Winter Wildflowers

Chapter 4

Day 6

Ofelia stood, half awake, half asleep, hopelessly tugging at her rope. At this point it was more to ease her mind than accomplish a purpose. She rejected the rope, it being stained in speckles of her blood, it gave her comfort that she wasn't in agreeance to these circumstances. So, she tugged. Lifelessly and exhausted, she tugged again and again, her heavy eyes barely lifting to the rowdy crowd before her.
Like the first night she'd spent with them, the men drank the night away, laughing, singing, and brawling as they did. These men, though dishevelled in appearance and foul in nature, were mighty warriors and the more Ofelia noticed it, the more frustrated she became. It was easier to believe that these people were simple minded savages. The nature of the horrible moon soldier, however, was still a mystery to her. She didn't see him disappear into his tent at night, nor did she see him wake, he didn't socialise with his army either. Maybe he had been left to the elements like Ofelia. Deep in her thoughts, she didn't notice him staring at her from a small distance away, she only heard him near her when his armour chimed, his footsteps seeping into the snow.
She turned her head to him, but like always, she was sightless. Especially so, considering it was dusk.
He was silent as he neared her, silent as he stopped at her side, silent as he crouched. Ofelia had again been tied too high, but she had settled with kneeling for the moment, her hands taut above her head.
She heard the soldier huff before removing his helmet.
"Are your wrists not rubbed to the bone?", He amusedly muttered, keeping his distance.
"Be quiet.", Ofelia spat, turning her face away from him.
The soldier chuffed. She recalled his name, Sir Knightley.
Sir Knightley, the murderer.
He analysed her for a moment more, before lightly tugging at her sack cloth, "You are hungry.", He stated, his voice careless.
Ofelia's stomach roared at even the mention of food, so much so that she crouched into herself, "... I said- ", She croaked, suddenly breathless, "Be quiet."
The soldier ground his teeth, before wiping his face and sighing into the air. He darkly chuckled before rising, "... I thought you would've died by now."
And he left.

Another two days past, and Ofelia felt as though she was going to rot. If her limbs were to fall off her body, it was better they do it today. She was growing tired at her circumstances. For a week, she had survived off half a bread roll and whatever snow she could hydrate herself with through her mask. It was an interesting circumstance though in that she no longer felt any hunger, and rarely the cold. She was glad for that revelation as her hunger had distracted her for long enough. Instead, a subtle numbness had begun to settle over her. She stared at her sackcloth day and night, walked and stood until she collapsed day and night, tugged and pulled at her rope day and night. She feared that her composure was going to break any one of these days now. Hopelessness was infecting her mind. When the afternoon settled in, she finally felt a soothing chill on her forearms.
Snowflakes.
Tears broke in her eyes and she firmly pressed her lips together.
"... Pa!", she suddenly hollered, startling the men around her. She cried out again, "Pa! Ma!... Pa!", she yanked herself against her ropes, stumbling to the ground and fighting the horse, "Pa!", she whimpered. The Lily of the Valley! Her father! The horse pulling her halted and its rider dismounted. She ducked her head and whispered, "... The first snow."
Hastily, the moon soldier caught grip of her frock and ripped her from the ground, pulling her as she stumbled along. He growled in frustration as she tripped, whipping back to her. Making quick work of it, he ripped apart her knots, shed her of her sack cloth, sliced her wrist roping. As her eyes adjusted to the first light in days, he shoved her to the ground and furiously towered over her. She dazedly focused in on him.
He stood seething, his eyes wishing her death from within his helmet. Ofelia gulped. Again, he looked like the moon. She stared at him a moment before glancing to her free hands, the skin mangled several layers deep. Gently, she hid them within the clutches of her cloak before looking back to him.
He sneered at her before gesturing to the forest.
"Look.", He spat, his stature wild, "Look!", He screamed, "Look at where you want to go and leave!"
Ofelia hesitated for a moment before scrambling to her feet, she tripped to the side once before gathering herself up, swaying and staggering. She looked towards where he pointed and instantly, it dawned on her. She stared out into the white abyss.
"Leave you wretched woman!", He hissed, "Leave. Run to your death."
Ofelia stood taken aback, staring at where he wanted her to but staying put. The hopelessness of it all suddenly dawned on her. Ofelia was seven days travel from her home in a direction she didn't know of, with no shelter and no food. The hope of running to a nearby village had been decimated days ago. She had no knowledge of the moon soldier's plans, only the guess that this raid had only just begun. She estimated that she was to travel a whole lot longer with these men before she was set free.
And her father wasn't coming to get her. Tears sprang in her eyes.
The soldier shoved her in the direction, and she fell to her knees. She hung her head. A tightness seized her throat.
"Go.", The soldier said, his anger morphing into triumph. Ofelia stared at the ground and ran a finger across a stick poking out of the snow. Maybe this stick bloomed in spring. Ofelia wondered the colour of the flowers when it did.
The soldier stood silent behind her, as did the rest of the surrounding men. Ofelia bitterly chuckled and wiped her eyes.
Hopeless.