Morning all, hope your Monday worked well and you are well on your way to a good week. Mine is ticking along pretty well. So let’s kick Tuesday off right with the morning prompt. Timers set and lets see what comes out of the brain.
Not quite what I was expecting, but I do love a good enchanted wood.
Tuesday, April 1st: The look on his face was hard to forget.
The look on his face was hard to forget. He looked surprised more than pained. Then as the blood blossomed on his shirt, his body reacted to the pain. His face screwed up, crunching in on itself, the pain to intense to process. His body crumpled like his face and he fell. When he hit the ground, his face smoothed out. He was gone, life and pain leaving him.
It happened so quickly that it took a moment to register what happened. For a heartbeat their was stillness and silence.
“Run Franklin yelled, shattering the stillness. She could hear the arrows now, the sound they made splitting the air before thunking into a target. She could hear the horses as well. She left Roderick where he fell, he was beyond her help.
She spun on her heel and joined the others in a mad dash through the woods. The sound of her own heartbeat and the undergrowth she trampled as she ran were the only things she heard. There was a mercy in that. She knew the bowmen and riders were behind her. Hearing them would have only made her look back, wondering how close they were.
She heard an arrow streak by. She felt a sting in her arm and glanced down. Her sleeve was split and there was blood but the arrow passed her by, grazing her skin rather than imbedding in her arm. She concentrated on the path in front of her, putting on as much speed as she could while dodging the trees and any obstacles the ground presented. She leapt tree roots and slipped past brambles. She couldn’t stop, she couldn’t afford to slow. She could only run.
She made it through the woods and to the river. It was shallow now and she pulled her skirts high so they would not drag her down. The water came to her knees but she managed to cross. It was slower than she was in the woods, but she made it. No arrows streaked past her, so she thought she was far enough ahead that her slowness would not be her death. She made it acoss the river, lowered her skirts and petticoats to their proper modest length and continued to run.
Her cloth shoes were soaked and she knew they would rub her feet raw in places as she ran in them wet but it couldn’t be helped.
‘At least it was too warm for stockings,’ She thought. The water ran off her legs and while it dampened her lowest petticoat it didn’t hinder her running. She scrambled up the bank on the other side and as she plunged into the forest on the other side she risked a glance back. She could still see the outlines of the riders but they were further away than she thought. She raced forward.
She still needed more distance.
The path was easier as though the trees were helping her. They seemed almost to get out of her way, the undergrowth sliding to the side to create a path for her.
Ten til Midnight 