The Dark Queen ✔

17

Everyone I loved was dead. 

It was the only thought in my head when the darkness set me down in the wilderness. I was too numb to feel anything. Too exhausted to cry. And too angry to think straight. 

Tristian was going to be king of the Northern and Southern Kingdoms. And if I didn't do anything, he would take over all of Vivianenth. I could not let that happen. Not after what he did to me. Not after what he has done to my family.

I was deep in the heart of a forest, the trees pressing in, the canopy too thick to see daylight. I could tell by the impending gloom that night was coming soon. I was far away from the spring court. I was far away from anywhere. 

I stood on shaky legs and made it three steps before I threw up. Acid burned my throat. Tears stung my eyes. I put a hand against the tree to steady myself. I needed a plan, I needed shelter, I needed water. 

I looked around the forest, trying to pin point where I was. The trees were tall, with low hanging branches and heavy leaves. The ground was covered in ferns and plants. In the morning, I would look for berries, maybe get a rabbit. I may have been royalty, but I had learned how to survive anywhere. 

I stumbled to a tree with branches I could reach and climb.  I didn't know what lived in these woods. I was too tired to try to find water, my thoughts too muddled to make a coherent plan. I found a weeping willow tree, climbed it carefully, and sat down against the trunk. The horrors of what had happened crashed down on my tired mind and I sobbed until I fell asleep. 

I was shivering when I opened my eyes. I looked down at myself. Still wearing a silly dress, which was ripped and stained with blood. I tore my eyes away from the scarlet stains, willing myself not to think. I needed to plan. 

The dewy grass stuck to my bare feet as I jumped down from the tree. When I circled the tree, I was greeted with a babbling stream. I looked around and saw more willow trees, their branches hanging low over the water. I started to walk upstream. 

The stream widened into a thin river. I stopped when I reached a section that was shallow, the bottom covered in smooth stones. I stripped off the dress and sat on a rock, washing my dress in the cool water. 

The blood washed away, carried down by the current. Mud and leaves washed off, also. When I was done washing it, I hung it over a low bough. I took careful sips of the water and tried not to think. I found berries I knew were safe to eat and gathered them. 

I started to eat them. They tasted good, but soon the berries stained my hands red. Red as the blood of my family as they were killed in front of me. The blood that coated my hands when I stabbed Peter in the heart. The color that dripped from his fangs-

I hurled the berries into the underbrush and scraped the red from my hands, washing them off. I sat on the river bank and started crying again. 

What was I going to do?