(3 months later)
There was something so magically frightening about a wood — especially when tales of thieves and dangerous outlaws plagued any words ever spoken about it. Anyone who dared travel through the forest would come out robbed, beaten, or worse. Sometimes they wouldn't come back at all.
But that wouldn't keep Fiona at bay. There was too much at stake for her to be afraid. She clutched a satchel to her chest, holding it there like a shield, and took a step forward.
Stealing a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her, Fiona ran into the woods, a sick feeling dancing in her stomach.
The mustiness of dried leaves tickled her nose. Fresh air and soil mingled with the scent, creating a very earthy and almost masculine aroma.
The shadows cast by dead trees that still stood looked like piles of bones scattered about.
Bones.
Tears pooled in her eyes, tiny drops of silver that surfed down her pale cheeks.
The forest all around her blurred, just smudges of gross brown and a vague green. But she didn't let the tears flow for long. There would be time to mourn later. Besides, she couldn't risk any bandits seeing her as a weak and easy target. Of course, she was still just a lone woman, but the least she could do was remain confident. Unflustered. Definitely not scared.
It was easier to say than do.
Fiona broke down three more times after that as the hours of walking grew longer and more labored, selfishly taking their toll. Sweat beaded her fair brow, and her legs threatened to give out, leaving her without support.
Finally, after scanning her surroundings one more time, she sat to rest, a stream cooling her sore feet. She let out a sigh of relief, ignoring her vulnerability for the moment. She closed her eyes.
Birds gossiped about the princess that lay on the forest floor, speaking of her awkwardness no doubt, and of the devastating event that had turned her life into a prison of turmoil.
The sights and sounds came back to her. Oh the sounds. Her mother had been screaming — telling her to run! Not to look back, please no! Tongues of famished flames licked through the castle, searching for more than just wood to feast on. Her father threw down a satchel — yes the one she held so closely now — then told her to run! Her parents had both told her to run! So she did, paying heed. But she did indeed disobey her mother, looking back.
Men on horseback, carrying weapons of death, rode into the courtyard. Prince William's men.
Prince William.
Fiona did not continue her desperate escape before a great hatred rose in the very depths of her soul. The prince was the cause of her pain. He'd found fault within Fiona's father, and he'd chosen to snuff it out. Or rather, set fire to it. The flaw the vile heir had accused her father of was one of treason; treason against the very crown upon her father's head.
Fiona couldn't help but think it was her fault — she had stirred up anger and resentment in Prince William just a month ago, when she had refused his contract of marriage. She knew he only desired the throne, and she was the quickest route to getting it. The feeling of love had no part in prompting his proposal.
But if you had said yes, perhaps things would not have gone wrong. Things would have stayed the same.
The same.
When she finally opened her eyes, it was night. With a yawn, she looked around, unsure of what had awakened her. She looked to the stream, but her feet were dry and bent close to her, so the cold, splashing water hadn't disturbed her.
Supplying time for her eyes to adjust, she felt around for her boots, then slipped them on. Was someone watching her? Had someone tried to sneak up on her and she'd somehow heard them as they approached?
Her feet were still sore when she stood up, blisters stinging on her heels. "Who's out there?" she demanded, her voice wavering and disturbing the quiet stillness of the night.
She practically jumped out of her skin when someone answered.
"You're a long way from home."
Fiona's eyes searched the shadows. She lost her breath when someone stepped out of them. The man who approached walked quietly, his eyes intent and lit by moonlight.
Fiona felt like running into his arms when she recognized him. The Encounter. But she recaptured her composure and stood strong.
"Have you finally decided to join me? Took you long enough. What has it been? Three months?"
Fiona nodded. Three long months.
He had come in the night, ready to steal something. But she had stopped him. She didn't fight him exactly, there had been almost no physical contact — she had simply told him to leave. He'd argued with her, but then ultimately complied. He'd said she was "interesting". Though Fiona didn't want to admit it, she knew he really had been successful in stealing at least one thing that night.
He stepped towards her. "I've missed you."
Fiona limped out of his way. "I'll wager you tell that to all the women you try and rob."
He feinted surprise. "Have you pegged me a ladies man? What ever gave you that idea?" He eyed her, a teasing grin spreading on his pleasant face. "I assure you that's not the case." Then he looked down at her feet. "Hurt bad?"
Fiona shook her head, teetering from the pain, then nodded, loose hair falling against her forehead.
Without warning he took her hand and eased her over to sit down on a boulder. He knelt down and slipped her boots off. His face, just for a second, lit with tender concern, then returned to looking carefree and cocky. "This is I'd say is reason enough to bring you to camp."
"Camp?"
He nodded, studying the blisters then looking up. "The camp of the outlaws. Or as we like to call it, The Mix. You know, a little bit of this, a little of that?"
A mix of murderers, thieves, and the like. "Lovely."
"You'll see. We're not all bad." He took her hand again, helping her to her feet. His gaze never wavered. "You won't get far in this condition. I'll have to carry you." With that, he quickly swooped her up.
Fiona struggled, kicking her legs. "No! I can walk. You can't carry me — it's indecent!"
"About as indecent as me just letting you suffer. So you'll have to put up with it for this short while, Princess."
Fiona stopped squirming, though not quite relaxed. She held the satchel tight.
"Why are you here?" The man stared forward, keeping his eyes on where he was walking.
The lump in Fiona's throat arose again. "I imagine you already know."
He sighed. "Yes, well, news travels fast around here. But that doesn't answer my question. Why would you resort to coming here after all you've been through?"
"I need help."
"No kidding."
She growled. "Let me down!"
He did, and she stomped off, but she didn't get very far. Her knees hit the ground first, and she crouched down, burying her face in her hands, more hair falling free. Fiona's weeping only deepened the silence all around her. She was stuck, in darkness, and no one would comfort and help her. Not even this man she'd foolishly chosen to trust. You're alone.
A voice she didn't want to hear spoke, startling her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was insensitive of me. Please forgive me?"
Fiona pushed him away. "I should have never come here. Why did I think I could count on you? You really are just a thief. How could I be such a idiot?!"
"You're not—"
"Just stop. Go away. Leave me be."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop saying that! Everyone says that — but they never mean it! It's just a tool used to manipulate people."
He sighed. "That's probably true."
It was quiet for a while before either one of them spoke again. Sunrise streaked the sky, and birdsong started to flavor the air. A beautiful morning.
Fiona, her face pressed in her hands, whispered a childish plea. "I want to go home."
The Encounter nodded. "I know." He ambled over and lifted her up.
Finally Fiona let her eyes meet his, tears still puddling into streams.
"This time I mean it; I'm sorry." A certain desperation filled his voice, painting a picture of his sincerity.
Fiona nodded, and he pulled her into a hug. She leaned on his shoulder, embracing his warmth and strength.
He kept talking, the sound of his voice calming her. "And I want to help you. I'm here and I promise I won't leave. What do you want me to do?"
Fiona inhaled his earthy scent, then limped out of his arms and picked up her satchel, opening it. She peered inside at the jeweled splendor and slowly pulled it out for The Encounter to see. Her last remaining tears slid down her cheeks.
"You wanted to steal this crown that night, remember? Well now I'm giving it to you so you can help me save it."
