CHAPTER 2 #3
“Bloody driver!” He said as he banged the roof of the carriage, “Be more careful.”
“Sorry, Sir.” A distant, muffled reply responded.
Rat face turned to look at me and then looked me up and down. My stomach twisted as he did, but I held my head high, hoping he got the hint.
“How long until we get there?” Saying anything to get him to stop looking at me like he wanted to gobble me up.
“You must address me properly.” He snarled.
“Sorry, Sir. Sir, how long until we get there?” I tried not to let the sarcasm that was gathering at the back of my throat seep through.
“You’ll know when we get there.” He looked me up and down one more time and then went back to writing, eventually dozing off again.
Our surroundings started to come to life the farther we traveled.
We were now in the countryside, and birds were singing as they flew home for the evening.
Squirrels and rabbits were bounding around, running away from the commotion of our carriages; one almost got entangled in one of the wheels ahead of us, but turned around at the last minute, darting back into the tall grass.
The sun began to set, and nightfall started to cover the land in darkness as we continued our journey.
A symphony of crickets played the strings of their little wings, and little orbs of light fluttered in between the trees and bushes.
It was already hard to stay awake, and the sound of the horses’ hooves against the dirt roads combined with the sway of the carriage rocked me to sleep.
I jumped awake to the feel of a hand on my knee, slowly brushing it with their thumb.
Instinctively, I jerked my knee away and pulled my skirt down, so it covered my knees.
Rat Face pulled his hand back and crossed his arms, just staring, smiling with that creepy, slimy smile; his crooked teeth peeking out.
We didn’t say anything, but I promised myself not to fall asleep again while I was alone with him, however long that may be.
How many women were taken advantage of by their advisors in this vulnerable state, stuck in a carriage alone with them?
Disgust coursed through me as I peeked out the window to see if there was any commotion in Maya’s carriage.
I swear, if he lays a hand on her, he's dead.
The hours dragged on, and my eyes felt heavy and dry; a headache had started in my temples, its rhythmic pounding matching the horse's steps. Oh, what would I give to be in any other damn carriage? In the distance, the horses’ hooves changed to a higher-pitched clack, and ours followed suit as the road changed from dirt to stone.
Well-maintained bushes with flat tops lined the roads, the occasional flowerpot decorating the end of a drive.
Rat Face had fallen asleep again, but I didn’t dare make the same mistake twice.
I looked out my window at the carriages ahead, and the driver at the front of the line waved to the tail of the carriages behind.
He veered to the right onto a pathway that led to a home made entirely of logs; the pathway was lined with wooden fencing that was adorned with carvings.
There had to be at least three floors in that home.
A chimney reached towards the sun, blowing whisps of grey and white smoke into the early morning sky.
One by one, each driver waved and turned down a driveway to another manor, each one getting bigger and more grandiose with more floors, sprawling gardens, and winding driveways.
The carriage in front of ours turned and rode down a brick driveway.
Maya stuck her head out, waving with enthusiasm at me, but a hand from inside the carriage pulled her back immediately, and then she was gone.
Will I ever see her again? I logged that memory of her smiling face hanging out of the carriage, knowing it was probably the last time I would ever see her.
Our carriage was the only one left, and the sound of our horses’ hooves striking the stone-laden road was louder than the ensemble of them before.
The early morning air was crisp, but not too cold.
Spring had come and was on the verge of becoming summer, but a light coating of frost still covered the ground.
My nerves were getting the better of me, and impatience built as I waited for my carriage to turn, but it never did.
It continued on a straight path until the sun had moved to its position in the late morning sky.
We came to a fork in the road and took the stone path on the right.
The left path turned to dirt and led to a small city in the distance.
Smoke billowed into the sky, and minuscule buildings lined the horizon.
My headache had intensified from the lack of sleep, and it felt like a thousand knives were piercing my skull.
Any hope that Maya and I would be neighbors and could still see each other was dashed away by the growing distance between us.
Our driver called to the horses, “Whoa,” and we came to a sudden halt.