The Lonely Ones

Chapter Thirty: Duel For Your Life

A week passes with no sign of Wren. Artemis searches and waits for long hours into the night, hoping to sense Wren nearby... but there's nothing.

The other day, did he take it too far? But he had to let Wren know it isn't okay to abuse his powers. Maggie is his friend and he won't accept her being hurt. He didn't mean to make Wren think of himself as an unwanted guest. Quite the opposite, in fact. Artemis wants to see Wren again, tell him he's sorry, ask for another pebble, and hopefully see him day and night. Has he become addicted?

The answer comes in the form of Artemis' obsessive searches. He hunts shortly in the mornings, then spends most of his time scouring the woods for Wren. He spoke of mountains, but no matter how much Artemis travels, he doesn't see any. He goes further into the woods than he has ever gone, climbing the tallest trees and cliff sides to look over the canopy. That's all there is though; a canopy of trees.

"Where are you?" Artemis whispers to the wind, wishing for a sign. He starts to think a cool breeze may lead him to Wren, but it's nothing more than that, a breeze.

Further into the woods he goes, seeing what he has never seen before. There are huts built out of twigs and mud where bog witches lurk, waiting for a meal or cooking stews that smell of sweet honey. Artemis is nearly taken by the scent, his mind reeling and eyes imagining sugary treats littering the grass. But before the dream takes him, he pinches his thigh until it bleeds and awakens, swiftly scurrying far from the intoxicating scent. He had no idea bog witches caught their prey like that. He always thought they swooped into creeks or rivers, waiting for a snack.

Artemis has always been paranoid and careful, but the loss of Wren does more than expected. One moment he traverses the woods, the next he's flung into the trees. A tight rope grips his ankle. The branch it's tethered to bounces from his weight. His head smacks against the ground, dizzying him.

How thoughtless has he been to miss a trap so simple? Used to catch rabbits and foxes, but somehow snagging an entire teenage boy too obsessed over finding his lost prince to notice.

Groaning, Artemis reaches for his sword when a familiar voice calls, "I've never much believed in luck, but I must say, this is my lucky day."

The blood in Artemis' veins runs cold. Ahead, the bushes rustle. Two shimmering silver eyes peer from the dark, then a red cap steps out, bloody teeth bared; Mythik. The very red cap that has caught Artemis before and he outrun once. Behind Mythik, half a dozen red caps follow, each carrying an instrument more tortuous than the last. Their slimy smiles grow at the sight of him dangling from the rope.

"I just checked that trap a mere moment ago," Mythik says, eying Artemis' hand that has slowly inches towards his sword. "Looks like we aren't eating rabbit or goblin tonight, lads."

Artemis snatches his sword too late. Mythik whacks him upside the head sending him into painful darkness.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

Artemis wakes in the same position he was knocked out in, strewn up by his feet to a tree. His vision is blurred at first, incapable of focusing from the constant ringing in his ears and pounding in his head. Colors morph together, incapable of forming solid objects, then all comes into view.

He's at the center of a camp, surrounded by mounds of dirt where fire light trickles from within. His hands are tethered behind his back, mouth gagged, and legs held tight by thick rope. They made sure not to screw up their knots this time.

Searching the vicinity, there are no red caps in sight. They're below the ground, singing shrilling songs of death and mayhem, promising blood and pain. A giant fire rests nearby that wreaks of burning flesh. The spick over the fire covered in blood and ash suggests someone has recently been cooked and they won't be the last if Artemis doesn't escape.