16. Needle and Thimble
Needle and Thimble
Prism Malefic
Dreams of tending my mother’s pink roses, watching the bumblebees land and take off from their delicate petals, comforted me… until huge hands and claws tore me from my reprieve and flung me over his shoulder.
With long strides, the wither marched us out of the cave into the morning light.
Kicking and wiggling were no use, and my screams didn’t even scare the birds from their nests.
They only watched on as the monster carted me through the trees.
My fists beat against his back, over and over, until I was sure they’d bruise.
“Ouch,” I yelped after one particularly painful whack hit his hard spine.
The wither stopped at that and pulled me around to his chest. He lifted one eyebrow as if to challenge me before gently taking my hand between his two sharp fingers.
Bringing my palm to his face, he inspected it.
It was the first time I’d seen him in daylight.
His arm was so massive, I sat in the crook of his elbow with ease as we towered over the forest floor.
The skin on his body was inky, and shadows radiated off of him like fog on warm earth.
It was as if he were so dark, so evil, there was a surplus of it wafting off his skin, trying to escape his fearsome form.
What I hadn’t noticed in the dark of the cave was the silvery white slash across his face and down his chest. The scar on his chest was as wide as my hips. The words tumbled from my mouth before I could think to stop myself.
“How’d you get that scar?” His gaze dropped from my palm to meet my gaze.
“My hand is fine, if that’s what you’re wondering.
” I crossed my arms. “I don’t appreciate being thrown over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Also, I need a place to bathe. I may have been captured by a wither, but I won’t be dirty. Got it?”
I could have sworn the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. He jerked a small nod and continued forward, holding me in his arms with ease. At least being carried like this was better than being flung over his back. I’d take my victories where I could find them.
The wither ducked under branches, careful not to let a single leaf brush my skin. He was large, grotesque, and the most formidable predator in all the realms—though for whatever reason, for whatever means, he was gentle with me… tender and protective even.
We traversed down a cliffside and I broke the silence, talking to myself, or maybe I was speaking to the monster, I’m not sure.
“Birch, my fiancé, who you stole me from. He works his family’s stable.
We went riding one day, and admittedly I’m not skilled at riding, and I know little of horses, so Birch held my reins as he rode beside me.
Something spooked my horse, her name was Butter, and she took off through the woods.
Every stick and branch whacked me in the face and cut up my arms and legs?—“
The wither huffed so loud I jolted in surprise. After a heartbeat, I continued. “Anyway, Birch only laughed. I suppose it was a bit funny in hindsight, though, in the moment, it was quite frightening.”
We’d reached the bottom of the cliff and rested upon soft grass again. Rushing water and birds sounded around us as I met the wither’s deep, assessing gaze. So aware… too aware.
“I guess what I’m saying is, you’re at least a better horse than Butter.”
The corner of the wither’s mouth lifted, more pronounced this time.
Lowering me slowly, I slipped out of his warm arms, noting the slow rushing creek and hill of willow trees before me.
A small waterfall cascaded in the distance.
My captor knelt by the creek and cupped a palm of water before taking my arm between two of his large fingers and pulling me closer.
He brought his hand to my chin and motioned forward.
Locking eyes, I felt a small flutter in my belly as I cupped his knuckles with my small hands and lowered my lips to his palm.
The wither’s stare hooded as my mouth touched his leathery skin and sucked in several gulps of water.
As a few drops dripped down my chin, the wither’s other hand cupped my head, and he swiped his thumb across my lips, careful to avoid contact with his long claw. He then knocked back the remaining water, drinking it back in one quick movement, allowing me another glance at his biceps.
Heat flushed my cheeks— I shouldn’t be feeling this way. “Turn around,” I ordered.
My captor shook his head in answer.
“Yes,” I demanded, crossing my arms and stomping my foot. “You’re not going to watch me bathe. You may be a monster, but I am still a lady .”
The wither lifted a challenging eyebrow, fighting the lifting of the corners of his mouth again. Finally, he jerked a nod and reluctantly turned his wide back to me.
I waved my arms just to double check he wasn’t watching somehow, and the wither didn’t budge. Good. I shimmied out of my light pink wedding gown. As it hit the grass in a puddle of silk, my heart sank. Was Birch coming for me?
Why hadn’t he come for me?
Did he not love me?
I hoped Rumor was taking care of herself. I knew she’d come. Though selfishly, I wished for Birch to find me first. In my fantasy, he charged into the woods on his horse, sword in hand, fought the wither or… at least just scared him away… before dropping to his knees and begging my forgiveness.
Well, that was a lovely daydream. I’d hold on to it for a while, and it would serve to get me through this ordeal. Stepping into the cool water, I laid back, drenching my hair and skin, and sighed. My breasts poked above the waterline as I relished the feel of cleanliness on my tired body.
When I opened my eyes, two larger eyes met mine. I yelped and floated upright, covering my breasts with an arm before splashing water towards the wither. “No looking! Be a gentleman, for goddess sake, I’m naked.”
The wither smiled then, the first jagged, sharp toothed, real smile I’d seen.
It was sinister and horrifying in all its sharp and deadly glory.
One thing was for certain, however, this creature absolutely understood me and every word I spoke.
Above him, a short distance away, I spotted several crab apple trees, full of green and yellow fruit.
My mouth watered as I pointed, still careful to cover my breasts.
“May I have those apples? I’m hungry. Could you fetch them while I finish up? ”
Assessing the trees over his shoulder, the wither nodded again before stomping off to grab apples.
I swam for a moment before it occurred to me…
this could be my moment to escape. If I swam to the other side of the river…
that could be the distance needed to slow the monster down should he pursue me.
Grabbing my dress and flats and holding them over my head to keep from soaking the fabric, I waded quietly to the other side of the river.
The monster had climbed a few large rocks to reach the twisted grove of trees bearing fruit on the cliff’s edge.
Gathering several, he plucked and held them in the basket of his palm as I slipped on my dress and shoes.
It was now or never.
With my heart pounding in my chest, I took off running, dodging trees as I did so. I jumped over a fallen log and zigzagged through ferns and fallen piles of leaves. Looking over my shoulder, I beheld no pursuit, no wither chased me.
I was doing it.
I was escaping.
It didn’t matter where, just that I got away long enough to figure it out. Then I could find home or find the party that was most certainly searching for me. It was only a matter of time before someone found me.
My chest heaving, I stopped to catch my breath and leaned against a mighty oak tree.
The forest went silent.
Only the sound of my ragged breath filled the space.
No birds, no chirping squirrels, and the sound of rushing water was long behind me.
A twig broke, then another, as a low growl chilled my bones. Only a mere four yards away, camouflaged to expertly blend into the dried foliage, a fearcat stalked forward. Its glowing yellow eyes fixed upon me as four pointed canines protruded over its maw.
My breath halted in my throat.
It had taken Adder Birch, our town’s most skilled hunter, five days and seven men to take down one fearcat that plagued Willowspire and slaughtered our livestock… and in that moment, I realized it wasn’t it only one set of eyes sizing me up… it was eight.
One fearcat alone could take down a herd of cattle, it being nearly twice the size of a cow and possessing the speed and prowess of the most vicious of felines imaginable.
One fearcat would kill me swiftly.
A pack of them would rip me apart to share amongst their pups.
I was going to die.
I’d jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.
Only now, eight sets of teeth salivated as they prowled nearer.
Shaking, I fought back tears as I slowly picked up a large stick. “Get back,” I weakly ordered, as if it would do anything. “I said, get back !”
The main fearcat, who I assumed was their alpha, lunged. Its white spots on its maple coat a blur in my vision as I dodged. Swinging my stick, I made contact with one’s ribs.
Another snarled loudly as I somehow found an opening and ran.
But it was too late—another cat pounced, sinking its claws through the tail of my dress.
Falling to my knees, I screamed, rolling over and covering my face with my arms. With a hot growl, a maw opened above me, its foul odor of rotting flesh hitting me alongside its putrid, poisonous saliva that burned my skin on contact.
Kicking, I fought to push out from under it, but it was no use.
My last prayer to the goddess was that the animal would go for my throat and my end would be swift and not prolonged.
With a final growl, the alpha reared back its head for the death kill when blue fog crept along the grass, encasing me in its vapors.
A fearcat yelped, and the alpha halted, closing its mouth and looking over its shoulder. Just then, a fearcat soared through the air, slamming against a tree, its bones cracking on impact.
A roar so powerful pulsated around us and my bones vibrated as it shook through the forest. The alpha leapt off of me with a snarl and turned to face its attacker as the other cats surrounded me, forming a circle, guarding their prey.
Sitting up on my elbows, tears streaked my face before a fresh wave of both terror and relief fought within my soul.
My wither stalked from the trees, his shoulders wide and his evil black smoke trailing from his form.
He bared his teeth as the pack inched closer, following behind their leader.
The fearcats weren’t going to give up their meal so easily…
could a wither withstand the onslaught of the remaining seven mighty beasts?
Did I want him to?
Yes , I realized in that moment. Yes, I did want the monster to prevail.
What did that say about me? Blue fog drifted along the ground and floated up to the treetops, turning what was the brightest of afternoons into an eerie twilight.
The wither stood fearsome and menacing before letting out another roar that shook the branches overhead.
Not heeding his warning, a fearcat to his left pounced, latching onto his right arm.
Another cat jumped and attached to his left arm while two more pounced from behind.
Blood sprayed, though I couldn’t be sure whose, as the nightmarish scene played out before me.
Crawling backwards, all I could do was cower by a tree trunk.
The only way I got out of this was in the jaw of a fearcat or the claws of a wither. Two monsters. One helpless maiden.
This was all my fault. It wasn’t the right time to run, and I had no clue how dangerous this part of the forest was. I’d never ventured further than our backyard woods.
Roaring again, my monster flung two fearcats from his back, and jerked both attached to his arms, slamming their heads into one another and dropping them to the ground.
The two that remained flanked their alpha as the wither stepped forward.
Monster and enormous felines, they all bared their teeth at one another as the two surviving cats waited for their alpha’s command.
Blood dripped from the inky skin of the wither. In the midst of his snarl, his gaze lifted to find me by the tree, before dropping to his attackers once more.
A bark sounded from the alpha fearcat, and I flinched, expecting more bloodshed and gnashing of teeth and claws—but the animal lowered its head, its counterparts following suit.
They bowed before their victor.
Assessing them for a short moment, the wither only huffed what sounded like an agitated breath as he pushed past them, stomping over to me.
I held my knees, afraid of what he’d do, fearful I’d be punished for running and getting us into this gruesome predicament.
No strike came, no roar, my monster simply opened his arms. He swayed subtly back and forth, as if he were stopping himself from grabbing me and just throwing me over his shoulder as he’d previously done. The gesture brought back that warm feeling inside from earlier.
He’d taken me.
He’d found me.
He’d rescued me.
And now, in a small way, he offered me a choice.
What if I’d refused? Would I have been thrown over his shoulder then or left to contend with the three fearcats behind him?
Standing, I dusted off my dress and walked forward.
He lowered, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and settled into the crook of his elbow to be carried once more.
Silently, he marched forward, slick with blood and grit.
Guilt pressed on my shoulders as he stopped at another grouping of trees and gently plucked a yellow crab apple from its branch and handed it to me.
I’d run away, gotten myself into danger, made him bloodied from a fearcat battle, and yet he still remembered his aim to feed me.
Accepting the offering, I rotated it in my palm.
My sister and mothers, the wise witches that they were, had always instilled within us that names held power.
They were their own spells, in a sense, that if someone knew your name, they held a piece of you.
Many witches would even change their names over time for this reason—so that hexes couldn’t follow them from past enemies.
I wasn’t a witch. There wasn’t a drop of magical blood within me, despite having two powerful witches for mothers.
Nevertheless, I heeded their wisdom. Words were power and giving your name was a sign of trust.
Sucking in a breath, I looked up at the wither. “I’m Prism. Prism Malefic.”