The Forest Queen: Isles & Tribulations

Chapter 2

Orlaith wanted nothing more than to scream, but the beast landed with its paws on her chest, knocking the wind out of her as her back made contact with the ground. She attempted to draw in oxygen in hysterical bursts, to no avail. The mastiff was growling, its hot breath washing over her face, its saliva dripping onto her cheeks and mixing with her tears. It snapped its jaws together, its snout mere inches from her face. Her breaths sounded like high-pitched wheezes as she attempted to make a sound.

Then, drowning out the dog's menacing growls, the sound of trotting horses filled the clearing. A piercing whistle caused the dog to whip its head around and bark. Please get it off me, Orlaith pleaded silently. Her chest felt as though it was about to cave in on itself.

Someone jumped down from a horse and walked over to the dog and the girl. “Come on, you big oaf,” a man muttered, pulling the mastiff off Orlaith's chest. He leant over her and offered her his hand. Shadows covered his face. Orlaith let him pull her to her feet.

Behind the man stood his powerful, silver-grey war horse. He was accompanied by two other men, one on an inky black stallion, the other on a mahogany mare. All three men wore elaborate suits of armour, emerald green capes hanging from their shoulders. It was clear to see that they were knights.

“I apologise on behalf of Buddy, my lady,” said the knight who had helped her stand. “He's rather easy to excite.”

My lady? Orlaith studied his face, confused. He spoke kindly, despite the fact that he had just sent a seemingly ferocious dog after her. The first signs of crow’s feet were appearing around his pale blue eyes and his orange hair was thinning. His face would have been handsome and his features chiselled once, but his skin looked as though it was beginning to lose a little of its elasticity. No matter how hard she looked, though, Orlaith failed to find any trace of malice.

“My name is Sir Walter Ivers, my lady. What might your name be?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her.

There didn't seem to be a reason for her to keep her name from him. Not only had the three knights caught her, but she had no companions in the forest to return to. When she felt that her breath had returned to her, she told him.

“Orlaith Greene,” Sir Walter repeated. “That's a pretty name.” He offered her a reassuring smile. She couldn't help but smile in return as she looked down at her feet.

“Are you sure she's the right girl, Walter?” called the knight on the black stallion. He had curly hair, as black as the horse on which he sat, with a thin coating of stubble along his chin and jawline.

Sir Walter put a finger under her chin and gently lifted her head up. He examined her face and ran a hand through her hair. Then he locked eyes with her for a full ten seconds before nodding his certainty.

“She's the right girl, Malley.”

The friendly knight got to his feet and, for the second time, offered Orlaith his hand. “If you would, my lady,” he prompted. “We are to take you to the king.”

Orlaith felt as though her heart had jumped into her mouth. “Why?” she blurted. “What have I done?” Her eyes welled up again.

“Don't worry, my lady,” Sir Walter said gently, taking Orlaith's small hand in his larger one. “No harm will come to you, I swear it.” With the gentlest of tugs, the knight led her over to his horse. He lifted her up and sat her on the horse's back, before mounting the creature himself. Signalling to his fellow knights, Sir Walter turned his horse around and headed back the way they'd come.

Triwen’s Wood was a much more peaceful place when you weren't being chased through it. Orlaith's sudden dash through the forest, not to mention her emotional whirlwind, had left her feeling drained. The gentle rocking of the horse soon lulled her into a light doze.