air from my lungs, and my vision goes dark.
I lie there, blinking through the pain, waiting for my eyesight to return. I wasn’t in the market for an upgrade, but now I have the added bonus of bright spots dotting my vision.
Staring up at the sky, I contemplate my life choices. Was climbing down a window with a blanket rope my best idea?
The answer depends on whether I’ve critically injured myself. If I can still escape, then it was a great idea.
Unfortunately, the shock of the fall is making it difficult to know whether I’m about to bleed out and die.
Taking a deep breath, I take stock of my body. The fact that I can breathe at all makes me think I didn’t fall too far. I feel like falling from the third story would probably result in a punctured lung.
Sitting up, I test the rest of my body for any new injuries.
I’m sore but not broken. And honestly, if that isn’t a metaphor for life, then I don’t know what is. I’d probably be more inspired, except I already know I’m broken. But that’s only mentally and emotionally. Physically? I’m going to pull through.
My eyes catch on the cloak, only two feet from where I fell. Landing on something soft would have been nice. But, of course, the universe is in no mood to accommodate my feelings.
I’m on my own. Situation no change.
Picking up the cloak, I take a moment to lean against the castle wall. Standing makes the world spin. Also, the stones are cool, and they soothe my sore back.
Silver lining, at least no one has come running yet.
Other than Sin, I haven’t seen or heard another soul here. It’s adding a lot of fuel to my ‘Morgana and Sin have no friends’ theory.
The spinning in my head starts to slow, but my thoughts still feel a bit fuzzy – likely the result of yet another head injury.
Rubbing at my temples, I try to keep my plan straight in my possibly concussed mind.
Step one was to escape the castle. Nailed it.
Step two, get to the forest, and don’t get caught. Ideally, the forest will eventually lead to a town.
Step three, trade labor for food and a place to sleep.
The Shadow Realm sounds like the kind of place that would have an inn. I’ve worked as a barista and mastered an espresso machine. Working at an inn doesn’t seem like too far of a leap.
It isn’t the best-conceived plan, but it’s better than being a prisoner.
The castle walls stretch on either side of me, barring my view of anything that may be on the other sides. All I can see is the distant forest. But I don’t dare make my way around the walls to look for alternate routes. The longer I stay here, the greater my odds are of getting caught.
With renewed urgency, I start towards the forest.
My escape route isn’t ideal. The open green hills offer nothing in the way of cover. I’m tempted to run or at least jog to my freedom. Instead, I stick to walking, hoping that at least this way, if someone does see me, I won’t look too suspicious.
Nothing to see here, just another Shadow Realm citizen who accidentally got too close to the evil villain’s castle.
Does the Shadow Realm even have citizens?
Leon mentioned the forsaken answer to Morgana. So, I’m assuming there will be some of those. But people? I hope so. Blending in will be easier if I can do it amongst the living. But if push comes to shove, I’m not above living as a hermit with the forsaken souls.
