Chapter Ten
ABBY
I’M SO HAPPY to have food in my stomach.
It’s renewed the energy I didn’t even realize I lost. Energy I’m going to need to get through the night. I’ve been walking for what I estimate to be three hours, and the sky is quickly dimming.
The road isn’t as barren as the one I was on earlier, and while I’m definitely walking through the country, the houses are closer together and small streetlights illuminate the way.
I pass a house every few minutes, which is comforting. I like knowing that if something goes wrong during the night, my scream will be heard. Not that that means anybody would come out to help, though.
My feet are beginning to hurt, and I pause and stretch out my ankles before continuing. I’m glad I bought new sneakers before coming here, but I should’ve taken the time to break them in. My socks are painful where they rub against my heels, and blisters are already forming.
I glance up, frowning as I eye the orange-and-pink sunset off in the distance. It’s beautiful, but it means I’ll need to stop walking soon. I’m not going to travel during the darkest hours of the night. It isn’t worth the risk, but I’ll make sure to get moving at first light.
I’ve closed some good distance today, but I still have a long way to go.
If the rumors that the princes are planning to travel into the Redstall Forest through Farbay are true, I need to get there first. Samuel made it sound like it’ll be impossible to sneak in once the princes arrive, so I need to beat them to it.
Maybe, if I have time, I can re-up my supplies while I’m there. My interactions with Samuel were positive, and I hope I can get another faerie desperate for a mate to purchase me more food. My only other option is to steal, which I’m doubtful would work.
A quiet, thumping noise reaches me from behind, and I spin just in time to see a faerie on horseback emerge from the back of one of the houses I passed a few minutes prior. It’s a man, and he sits tall on his brown-coated horse as he turns onto the gravel road and heads toward Callonton.
The horse appears similar to the ones in the human realm, albeit slightly larger. I’d kill to have a horse right about now. Its tail swishes as it begins walking away, but then the man on top looks over his shoulder, making eye contact with me.
I curl my toes inside my shoes, resisting the urge to run as the horse turns around and begins heading toward me. Fuck me. The man on top of the horse is large, just like Samuel. His white hair is cropped short to his head, and his violet eyes rake over my figure as he nears.
“Are you all right?” he asks, only a few steps away now. “Are you lost?”
The horse is so close, I could reach out my arms and brush its muzzle. I don’t.
I shake my head. “I’m all right. Just on my way to Farbay.”
I figure being honest is my best course of action. Samuel saw right through me when I tried to lie, and it makes me look more suspicious than necessary. There’s nothing wrong about a human walking from Callonton to Farbay. It may be a bit peculiar, but definitely not illegal.
The man’s gaze travels to my gloves, and my fingers twitch by my sides. Is he going to ask to touch me? Should I ask to touch him ? I don’t know what’s considered normal, but I’m going to let this guy lead.
“That’s quite a long walk on foot,” the man says. I shrug, and he continues. “Do you need a ride?”
“In exchange for what?”
“I’ve heard rumors about the human realm…” The horse shifts, and the man smoothly adjusts. I’m going to piss myself. “I have no ulterior motive, human. My daughter is in labor, and my mate has kicked me out of the home until my grandchild is born.”
The man frowns, waving a hand in the vague direction of the home he came from. He doesn’t sound particularly pleased about being kicked out of his home, and I fight back a smile. He has a mate. That has to mean something, right?
It doesn’t mean I’m going to openly trust this man, though.
“I have time to kill, and the trip to Farbay is beautiful.”
My parents always warned me never to pick up a hitchhiker, but they never told me what to do when I’m the hitchhiker. I suppose they never imagined I’d be in this position. I didn’t, either, to be honest.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
The man purses his lips, briefly hesitating to answer. It’s minor, but it’s all I need to see. Why would he hesitate to give me his name? Is he afraid I’ll repeat it to another? I’m not sure, and I honestly don’t care. This man very well might be genuine, but I’m not in a position to be trusting people. It’s better to be safe than sorry.
“I’m all right,” I lie, interrupting before he gives a name. “My friend’s home is along the way, and I promised I’d stop in to say hello . Plus, I don’t mind the walk. It’s enjoyable, especially on a night as beautiful as this.”
The man hums, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “It’s a long walk. I estimate you’re still several hours away by foot.”
“I’m all right. I want to walk.” My answer is too curt to be polite, and the man visibly recoils before collecting himself.
“Very well, then,” he says. “Enjoy your walk.”
He pulls the horse’s reins, and I place a hand over my chest as he turns and begins heading in the direction he was originally going. I wait until he’s almost entirely out of sight before giving him my back.
The streetlights turn on, drawing attention to the quickly dwindling sunlight. The lamps are tall, black poles with glowing, bulbous tips, and they illuminate the road just enough that I don’t veer off the path—not that there’s much room to mess up. The road has been a straight shot, just like Samuel said.
I walk until the sun has completely vanished and the moon shines brightly, and only once my feet and legs feel swollen do I finally begin to search for a place to sleep. I can’t exactly pull up to a random faerie’s house and ask to borrow a bed for the night, but I figure nobody will mind if I crash in a barn.
I’ve seen a few along the way, and I pray this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass as I approach a house on the right. It’s nestled between several trees a good distance from the road, and it’s nearly impossible to make out the details in the dark.
I have a flashlight in my backpack, but I don’t want to use it and draw any unwanted attention to myself. I doubt the house’s owner will be pleased to discover a human woman slinking around their property. I need to be stealthy.
I’m careful to keep my distance from the house as I make my way around the side property, and I pray there are no magic alarms alerting the owners that somebody is on their land.
Nothing happens, though, but I don’t let myself relax as I weave through the trees surrounding the house. I peer into the back, searching for a barn. It’s hard to see now that I’ve stepped away from the streetlights, but I can just barely make out a large structure in the distance. Perfect.
I keep close to the base of the trees before hurrying across the open field leading to the barn. If there’s any time to be caught, it’s when I’m out in the open.
Thankfully, there are no fences or equipment I need to dodge in my mad dash to the barn, and I spot no movement in or around the house as I reach the structure. I plaster myself against the exterior wall before walking around the perimeter, searching for the door.
No magic alarms blare out when I finally find it and grab the handle, and I squeeze my eyes shut and hope for the best before twisting and pushing. The door opens with a quiet squeak, and I peek inside before dropping my bag onto the ground and pulling out my flashlight. It’s pitch black inside, and I’ll be damned if I walk into this building blind.
There could be dangerous animals or sharp equipment in here.
The items in my bag clink around as I pull out my flashlight, and I cringe and glance back at the house before sticking my arm inside the barn and turning on the light.
I’m tense, primed to be attacked as the inside of the building is illuminated, and I let out a sigh of relief when I notice the space is basically empty. There’s some sort of horse-drawn equipment along the far-right wall and several empty stalls directly across from the door, but that’s about it.
I tentatively step inside and shut the door behind me, mildly aware that I’m trapping myself inside. I’m unsure if the light from my flashlight can be seen from the house, and I don’t want to take the risk.
This feels eerily similar to the start of a low-budget horror film, and I continually remind myself that I’m probably not going to die tonight as I explore more of the barn. There are dozens of small farming tools, mostly hoes and rakes, leaning against the wall next to the tractor, and to the left, beside the empty stalls, is a giant mound of hay.
Whoever owns this place must have animals, and this must be where they usually stay. Where are they now, though? Maybe they’re kept outside when the weather is nice.
I move to peek into the stalls, mildly afraid I’m about to encounter several people chained up. To my complete relief, though, they’re empty. I even spot a pile of shit in one corner, and I’m happy to note it’s too large to belong to a faerie or human. It’s always a comfort to find proof that you’re not currently hiding inside a creepy serial killer’s barn.
I’m not sure what I would’ve done had I found people chained up here. I’d have to help them, but I have no idea how I’d manage that. I can’t exactly knock on the serial killer’s door and ask if I can use his phone to call the police.
My palms feel like they should be sweating, but the gloves Samuel bought me somehow wick it away. I’m continually impressed by these gloves, and I tighten my grip on my flashlight with a quiet hum. I can feel the cool bite of the metal and the tiny ridges of the handle, almost like I’m holding it with my bare hand. It’s impressive.
I turn toward the hay. Didn’t people used to sleep on hay mattresses back in the day? It looks uncomfortable, but it’s better than the hard, dingy floor. I refuse to spend another night on the floor. My back can’t handle it.
I dig my sweatshirt out of my bag and pull it on so my exposed arms and back don’t rub against the hay. I also take this moment to change my underwear. I brought five pairs with me, and I hope to find some sort of freshwater source so I can clean them before they’re all dirty.
I’ve worn my current pair for almost two days, and it’s not good. I smell like a biohazard, and I cringe as I shove them into an empty Ziploc bag and bury them deep into the bottom of my bag.
It’s disgusting, and I don’t feel much cleaner as I slip on a fresh pair. It’s better than nothing, but what’s really going to feel good is a shower—preferably one with a loofah and gobs upon gobs of body wash.
I press my palms into the hay, testing it before turning and sitting down. It’s denser than I thought, but it’s better than nothing. My sweatshirt does protect my skin from being stabbed by the sharp ends, though, which I guess is something.
I lie back, trying and failing to get comfortable, before switching off my flashlight and tucking it into the waistband of my leggings—beside my knife.
Tomorrow morning will be better.