Chapter 8
By the end of the dinner, a sinking feeling had settled in my gut. I'd had no food in 48 hours and had no idea how to hunt anything for myself. Under a different set of circumstances, I could have managed just fine, but this was not those circumstances. I had decent knowledge involving what was safe, but given that I recognized nothing on this island, I didn't want to risk it and then end up toppled over, foaming at the mouth.
Throughout the evening, no one had uttered a single word. No glancing at each other. No acknowledgment that anyone else was in the room. King Taro simply ate the way he always did, as if he'd been starved for the past millennia. I tried to catch the attention of someone, anyone, but eventually gave up. I desperately wanted to talk to them. Meet them. I wanted to know what the hell was going on here, if they even really knew. Perhaps during the next meal I would go and sit beside them, but from the err of discomfort floating around the room, that didn't seem like the greatest of ideas.
Everyone finally rose from their seats, carefully tucking the chairs beneath the gigantic wooden table. The crew began to walk towards the large red door, still silent. I kept my distance, listening carefully in case conversation among them arose. It didn't. As we made our way through the winding halls, I glanced out the large glass windows. The sun was setting over the horizon, the sky a beautiful mixture of blues and pinks. Hues dancing around one another in the sky, something that, for once, reminded me of home. As I turned back to the hall, I noticed the group had gotten further ahead of me than I had anticipated, so I quickened my step.
Breaching the front doors, I lost sight of them for a moment. I quickened my steps, grabbing the heavy door frame as I shot myself around the corner without losing speed. They were sprinting. Full tilt sprinting away from the castle, all in separate directions. Some of them going down the incredibly steep and rocky mountain below. The canopy darkened the forest as my eyes searched frantically until I caught sight of a bow bobbing over the bushes.
My feet burst into a run, trying not to lose sight of it.
I can't keep doing this
I needed to get some answers, and he seemed to be a step in the right direction. I hurtled myself down the rocky landscape, trying to simultaneously look down at my steps while I kept him in sight. His dark clothing began to disappear throughout the bushes and trees, only the tip of his bow remaining visible. I pushed myself harder, praying that my body could run on muscle memory.
Running had brought me solace through my years. It had given me a way to push myself physically and mentally. It was a personal outlet and right now, I desperately grasped for it. I tried to let instinct take over, let my body remember what it felt like to run quickly and carefully, the same way I had through the hiking trails around Cobalt Springs. But my lungs began to burn and the throbbing in my leg increased. Running was something where muscle memory could only help with so much, my lunges that betrayed me. The heaving became loud in my ears as I tried to focus my eyes on the man sprinting ahead of me.
It was becoming very hard to see, even as the terrain flattened out, and we ventured off in a direction I didn't recognize. The trees were scarce, leaving lots of space to be inhabited by tall grasses and weeds. I slowed for a moment and held my breath, trying to get my ears to focus on where the footsteps fell from. I caught wind of it for a moment, so I burst off again, the cool breeze causing the grass to eddy around the base of the trees. As I squinted into the darkness, I couldn't see the tip of the bow, nor could I see any movement in the grass. I was cutting it very close to sun down and after King Taro didn't allow me to eat dinner, I decided it was time to head back to my little shack. My stomach growled.
I trudged back in the direction I had come. I think. Or maybe it was the other way. Maybe it was towards the huge tree with red crescent leaves hanging off it, or perhaps it was the bush which cascaded over itself like a waterfall of beads.
Shit.
I don't know how to get back. I start wading back towards the direction I came, the grass not leaving a path remaining. Ignoring the burning in my leg and lungs, I speed up. I cannot stay out here. I will die. I hang a right, staring out at the dark forest in front of me before continuing forward, hoping that something will catch my eye with familiarity. The darkness masks any previous hatches I may have left carved into the wood. A scuttling sound emerges from my left and my breath hitches. Thunderous footfalls similar to that of 100 men. Before I can even turn to run, a dark shadow breezes by me, taking out my legs in a single blow. I fall to the ground, hand bracing hard against a sharp rock. Pain shoots up my wrist as I frantically scramble back to my feet, I grunt at the impact. But, of course, it's never that easy.
I hear the thundering steps behind me once again as I run, like a bullet fired from a gun. The ache in my lungs subsides and now all I can focus on are my steps, getting me further and further away from that– thing. I can't see, my vision in the dark worse than it should be. Before me, all I can make out are the large outlines of trees.
The thundering steps become louder, closing in. I throw myself behind a tree, but a heavy form crashes into me. It's firm and jagged, the texture raking itself along my skin as I tumble back to the ground. The body takes entirely too long before it's off me, making the seconds feel like minutes until I am free from its touch. As I hit the ground, a horrified sound escapes my chest. The sound echoes off into the woods. The creature was back on me before I can push myself up off the cold forest floor. A sense of realization hits me. The sounds of 100 men. This creature had tens to hundreds of legs, if not thousands, protruding from the sides of its long, lengthy body. The hard, pointy shell felt unyielding against my palms as I frantically tried to push it off of me. A wet tentacle wrapped itself in my hair, soaking the back of my neck and ears. I screamed, a terrified, shrill sound. I couldn't tell if the wetness against my face was my tears or the creature, as I twisted my head from side to side, still shoving my hands towards it in hopes of creating space. I pound my fists into it, hitting the odd soft spot, but it doesn't relent. Just as I begin to feel damp feather-like touches across my lips and nose, the creature is knocked to the side, releasing its grip on me. I quickly roll out from under it in time to see a glowing arrow protruding out of its side. Another one quickly embeds itself into the creature's undercarriage, before a hand is firmly gripping my wrist, dragging me to my feet and away from the creature as it writhes in the soil.
–
My feet stumbled as I was dragged up the stairs and shoved through a door. It slams shut behind me, leaving us in the dark room, the only sound filling the dead air my hot, laboured breathing.
"Where is your firewood"the man demanded, not facing me. I stepped around carefully, feeling the dresser beneath my fingertips. I feel the pot and flint I had left atop it. I recognize the space.
"I don't have any". I mutter breathlessly, walking over and sitting down on my hard cot. His glowing arrows shone dimly in the dark room, not emitting enough light to see anything. I glanced at him for a moment. He turned to face me, causing my spine to stiffen as he sat down in the rickety chair beside the cot. It groaned beneath his weight.
"What you did tonight was stupid", he says. No condescension in his voice, just factual statement. I didn't reply for a moment, not entirely sure how to.
"What was that thing?", I pick at the pebbles and wood stuck to my palm.
" Something that you're lucky to have gotten away from. Grix are an incredibly fast and vicious species. They toy with their prey, they enjoy the suffering."
I shivered, partly from his words and partly from how cold and stale the air felt. I needed firewood. The nights were too cold without it.
I watched as he slung his bow off his back and hung it against the back of the chair,
"It's too dangerous to venture out and go back to my cabin. I'll be out at the first sign of dawn". He leans back in the chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head. An arrogant stature considering he just invited himself into my cabin.
I began unlacing my shoes and removing my socks,
"Why were you hunting earlier today if the king has these large dinners each night?"
He snorts, "that fool is no king."
My brows knit together as I tuck my shoes under the bed and lay my socks out to dry.
"Then what is he?"
He just sighs and runs his hand through his hair, his fingers getting caught before brushing through.
"Not someone to trust. I am sure you've figured out he's a bit…" he searches for the right word, "unstable".
I let out a low, grim laugh and glance down at my legat leg. The chair shifts.
"There are still crystals rooted deep within your leg."
I tuck my legs up under me on the bed, scooting back so I can lean against the wall.
"Well aware", I mutter, "I can feel them".
He slowly leans forward with an outstretched hand, giving me the chance to pull away before he gently places his hand on my calf, "let me remove them, before an infection sets in."
I guess I hadn't gotten out as many as I thought I had.
I lower my head slightly in confirmation.
"This is going to hurt", he says.
I get up off the bed before sitting on the floor, not wanting to get blood all over the sheets.
I suddenly ask, "how are you going to get them out in the dark?".
He lets out a low chuckle before replying, "You saw my eyes. I don't require light to see", was all the answer he gave before pulling a dagger from a sheath and wiping it against his pants.
I put the wooden handle of my knife into my mouth, preparing for the agony that would once again render me slow for a few days. He kneeled beside me, placing one hand against my thigh to hold my leg down, while the other carefully manoeuvred the blade against my shin. I sucked in a hard breath, trying to breathe rhythmically. I could barely hold it in as movement jolted through my body, but his calloused hand held firm, keeping my leg still. An electric shock worked its way through my leg, twisting up through my calf. His face, barely visible in the dark, held a grim determination. I said an internal plea, begging for this to be over soon, as the cold air rushed in against my now exposed inner leg. I closed my eyes and titled my head back as he carefully removed the shards, the dull sound of them falling against the wooden floor filling the room.
At long last, his grip loosened on my leg, and he reached behind his head and pulled off his shirt, securing it gently around my leg. I could feel the warm blood sliding down my cold skin, suddenly flush with the soft fabric. He stood up and held out a hand for me but I ignored it, pushing off my arms to get myself up right once again. Limping back to the bed, I carefully sit down. He returns to the chair, knife still in hand.
I pause, subtlely taking in the man before me as I lie down. The now half naked man before me. His left forearm is covered in pale, white ink swirling in sharp, lethal patterns. The silence is thick as I shut my eyes, whispering a thank you into the darkness. It occurs to me that I don't know his name, something I am quietly curious to learn. Turning to face him, his voice barely above a whisper as he replies, "Knox. My name is Knox."
I don't sleep much at all that night.