All four locks were across my door. I blindly shoved clothes into a sack.

Rushing down the pearl white corridors the advisor hurried to me, noticing my change of footwear.

‘My Queen, where are you going?’

‘I…I-…’ My skin felt cold, face finding new ages and weights. Collecting myself enough I swallowed to talk ‘to the Fae Federation. It’s run by felden, they will help us. We can’t live in the dark until these Snatchers die.’ I gripped my Ruler of Fate symbol around my neck with chalky fingers.

‘But who will rule in your stead?’

‘My cousin, under your advice. But I, pray, won’t be gone long.’

‘But the Federation is a week’s trek by the crow flies, and the boy hasn’t seen his twelfth winter!’

‘You have discipline over him that you would not have over my uncle. It ensures powers return to me with my return.’

‘How will you travel?’

‘My gerso, discreetly. Alone. But to stay here is like a boat on waves, praying the waters will take you to refuge. No, I will be this kingdoms sail.’

‘With a child-captain.’ The advisor added, but I pretended not to hear.

They stopped at the final doors, so mighty, so towering…

The royal advisor bowed low, ‘I shall pray to Itha-Shaw for your safety and success.’

‘And I you.’

The doors opened to reveal sleets of rain, shrouding the world in grey. I fastened my coat and blindly gripped my necklace as if it where my strength, as if it were to drain away in such waters. Not daring to look back, the fires there offered no warmth, I hurried into the rain and mumbled a prayer:

“From the seas,

To the stars.

To the Ruler of Fates

and what you create

Itha-Shaw

Goodness and villainy

Greatness and despair,

Protect my legacy from misfortune!”

***

The feet of my gerso thudded rhythmically as it ran across the forest floor through towering grass blades. I needed to get away from there, away from the kingdom. There was nothing better than my gerso for that. I gripped the saddle as it ran as fast as it could, darting through brambles and tree roots.

The rain was thundering on my already chilled bones. Some dragons were known to hold the ability to control the rains, to halt, lessen or begin: I wished for such greatness now. Or even the simplicity of flying, like the winged fae. With every step my gerso took it splashed up more mud. I could feel cling to my bare legs and now ruined dress. A freezing shiver buried down to my core, my drenched supplies now like a boulder on my back.

I never even left the kingdoms walls, the furthest I travelled before was… I thought back: Pipers Pies, at the wall edge. My mouth salivated at the thought of those sweet cherry pies…

The day had continued on for the journey until the bright grey dulled dark. Night was coming. Not too soon later my complaining stomach marked the end of my day. Pulling back on the reins the creature stopped at the base of a mighty tree root. Hoping off into mud I sunk up to my knees. I wadded over and tied Forta (my gerso) to a grass blade, making sure it was beside the root if the pet ever wished to seek shelter. It wouldn’t travel far- the thing was too stupid for curiosity.

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Next, I fished through my bag to find tent supplies… They were heavy and, in honesty, I only knew how to get other people to put one up, I had never needed to pitch one myself. On unfurling the fabric I wondered if it came with instructions… What felt like a long while later, getting far too wet in the miserable rain, it was crude and near collapsing. ‘I hate this!’ I shouted, kicking some slushy mud away! That felt good. ‘I HATE THIS!’ I bellowed from my lungs, ‘I HATE THIS, I HATE IT I DESPISE THIS STUPID RAIN AND IT’S FREEZING! I REGRET WEARING A DRESS!’ I spluttered, throat sore. Grumbling I fished around the mud and helped prop the tent up with some sticks. The rain thickened quickly until it shrouded everything around me, like my head was being hammered. And then the tent collapsed. I shouted a swear! Learning quick the forest couldn’t judge. To me it was guttural and booming, but a bird a few trees away could only hear a very faint high-pitched squeak. The ground was relatively dry under the roots natural kink and hoped my sleeping bag wouldn’t get too ruined on my ridiculous escapade. I flung up the tent like a curtain to the shelter and ripped grass up. I used the emerald ribbons across my shelter for added layers and warmth since the autumn rain was sucking it all from the air. It was a meagre shelter which a child could have done better, but it would suffice one night. Ripping off a final grass blade the edge sliced across my palm, streaking it crimson. ‘Ah!’ I recoiled my hand, the slash stung, and unknowing how to deal with physical pain effectively I shook it as a heavy raindrop washed it quickly, and suffered the sting until it passed.

Finishing the rip slowly and carefully I laid this one across the floor. It was dried of raindrops and preferable to the mud. I reveled in the icy coldness of my pained palm, far preferable than the inner, burning pain of a severed family… A tear escaped my welling eyes but rubbed it away quickly, no point in mourning what I would save… and I would save them.

With the dawn I woke drearily, feeling grit in my eyes. Throat sore, body aching, skin tender from the cold, I forced myself up and broke into a fit of sneezes, blocking my piteous thoughts. Grateful to get off the damp sleeping mat stepped out into the new day. The rain had drained the sky of clouds, revealing a sheet of cyan. Turning to my gerso, Forta, made sadness seep deeper within me than rainwater could. I had forgot to remove her saddle and by extension our food bags. The thing had eaten it all! Tears pricked my eyes. It was all too much! ‘YOU IDIOT!’ I exploded. Shouting and crying out at the unconscious creature the intensity of my emotions was unnerving.

Taking deep breathes, the time I wasted unknown, I managed to calm myself a little. Wadding over to the animal I placed two hands on its wiry, brown fur and shook it awake. Drearily, it stood. Next, I ate one of my soaking provisions as I planned my course by map. I then jammed my bag with the wet tent and sleeping bag, making the soaking sack turgid and all the more uncomfortable. With a breath, knowing days would be easier than others, continued on.