Two women ran through the dense forest. Both were panting rough, ragged breaths.  The younger of the two looked to be struggling the most. Her light blue hair was matted down from sweat and clung to her face and neck.  The elegant dress she wore was not made for running, and It was torn all over and covered with patches of mud.  Running through the woods in heels was impossible.  She had lost them some time ago.  Her bare feet had been torn to shreds by the rough forest floor. The pain shooting from her feet was unbearable.  She knew she had to ignore it, but she was not sure how much longer she would be able to.  

The woman that was leading the pair had medium length brown hair that fell to her shoulders; it was currently pulled back in a ponytail.  Most of it was now falling down due to exertion and catching on tree branches.   Her clothing was at least more appropriate for her current environment, but it still was extremely expensive to be used in the woods.  She had dark pants and boots with a blue overcoat. It had a hint of a military aesthetic.  The coat  was tattered, but it was not from wear and tear.  Each exposed hole looked to be a clean-cut, hints of blood could be seen around the edges. 

As the pair continued their rapid pace through the forest, they came upon a small fallen tree blocking their path.   

“Watch your footing coming up here, we have to go over, princess,” the leading woman said to her charge.  

The pair reached the fallen tree, but the younger of the two was not able to muster the energy to jump.  She tripped, falling face first into the mud on the other side, dragging her partner down with her.  

“I…can…not….” she said between deep, painful breaths.

“I know it is hard, princess, but we cannot stop here. They will catch you.  We are almost to Waldron. I only pray we’ll be able to rely on someone there,” she said as she rose to her feet, trying to pull her charge up as well.

“Charlotte… leave me.  We will not make it out of here.  They only want me,”  the princess said to her protector.  

“You know full well I would never do that.  I would never be able to face your mother if I abandoned you.” 

A pained look fell over the princess’s face.  She knew when she gave that command the knight that stood before her would never do what she asked.  The current situation was hopeless.  They had been running for hours now.  They had the advantage that the woods were dense, and their pursuers did not know the direction they had escaped.  The brigands would have had to fan out from the ambush site,  once they had finished the royal guards that had stayed behind.  

As that thought went through her mind, the princess felt tremendous guilt at the number of lives that had already been sacrificed to save hers. 

“We don’t have time for this princess, please get up.” Just as Charlotte finished her statement, they heard shouting in the distance.  Charlotte knelt next to her charge and pulled her up by the shoulders.  

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In a low but commanding voice the Knight pressed the princess with a question

“Who are you!”

“I am a fool.”

Charlotte shook her

“Who are you!”

The princess knew what her Knight was asking her.  In the past to motivate her, the queen often used this question to focus the princess’s mind and remind her of what was most important. 

“I am the First princess Of Galand Anastasia Volkov, Daughter of Queen Milena Volkov”

“Correct. Would the Queen stop now and give in to these men who want to take everything she has?”

“No.”

“Then why the hell are you!” The last statement came out more of a yell than Charlotte had meant.

Only one other time had the knight captain of her guard spoken to a royal the way she had just then, but it had the desired effect.

“You are correct Charlotte. I am sorry for my weakness.  Let’s go.” Princess Anastasia rose to her feet. She could not hide the wince of pain as her bare feet pressed into the cool earth.

“Good, now head the direction we have been going as fast as you can.  There should be a town just after the forest ends. Head to the adventurer’s guild. It is your best bet at this point,”  Charlotte said, trying to smile to give her charge confidence. 

“What are you saying? We can go together.”

“They are too close now. Once we start running again, we will make too much noise, and they will close in on us.  I am unsure if we will be able to outrun them.”

“Now who is giving in.”

“I am not giving in.  I have weighed the options before us and found this is the one most likely to succeed.”

“I order you to come with me.”

“I will respectfully decline that, your highness. Now go, every second you waste arguing with me your chance of getting to the town decreases.”

“I cannot leave you… I will not make it on my own,” Anastasia said, the tears that she thought had dried up hours ago now flowing stronger than ever. 

“You are stronger than you know.” Charlotte brought her hand to Anastasia’s face cupping her cheek and wiping some of the dirt from it.

“I am going to draw them to me.  If you stay with me, you will be caught. Now go!”

Anastasia could not bring herself to move and stood frozen in place.  Charlotte knew she had no choice but to force the princess’s hand.

“I AM RIGHT HERE!  COME AND GET ME!”  As she said that, Charlotte gave the princess a shove in the correct direction and headed the opposite, making as much noise as she could.

Anastasia stood frozen for a few more seconds before coming back to herself.  The analytical part of her brain knew that what Charlotte was doing was the best option for success, but her heart could not bear what would come next.  

Anastasia started running in the direction she was told.  She heard the clang of metal on metal for several minutes. It grew faint the more distance she gained, before it stopped completely. The pain in her chest was the only thing she should feel.  The pain from her tired body and her injured feet was blocked out of her mind.  She would not waste this chance. 

Fifteen Minutes later she reached the edge of the forest.  Once she broke the tree line, she could see the town she needed to get to in the distance. The light from torches standing out against the inky blackness of a new moon night.