Chapter Three

10 2 0
                                    

Cassandra

Early the next morning I threw on modest, vanilla garb and raced downstairs, tidying my nest of hair on the way. Ma was already awake, fixing a light breakfast of rye bread, squares of cheese, and the leftover raspberry pie.

"Where are you going?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"To Claire's." I snatched a slice of bread off the table and stuffed it into my mouth.

Ma slid the pie across the table. "Take the rest of this while you're at it. I know Claire has a sweet tooth."

"Thanks," I mumbled, mouth still full. I picked up the pan and shuffled out of the house.

The sky was clouded in a dusted grey, the sun shyly peeking out in a few places. The wind played with my hair, decimating whatever attempts I had made earlier to tame it.

Claire lived a little way down the street, near the town square. Her father was a leatherworker, and it was more convenient for him to reside close to the marketplace, whereas my father was a fur trapper, and we lived close to the wildlife.

I snuck a glance at the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of fur. Instead, I felt a hypnotic pull, inviting, calling me to enter the wood's embrace. I looked back down the street. Claire would be awaiting my arrival. I set the pie down on the stump of a tree. I'm sure Claire wouldn't mind if I was a few minutes late.

I raced down the hill, the wind pushing me forward, and entered the forest. The moment I stepped past the treeline, I felt a chill surge through the woods. Believing it to be only a cold front, I continued walking, curiosity dragging me on a leash.

The cozy, forest ambiance flaked away the deeper I ventured, and a fierce malaise began to churn in my gut. Shadows swarmed the sun, the sky, pitching the land into darkness as a heavy fog set in. The wind whistled, rattling the decrepit branches of the trees. The sounds roared in my ears and deafened my own thoughts. A foul stench crept into my nose and I gagged, having tasted it rancid in my mouth. The smell was sickeningly sweet, like perfume sprayed on rotting meat that had been left out in the summer heat. It was overpowering.

I covered my mouth and nose with my sleeve, backing away from the odor. I turned to flee and my heart skipped a beat. All familiarity had been swallowed, gone.

I was lost.

Whirling, I frantically scanned the shadowed woods, searching for the traces of my village, for any ray of light. The patchy, scraping of movement on detritus pricked my ears and I spun around.

A mangled, battered wolf limped towards me, movements jerky and spasmodic. It stared at me with glazed, hollowed eyes, and its jaw hung open, slack, ajar.

I stumbled backward as the wolf began to retch, heaving up its insides. An inky black mass spewed from its mouth, landing in a viscous heap. The wolf forthwith crumpled to the ground, and the black mass began to writhe and squirm, contorting its body. A serpent. It caught a whiff of my presence, forked tongue flicking, and slithered towards me.

I kicked at the ground, sending dust flying as I put as much space as I could between me and the creature.

"Cassandra," it groaned. Its voice was raspy and arid like the rustling of dead leaves. "I want you. I need you. Let me in."

Scrambling to my feet, I ran. Thorns and briars nicked my arms. Uplifted roots reached for my legs, wanting to pull me down.

"Keep running, little mouse," the snake cackled. " For when you succumb to exhaustion, I'll be there to claim you."

The forest was against me, bending to the serpent's will. Branches shot out in my path, intertwining to form gnarly walls, a cage.

"I'm coming, little mouse."

Lunar ZenithWhere stories live. Discover now