The trees sheltered her, but not for much longer. The men swung their iron swords, cutting through the trees as they made chase. 

She clung to the bundled wrapped in leaves and moss and made her way from tree to tree, her body blending into the bark and the surrounding foliage. In her haste, she tripped and a tiny yelp escaped her throat, followed by a horrified gasp at her own slip up. 

She heard the men shout and she ran again, clenching her child as tightly as she could. The shock had awoken the babe from its slumber and she started to cry. The noise echoed across the forest and the mother tried desperately to silence her infant daughter. The men followed the cries and the further they went the more visible the dryad’s silhouette became. The trees became sparse and the land itself spread open, not allowing her enough coverage.

She jumped over a log but felt her ankle burn at the iron chain that wrapped around her, pulling her to the ground. She landed on her back to shield her child from the fall. Her back ached from the collision.

The moonlight peeked from behind a dark cloud and in a small glen the dryad was surrounded by Camelot knights, blocking all openings as they closed in.

“Hand it over!” Demanded one of the men. The dryad shielded her crying baby. Her sunflower hair had been blown into an unkempt mess and the floral wreath that adorned her head was nothing but a withering slump of what once was. The baby cried louder and with a wave of her hand, the dryad summoned the tree behind the soldier to attack him. The branches came to like, stretching out like hands, but the knight cut the branches off in one swing.

The dryad screamed in pain, feeling the burn of iron stain her magic as it had done since they caught her near the farmlands plucking strawberries from one of the farmers.

“Please.” She cried.

The knight ignored her and lifted his sword above his head. Another knight readied his crossbow. The quiver was also made out of iron. 

The dryad cried, her tears peppering her baby’s forehead as she kissed her goodbye.

Another cloud made its way across the sky, covering the full moon. Once the glen was shrouded in darkness again a burst of light surrounded the men, entrapping the dryad and her child inside a circle of fire. She gasped, curling inwards so as to avoid being burned by the flames. Though the fires gave away heat, they did not burn the grass or the trees in the area. 

The fire wasn’t man-made it was fae-made 

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

The knight with the sword spun around to look for the cause of the mysterious fire circle, only to receive a kick in the stomach, his arm twisted so far back it became dislocated. He received a blow to the head and he fell unconscious. The others searched for the mysterious attacker, and one by one they received similar injuries to their comrade.

One was tripped over by what felt like a large serpent’s tail only to get dragged deep into the forest, screaming as he tried clenching onto anything hr could grab, from rocks to the very soil itself. His fingers grazed the grass and he was thrown against a tree, breaking his back, killing him. 

The remaining knights huddled together, their backs to each other in a last line of defense. The fires around the dryad expanded, forming a second circle around the men. They swung their iron weapons and the fire was extinguished upon impact.

“Fae!” One shouted, before something jumped onto his back, taking the sword from his hand and jamming it into his back. The knight bled to death. The last ones standing shrunk back when the mysterious attacker emerged from the flames.

A tall figure clad in armor the color of leaves in the darkness hours of midnight from head to toe. Their hands were covered by gloves made out of chainmail and the helmet they wore resembled that of a dragon’s skull, the horns protruding from its head.

The mysterious attacker charged ahead and snapped another knight’s neck, dislocated another’s shoulder and threw them over the fire into the nearby lake where he tried to swim away but was dragged to the bottom by an unseen force. The last knight standing begged for mercy. The attacker marched forward and pointed the tip of the sword of one of his fallen comrades. 

Seeing the body of his dead comrades, the last knight ran for his life, his hands naked of any weapons. The dryad shivered at the sight of her rescuer. With a wave of their hand, the fires disappeared, leaving nothing burnt. The dryad gasped seeing the dead human bodies.

“It’s you.” She gasped. “The Green Knight.”

“Come with me.” The Green Knight spoke in a deep, raspy voice, offering the frightened dryad their hand. With great care as one would find from a loving father, the Green Knight led the dryad and her child towards the boarders of the continent of Albion where a boat pulled by kelpies awaited. 

The Green Knight aided her onto the small boat. “Tell no one of what you saw.”

The dryad didn’t protest. She nodded and the kelpies dove into the water, pulling the boat away from Albion and into the thick mist of the world beyond.

The knight stopped at an old weeping willow with a hollow opening. Piece by piece, the knight removed their armor and stored it inside the tree. The knight inhaled and exhaled, summoning magical fire that sealed the opening. The knight released her long fiery locks from her high bun, feeling a sense of relief, but her hands were still trembling. 

Why won’t this stop already?

She dusted off her black shirt and long dark pants, running through the forest barefooted before summoning her wings and flew beyond Albion and into the mist where the boat disappeared to.