"Despite her most overpowering instincts to run and hide from the great beast that lurked beneath Allister's deathly pale skin, despite the most natural instincts engraved into her human mind, Ainslie couldn't resist the deep bond she felt for a man...
The sun was at it's highest point in the sky, the blinding rays of light streaking through the canopy of leaves hanging above the dense, darkened dry, dirt ground below. This part of the land was quieter than most, hidden within shadowed crevices with mostly no sign of life except from the lone, odd crow swooping through the aged branches and perching on the thin wooden arms of the trees, staring at the struggling figures with it's beady eyes.
They had not been moving long and already Allister was as pale as a sheet with beads of sweat rolling down the hard, wide expanse of his back. He was limping heavily on his right leg, his lower left one was stained almost entirely with blood. Ainslie felt sick at just the sight of his mangled limb but his determination to trudge on was astounding. Ainslie didn't know how long he could keep moving before he eventually collapsed but she prayed with each step that they would find shelter before then.
While just being able to stand in front of her this very second was a feat of immeasurable strength of will, with a wound that gruesome, Ainslie was terrified he would not survive the entirety of their already agonising journey.
She no longer knew how far out from Bolham they were, and didn't even know which direction the village was in. Ainslie knew she'd never be able to lead herself home and survive, knowing almost certainly that Allister would strive to never return there again.
Only God would be able to save them now.
Darkness came quickly, the sun sinking into the earth with no concern to how Ainslie and Allister would fare in what seemed to be the Earth's own personal Hell. Ainslie couldn't stop the horrendously loud chattering of her teeth and the quivering of her body. Each limb seemed to have a life of it's own as she stumbled behind Allister's large, staggering frame.
Ainslie's whole body was aching, never before had she travelled on foot for so long. The bare soles of her dainty feet were burning and blisters, she was sure, would form. She had not drank a thing for a whole day, encouraging the relentless pounding of her head.
What's more, in addition to the physical stress plaguing her body, the confliction of her heart and mind left a sickly suffering in the depths of her stomach. Allister had bravely saved her life, prevented her from the agony of her body being ravenously mutilated by a foul, vicious creature, but there was a whispered voice - her conscience, or the voice of God perhaps - constantly questioning the truth of Allister's existence and how she came to be in his company. It was foolish to believe in such Satanic myths. Yet she couldn't help wonder that he was no ordinary man, he was dangerous, other-worldly. Cursed. It was illogical to entrust her safety in him and yet she had no other choice. Without him she would surely not survive more than an hour.
She wanted to cry ever so badly but with one concerned glance over at Allister, who now looked one step away from a prolonged meeting with death, she knew he was battling far worse. But alas, as more excruciating time passed Ainslie could not stop her will from cracking and shattering pathetically.
"All-allister-" she stammered. "We ne-eed to stop, nee-ed to rest."
From a couple of staggered steps in front, he grunted heavily and plowed on. His pace was painstakingly slow but neither of them could move any faster. Allister's thigh now adorned a blood soaked, once white, makeshift bandage tied tightly around the thick muscle. Ainslie had cared little about the filthy nightgown and had ripped away at the hem in hopes that it would buy them more hours.
"Allis-" Ainslie tripped and plummeted to the ground, both hands striking out to protect her face from the fall. She fell roughly with a loud thud and a loud cry. Sharp bursts of a scorching pain struck a flaming path through her delicate wrists. She tried to gather herself back onto her feet but her arms were shaking with the energy it required to just simply lift her head away from the grimy dirt.
She tried to call out to Allister again but burst into a violent fit of coughing, her chest heaving harshly. She rolled to her side, blinking out towards him blearily through the darkness with only the ghostly glow of the moon to light their way. He was dragging himself to her side, his features twisted in agony as his body suddenly dropped just inches from her frail figure. Allister's arms curved around her body to raise her into his chest and lift her away from the ground as she spluttered.
Ainslie felt ever so cold, she would not be able to keep her eyes open much longer. The profound quaking of her body had begun to dissipate and Ainslie could only find enough strength to turn her face into Allister's hard chest, savouring the seeping heat.
Just a day ago Ainslie was at home in the manor, in her bed, safe. She was alive and living well, her whole life planned out ahead of her and now, in just the space of the rise and fall of the sun, her future had died for certain. She would never see her home again, the staff, her father, Darniel.
And yet she had lived more of a life our here in just a day than all of her sixteen years in Clayworth Manor, experienced real hardships and finally spoken her mind no matter how bitter the words.
Ainslie tried to move in Allister's arms but she couldn't feel her hands or feet and her lips were numb.
"Allister?" She croaked quietly, a sharp ache pulsing through her chest as fear stabbed at the back of her mind. He didn't reply, didn't shift. It was only the slight movement of his chest as his breaths wavered that proved he was still alive. "Allister?" Ainslie whimpered.
He couldn't leave her now, not after coming this far. She needed him, she wouldn't survive without him.
Ainslie managed to crane her head back slowly, abundantly aware of the dark spots filtering her vision as she squinted through the night up at his blank expression. His face seemed far too pale under the moonlight and his inky hair was matted to the damp skin of his forehead.
"Please Allister, wake up, please!" Ainslie begged. Her words were slow and slurred, barely louder than a whisper as her eyes lids drooped heavier and heavier. She was struggling to even breathe. Allister didn't shift and Ainslie's heart sank, the aching pain now throbbing persistently. It was as her head dropped and her body curled into Allister's fading heat that the hazy orange flare of a flame shone through the trees.
A fire. It had to be. How ironic was it that just as Ainslie was about to die from the icy temperatures she would instead perish to the unforgiving scorching flames of a raging woodland fire?
Ainslie eyes clenched shut. Ainslie could not understand how a fire had formed. But then she heard the deep murmur of voices, seemingly echoing in the shell of her ear. They were loud yet muffled. Ainslie moaned in fear, fatigue and hunger. The voices grew louder, deafening. One tiny hand of hers gripped Allister tightly. She couldn't lose him.
She needed him.
The noise was thunderous, it was no longer the sound of voices but the tremendous sound of the Earth growling all around her. Her sight was gone, her body stiff and all she felt before fully succumbing to the gentle pull of death was a sudden surge in heat.
Then she was gone.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
So this is meant to be a fast paced story but let me know if you think it's moving too quickly. If you're liking the story so far please leave a comment an vote!
