Samantha was in pain, to be fair she had been in pain for most of her life but right now was definitely within the top ten most painful. Had she been conscious even a second longer during her ill-fated fight she may have concluded the unrestrained and unnecessarily harsh punch to the face mixed with her extreme hunger, thirst, sore feet, multiples cuts and finally a knifed jabbed into her leg was in fact the most painful event she had ever experienced. Fortunately sweet, sweet unconsciousness had taken her at the exact moment of impact.
She was no doubt in absolute agony, yet the pain was strangely less than expected. Had she finally done the impossible? Had she found a way to turn off her nerves, ignore fatigue and become truly pain free? That would definitely have made her walk through the woods much more bearable. Shifting her head slightly proved her delusions wrong as a torturous agony tore through her entire body causing her to weakly cry out. Welp, concluded Samantha, this isn’t fun, not one bit. At least the dirt she was sprawled upon was comfortable, softer than normal in fact, not to mention her cloak was several times thicker and warmer. If this was dying, then it was far more luxurious than she imagined. It was however an incredibly boring death, dying in the heat of battle, now that is where it’s at. Charging into the knife throwing girl seemed like such an epic moment in her exhaustion addled brain. She imagined gracefully dodging or parrying each strike with her shadows before snatching victory with a powerful strike of some sort. Kicking was out of the question she couldn’t lift her feet very high especially not after being stabbed. Punching was also a no go what with the cut on her hand. Perhaps a headbutt? People back home said she was dumb as a rock, so maybe her head had the properties of one. Samantha imagined numerous scenarios where she may have won her first real fight to the enamoured applause of no one until a sound to her side broke the illusion of death.
For the first time since waking she realised, she wasn’t laid out slowly dying on the hard earth as her final resting place. Instead, she was on some soft, cushioned and warm whatchamacallit. Her wounds were also in a lot better shape although they still throbbed and caused her head to hurt. Peaking her eyes open, she was first met with the sight of a wooden ceiling illuminated by flickering candlelight. She watched the lights dance along the beams above her with wonder while trying to piece together where she was. A slight cough to her right caused Samantha to twist her head, which only shot more arrows of pain throughout her body contributing to the torment she wilfully ignored. There was a man sitting in a chair, fiddling with some leather thing she couldn’t make out. More importantly was the steaming bowl resting between them on a high table. Its aroma captured her, there was something so tantalizingly pungent and delectable about the bowls contents.
Samantha’s eyes flickered from the man to the bowl and back again while trying to judge if this was yet another cruel torture tactic. He reminded her of one of the guards back home, he was tall with a hard face and a wide torso that seemed to make any shirt he wore ill-fitting at best and borderline obscene at worst. The bowl of mystery goop however, was so close she could reach out and touch it if not for her exhausted barely functional arms. She felt moisture build in her mouth and let it slowly dribble into the soft thing beneath her head. What she wouldn’t give to be some kind of long necked, yellow and brown spotted quadruped so she could reach over and have a taste. Samantha had to admit, she wasn’t familiar with animals in general but even that mental image was quite frankly absurd and could never exist.
“It’s hot, you’ll have to wait a little bit longer.”
The main said without looking at Samantha. She froze her distracted thoughts shattered and her full attention brought back to the broad man.
“My niece wanted to be here and watch over you, but it is my home, and you are my guest for the time being. I allowed her to give you something to drink while you slept. You very much needed it and nearly finished a whole buckets worth of water.”
He said with a light chuckle, mirth tinging his voice, yet did not reach his eyes. He stared at her, trying to find something she couldn’t begin to understand. Swallowing hard, Samantha chocked out the first thing she could think to say.
“Did… did I win?”
The man’s jaw dropped; he blinked rapidly trying to understand the question until his eyes grew wide as the dots connected. He loudly slapped his knee and let out a hearty laugh that filled room. The jolly guffaw lasted a few seconds the man wiping a tear from his eye confusing Samantha. She wasn’t quite sure, but assumed the answer was no she hadn’t won. This time that is, there was always next time if she was alive to enact her revenge. Future plans aside, why would this man offer food, water, and a comfy thing if she lost against whoever this ‘my niece’ was? Could he be an idiot? A knock came from the door and the man’s laughter slowly died down. He rose to exit the room, lingering in the door way to look over Samantha, his expression unreadable, before closing the door behind him. Samantha could barely make out muffled words coming from the other side but what they were discussing she couldn’t begin to guess.
It didn’t really matter, this was her chance, her moment to escape, she did it once and could do it again. Summoning all her might she commanded her body to leap out of the confines of this soft prison and scurry out the nearest exit. On the count of three she would move.
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“One. Two. Three!”
With all the strength in her body Samantha successfully lifted a single finger before giving up, completely exhausted. Catching her breath, she counted down again and produced even better results, a whole foot twitched this time. The process continued several more times, each attempt bearing more fruitful results. By the eighth try, she had lifted her head off the all-encompassing softness and was able to keep it air borne for a good five seconds. The agonizingly long rest period that followed each successful escape attempt seemed to grow longer as well, however.
Letting her head fall back while gasping for air, Samantha turned to gaze longingly at the bowl again. It wasn’t steaming anymore but that tantalizing smell persisted. If only she could reach over and get a handful of gruel, then she could find the strength to wrestle out of her current predicament and perhaps even take on her captors. A thought sprang to mind seeing the flickering candlelight illuminate the bowl and a mysterious metal object set beside it. A wicked grin stretched across the girl’s face; freedom would soon be hers.
Valerie seated herself at the recently cleaned dining table with her uncle sat opposite her. Ever since returning from his hunt, he refused to look directly at her, not even a glance. It didn’t make sense, she was the one who disobeyed her uncle’s orders and brought trouble home, so why did he look like the guilty one? She scolded herself once again for her stupid actions, if she had just gone out hunting like he asked none of this would have happened. But then what would have happened to Samantha? She looked to be on deaths door, ready to fall over the threshold and Valerie may have accidentally pushed her over the edge. She wished with every fibre of her being that Samantha would be alright. She couldn’t help but imagine all the worst possible scenarios the least of which would be being forced to bury they first person she had seen in, well, ever. What if she never met another living soul? What if her and her uncle moved somewhere else, even more remote and sealed away. What if she missed her chance to escape yet again? Before she could panic any further, her uncle turned to face her directly with a stone-cold expression.
“I’ve made a decision about… our guest.”
The out of the blue statement ripped Valerie from her self-loathing however it only caused her heart to beat ever faster. She knew her uncle had secrets and wasn’t just a simple woodsman, the training she underwent was obvious enough but the way he held himself and how his head always seemed to be on a swivel ready for anything told a story Valerie wasn’t quite sure she was ready to hear. Her uncle’s words hung in the air for a moment before Valerie nodded knowing there was nothing she could do if he decided to ‘take care of’ Samantha. Sucking in a tired breath James continued.
“We are going to look after that girl and watch over her until she is in better health. When she is fit and able to walk again, I am going to offer her… a choice.”
Valerie was dumbstruck, she was sure her uncle would take the easier permanent option. Everything they had done for Samantha so far was reactionary, just the simple instinct to help another person in need. Questions formed and fell on Valerie’s tongue as she tried to understand, until finally finding the perhaps not right thing to say.
“I… I don’t get it, I thought you… well, you would… um, you know?”
She regretted her words immediately as her uncle’s face dropped slightly in shame. The thought did pass through his mind, but there was something he dared not share with his niece, afraid voicing it would only cause the worst to happen. This was possibly only the first of many hints from someone above that it’s time his niece set her out on her own. Snuffing out this possibility would only mean something potentially far worse would come along instead and in the end his niece would be no better off. While he accepted the cards fate dealt him, James was unwilling to play them without fixing the game in his favour. Presenting a clearly fake smile, he attempted to mollify his niece’s worries.
“I’m not a monster, she’s no older than you and I won’t be the kind of person who didn’t at least try to help someone else. I’m going to make sure that girl can leave this house healthy and ready to get wherever she needs to be.”
He was not going to voice his concerns about Valerie’s place in this world, afraid once again it would simply force events into motion. Before his days hiding out at the cabin, he was a rare specimen amongst his peers; wholeheartedly believing fate played a bigger hand in people’s lives than anyone truly knew. He was often mocked for thinking like a priest, utterly devoted to the divine who governed all aspects of their world. No doubt his niece would take after her mother and think less of him for it as well. Valerie rested her elbows on the table while cupping her chin, she thought about her uncle’s words before voicing another question.
“What decision are you going to give her?”
“Not your concern.”
James answered immediately, the sudden dismissive tone completely derailing Valerie. All the anxiety she felt up to this point was replaced with righteous teenage fury. Her face twisted back into her usual scowl, a welcome sight for James as it had been missing for most of the evening.
“What does that even mean? ‘Not my concern’. I brought her here I should be allowed to be involved!”
Valerie demanded with indignation. Standing up straight, James towered over his niece and laid down the law.
“No, it doesn’t. You brought this problem into our home, and you will help to fix it, but what I am going to offer that girl is for her alone to decide. If you knew you would only try to influence her decision, and I will NOT have that.”
The two family members locked eyes, unwavering in their own ideas of what was right. James ultimately ended the feud, turning towards to his new guest room while talking back to his niece.
“This is final, if you want to help that girl then check on her, clean her wounds, replace her bandages and…”
He swallowed a lump in his throat, his next statement may prove the most crucial or perhaps detrimental.
“… be a friend. I’m guessing that girl could use one.”
Ofcourse the truth was his niece was the one in real need of a friend and they both knew it. Depending on Samantha’s choice she could very well be a good influence on his niece and help to abate some of her wild tendencies. At that moment, a crash and a yelp rang out from the guest room causing both James and Valerie to rush in. What they found was Samantha face down on the hard wood flooring with spilled soup across the bed and a shadowy tendril gripping a spoon menacingly in their direction. Muffled by the floor Samantha spoke with the almighty fury of a psychiatric patient after being told they cannot eat the crayons.
“Stand back! I’m armed!”
James looked up to the ceiling and wondered who up there decided this was the best sign for his niece to leave the nest.