A Ring of Spring Flowers

The lawn was covered in bodies. They were like mounds of red flowers. Little complications set here and there on the grass. Fen ran between them, following Mother. Each was different. This one had arrows in its chest. This one had a piece torn out of its neck. There was Gwynn, good kind Gwynn who had made her bacon and kept her secrets. There was Seskie, tall and lean, who was always stern about the trees. Her white cloak was soaked in thick, dark red clots. Someone had taken her swords away.

"Where is Esten?" called mother. "Have either of you seen Esten? Llan, have you seen him?"

Llan shook his head. "I went to the Rook mother, the black building where he likes to read, but I didn't see him. Maybe the tower?"

"Stay together. Stay together. Try not to let them see."

Together, they ran into the meadow between the trees, not bothering to keep to Seskie's paths. Mother's feet were quiet in the whispering grasses. It became Autumn, and the apples began falling. The flowers withered, and the grasses lay flat.

"Esten!" called Mother, her voice high and careful. Llan had his sword out. She wished she still had her dagger.

"Don't kill me," she said to him, "I changed my mind," but he didn't hear her.

The ship was here, black as the pit. She ran her fingers along the side of it, brushing away loose flakes of gold that tumbled like the autumn leaves.

Mother knocked on the side of it. "Esten," she called softly, but there was no reply.

"Esten, it's us," said Llan. "Come out, please."

There was nothing. The ship was silent and empty.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Why does he do these things, Mother?" said Llan. "You should have been firmer with him. It's not acceptable for him to hide like this."

"Maybe he's gone to the tower," said Fen.

"He hates the tower. He's frightened of everything. He's probably cowering somewhere right now, too afraid to come to us." Llan raised his voice a little. "We need to go, Esten. You need to come out right now."

He began drumming on the side of the ship with his fists.

But Mother was not looking in his direction. She was staring off at a point between the trees.

"Fen," she whispered. "You need to run now. Get away, find somewhere to hide."

Llan was no longer banging. He was standing next to Mother, sword drawn and low. Mother slid her white dagger out of the rabbit-skin sheath. Fen followed their gaze and gasped.

Some way off, in the shade of a tree, there was a man. So big, and so scarred and still, that she had thought him a broken trunk.

"Run," said Mother again. "Don't make a sound. Run quietly through the long grass like a little rabbit, then you sink down and cover yourself with your cloak and you pretend you're nothing but a stone. Do you understand? You're a little tiny stone. No one would even notice you."

"Mother, I'm sorry."

Mother leaned down and brushed a tiny kiss on her forehead, then she pushed her away, and it was as though the little push started a motor inside her because she was scampering, fast feet in the long grass, and the dew was splashing up on her knees and across her face.

She burst out of the trees onto the lawn. A man was right in front of her. Big. Floppy blonde hair. She swerved around him, fast feet.

"Wait," he yelled, but she didn't stop. She dodged away from him, back into the trees. An arrow sailed over her shoulder and whacked into a tree.

"Don't shoot her!" she heard him cry.

Fast feet. Fast feet. The crunching, breathy sounds of pursuit faded. She waded into the long grass, pulled her cloak over her head, and knelt. Prickly stalks pressed up into her face and nose. I am a stone. I am a little tiny mouse. There is no Fentallion here.

She heard the sounds of boots. Shadows passed over her, one, two, three, and they were gone. Still, she didn't move. Her breath was warm and close under the cloak.

----------------------------------------

Slow footsteps, coming closer. A shadow. A hand gripping her cloak. Jerking it away. The light blinds her. He has a small, bristly moustache. He stares at her like he wants to eat her.

"Well, looky here missy, a little girl, all alone in the forest. If it ain't my lucky day."

He wraps her tight in her own cloak and slings her over his shoulder. Before he covers her head, she sees the place where she had crouched. A ring of spring flowers blooms there.