CHAPTER 10 #2
A shiver wracked her body, but she took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting it settle in the muscles of her back.
They relaxed, taking the urge to shiver with them, but she knew it wouldn’t last long.
This forested mountainside was much cooler than she was used to, and the sun had only just gone down.
Why did they have to be so far from a hay-filled barn like the ones she’d used during her flight from home?
She stretched out on the ground and huddled under her dress and blanket. The nearby tent mocked her with its lure of shelter, but she knew she couldn’t partake. Requesting help from two strange men would be folly in any circumstance, except perhaps a literal choice between life and death.
When the two men were outlaws who had captured her before, even freezing to death might be preferable.
~
Helena’s first thought upon waking from her fitful rest was that her back hurt. The rocky ground was far from comfortable, and she was exhausted, cold, and hungry.
Her second was that the forest was far too quiet.
Jolting upright, she frantically searched her surroundings. She could barely see her hand in front of her face; surely they hadn’t already left?
No – she could just see a lone figure standing near where their camouflaged tent should be. His light skin stood out in the dim forest.
The sudden realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. He was tall, and she had spotted him by his exposed skin.
Le Capuchon wasn’t wearing his hood.
The urge to see his face overwhelmed her, but she fought to hold the impulse in place. He would hear her as soon as she moved. Learning the contours of his face would do her no good if he captured her again.
Instead of maintaining a watchful post like the day before, the outlaw stood with his chin lifted, peering into the treetops. His arms were folded at his waist, making him look normal and relaxed.
Perhaps she was imagining it – the light was still very dim – but something about his stance called to her.
It whispered, I am alone. Unwanted. Abandoned.
She shook her head to clear it. Projecting her feelings onto her enemy wasn’t going to help her bring him to justice.
The rustle of the canvas tent was loud in the still morning. Helena could just make out a shorter figure joining Le Capuchon.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” a deep voice admonished. “We’re lucky the storm has held off this long. If you were up, we should have been moving.”
“I haven’t been awake long. Besides, you know it isn’t safe to tackle the next section without light.” Turning toward the tent, Le Capuchon pulled at one of the knots. “There was no point in waking you up to sit and wait.”
Now that they were both up and breaking camp, Helena felt safe moving.
By the time she finished her meager breakfast of dried meat and a few bites of day-old bread, the men were heading off into the woods again.
It was light enough now that she could see the rough outline of the ground in front of her.
They hadn’t been hiking long when Helena drew back, stifling a horrified gasp when the ground on her left disappeared. No wonder Le Capuchon had said this would be dangerous in the dark! She edged along the narrow trail, wishing the rise on her right wasn’t so steep.
The sky continued to lighten, but it remained gray. Helena followed the two outlaws back underneath the trees, mildly impressed by the pace they could maintain on the continuous incline. She was accustomed to lower altitudes and gently rolling hills.
Occasional snowflakes began gliding softly past her face.
Le Capuchon and his friend moved faster.
Helena’s lack of sleep wore at her, but she pushed herself to stay with them.
This was all for naught if she lost them before they made it back to their base.
She couldn’t give up now just because of a little fatigue pulling on her limbs.
The snow fell faster, coating the ground beneath her feet in a soft blanket despite the shelter of the trees. Above her, she could hear branches scraping in the wind that harassed the outside world.
When she judged it was past midday, she swung her pack to the front and pulled out a little food, careful to ration it for a journey of unknown length. She would have appreciated a moment to rest, but the men continued to hike, fetching food and their water skins from each other’s packs.
The light was beginning to decrease again when the trees thinned ahead.
Stumbling with weariness, Helena almost fell face first into the two feet of snow that mocked her at the forest’s edge.
It was still falling, the wind whipping it into wicked spirals as it swirled across the empty stretch of mountainside.
Up ahead, her unwitting guides slogged through the snow in single file, Le Capuchon breaking a path for his shorter friend. Helena needed to keep up, but she sagged against a nearby tree instead. After all, if she stepped out there now, they would see her the minute one of them turned his head.
With the way their heads were bent against the driving snow, neither seemed likely to look. But Helena was too tired to care.
Slowly flexing her fingers, she pretended she could still feel the tips before shoving off from the tree.
She staggered along the path that Le Capuchon had forged.
The wind, which had been slowed by the forest, howled across the slope.
It tore at her cloak, trying to pull it free from the death grip her numb hands maintained on it.
Her gloves weren’t thick enough for this weather.
Just when she was considering giving up and burying herself in the snow, another stand of trees rose out of the dim light and swirling snow ahead of her. A relieved groan escaped her, and she stumbled forward with the last reserves of her strength.
But then she saw the drop-off.
“Surely not.” If anyone had been around to hear, she would have been ashamed of the pitiful whimper that escaped her. She scanned the ground, hoping for a sign that they had followed the edge to some easier point of descent.
Unfortunately, the tracks in the shallow snow pointed straight ahead.
Helena carefully leaned forward, examining the path. It was a good thing she hadn’t stopped by the stables before following them. The narrow ledges had been bad enough, but no horse could navigate this slope.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, blocking out the terrifying view. “If they can do it without a rope, so can I.”
With that, Helena turned sideways, bending her knees and leaning her weight on her back foot. Once she had descended enough to reach, she set a hand against the rocks to steady herself.
Step by careful step, she inched her way down. Hopefully, the snow at the bottom would show footsteps, because she had definitely lost them by now.
Her legs started to tremble from the day’s hike, her lack of sleep, and the tension of her climb. Taking a deep breath, she peeked beyond her boots. About ten more feet. Ten more feet, and she would be safely back on level ground. She could do this. It was only ten more—
Her right foot slipped on a patch of deeper snow. She tried to regain her balance, but her knees gave out, dropping her roughly on her side.
She grunted as she bounced off the hard rock, then released a terrified shriek when gravity pulled her into a slide. Throwing herself sideways, she grasped for a handhold, but the rocks tore at her gloved fingers and sent them on their way.
The ground met her with a sickening crunch and a blaze of pain in her right ankle.
Gasping, she tried to push herself upright, but the best she could manage was half a foot before her quivering arms collapsed beneath her.
Cold seeped into her from the snowy ground, but she no longer had the energy to fight it.
As the blackness crawled around the edge of her vision, she released a whimpering chuckle. At least she wouldn’t have to marry Tobias or Luther.
Then she gritted her teeth against the pain and let the darkness take her.