TFL ch 25

The night wind rakes my body, chilling me and causing my bones to ache intensely. The smoldering cooking fire does little to heat the air around me. I hear raucous laughter rising from the scattered tents across the field. Images of the rogues who had whistled and made raw jokes assault my thoughts. Their evening meal was primarily composed of ale and their drunken cachinnation could scare the hide off a lioness. My insides clench; my throat constricts. I will not allow myself to fall to their level, no matter where I came from and what Wesson says. I will find a means of escape from this perverted hell or die!

I wrestle with the ropes that tie my hands behind my back. Right, left, in, out-- nothing happens. I stretch until my shoulders burn from the motion and my wrists are chafed. "Blast." I mutter. I will not be going anywhere if I cannot release myself from these bindings. If only I had a knife... Or Castra... I mutter angrily, cursing Wesson and everyone else here at the camp. One of the men at supper had mentioned that Wesson was brandishing a fancy new sword, and a curved one at that. "The sheathe even was engraved!" they said. One could not possibly know where he found that sword, could he now?

My Castra, the scimitar of the defenders of Aspenvale in the hands of this- this thug! Never! I continue to fidget with the bands. The tie loosens ever so slightly as the moments pass. Crickets chirp unsympathetically, their rhythm never breaking at my moans and grunts.

I glance about again for anything I could use to wear away the rope. The moon, already nearing its zenith, illuminates the grounds. About ten feet away, the supply wagon where the food is kept rests. My stomach growls obnoxiously as I realize two complete days have passed since I have eaten. I stare at the wagon enviously. Is- Is that- a glint, a bit of light reflecting off the ledge? Right there within fifteen feet of me, lies the knife Gulliver left there as he drunkenly staggered toward his tent. Fifteen feet and no way to get over there! The Grecian myth of Tantalus enters my thoughts. To be so close to my relief and yet be so far! I lie down on the rocky ground, my body protesting. Rocks poke into my sore body, causing rivulets of pain to seep from every point of contact.

Painfully, I roll onto my side. The stones jab harder into my stiff shoulder. The wagon is to my right; If I can only roll over there and somehow grab the knife with my mouth, I could escape. A chorus of laughter erupts from the camp, drunken shouts sprinkled throughout. The noise is so revolting; the pain will be worth it to be out of here. I roll flat on the ground. Lightning streaks across my vision as my face is crushed into the ground. Oh, the throbbing headache! I continue to roll despite the long list of bruises and cuts I am collecting.

With a thud, I roll into the wheels of the wagon. I roll back toward my left slightly and sit myself up. The back of the wagon still stands over a foot above my head. Grunting, I sweep my feet out to the the side and rock myself back and forth until I gain enough momentum to get onto my knees. My chin now rests on the edge of the wagon, the knife six inches away. The moonlight reflects laughingly off its blade, each glint like a malicious pixie giggling at my position. Six inches from relief, from sweet freedom!

I sway backwards, making it onto my feet without tumbling over. My ankles cry out in protestation. Even through my leathern breeches, the ropes have bruised my bones and every movement only aggravates the bruises more. Bending over, I painstakingly move it closer to me with my chin. A tremor spreads through me as I think of how terribly close the knife is to my neck. A little closer and freedom will be mine in a completely different fashion.

Moving the knife just a couple of inches, I grab the handle with my teeth. I toss it to the ground next to me and slowly seat myself down next to it. Once I grasp it with my hands, I set to work on releasing myself. Unfortunately, the knife isn't nearly as sharp as I would like it and the ropes continue to chafe my wrists as I saw at the ropes. Images of Gwen and Eric keep me going though. It has been two days since I left the castle grounds. By this point someone has to have noticed my absence. I just hope that I have not worried them too much. What am I thinking? I'm sure they have already sent out search parties.

The rope finally gives way, causing the knife to slip and nick my skin. I breathe a sigh of relief. One step closer to ending this nightmare. The restraints around my ankles come off much quicker. I stand to my feet. Now, I need to get Castra.

Wesson probably will have it next to him. I'm positive that he doesn't trust the thugs here in his own camp. I had watched him walk to his tent. I quietly creep to his camp, the crickets' continuing symphony providing an ominous background as I go. I pause outside Wesson's tent. Eric's voice resounds in my thoughts. "Don't be rash. Your life is more important than any sword. Please don't make any foolish decisions." I shove the thoughts aside. There was no way I was going to leave my beautiful Castra in the hands of that vile, perverted, disgusting creep!

I pull the flap back and step in. Wesson sleeps peacefully, his rugged face barely illuminated by a sliver of moonlight. I silently kneel next to him and search for Castra. I feel its metallic coolness and smile. Oh so, so close to being out of this hell. Without a sound, I lift Castra and steal away out the tent. Glancing back, I admire Wesson's handsome face. I find myself slightly irked that such a strong man can be so horrifically evil. Turning away I run out into the night, the moon gently illuminating my way.

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Hello lovelies! I'm so sorry for the 21 days in between updates. Right now I'm on my senior trip in 93 degree weather. Before we left, I had to do makeup work. So the chapter was delayed. I am hoping to writ the next update through this week. So fear not!

Question of the chapter: which of these things do you like most about the summer?

A. NO SCHOOL! DUH!
B. Going to the pool
C. The natural beauty
D. A. C. I hate the outdoors

For me, I love the beauty of the outdoors!! The crickets, lightning bugs, birds-- everything!!!

Please don't forget to

* VOTE
*COMMENT
*ANSWER THE QUESTION
* SHARE THIS STORY WITH FRIENDS

And have a MAGICAL DAY!!!