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Anastaseah heard them behind her, but she did not look back to see exactly where they were, but the sound of horses, dogs, shots from men rang out a the sound of a steady boom in the night. Increasing her heartrate and propelling her legs forwards.

She ran through the forest. Her pace relentless…punishing. She could barely breath. The panting of her labored breath swirled in frantic circles before her lips. Her chest convulsed. Her inner thighs burned. Her body rebelled against her. Cried out for her to stop…or at the very least slow down, but she could not, would not.? She had only one thought, only one goal penetrated her focus.

Have to get away.

The delicate pounding of the thick fat rain fell to pour down upon her shapely form soaking her in bone chilling moisture. Her whole body shivered. Her skimpy ensemble did nothing to keep away the chill, offering no protection against the whipping storm biting at her face, legs, feet. The simple now dirty white chemist she wore under the rough old cloak only clung to her, plaster against her flesh hindering her forward movement.

Thunder roared. Lightning flashed overhead across the open field striking a tree. The large majestic giant that had quite possibly stood proud for hundreds of years fell towards the ground. Falling limps and branches just barely missing her. She didn’t notice.

She simply ran, because she could do no other. She was damn near close to collapsing from exhaustion. The nasty stitch in her side begging her to stop, so much so, that her body began to slow down on its own accord.?

The darkness of the night seemed to grow more and more…ominous as she ran deeper into the tree lined forest surrounding the place she thought would be her home. She remember when she came here. It held such promise…such wonder now…now it was cold…lonely…void…certain death.

Anastaseah could hear the sound of sobs in the background mixing with the call of her name, Gentle calling. Begging her to stop…to come back…but she would not stop.? She knew it was a trick. He was good at that. The tricks the lies, the deception. She wanted to believe that maybe…that he could…maybe she should stop…talk…tired legs began to slow.

Maybe she was wrong…by the goddess she hoped she was wrong.

Searing heat flooded her shoulder as the pain of the bullet that just grazed her skin burned through the cloak and the flesh beneath. Stupid…Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Picking up her pace again, Ana ran cut right.

Have to get away.

Cover she needed cover, she thought as she ran into the thick canopy of vegetation. The brush clawed at her body. Low lying branches snatch at her clothing, trying to pull her down.? She could not let them win.? The pain of this life was too great and the confusion of what she felt dizzying and nearly stifling.

How did this happened?? How did she come to find herself here…this confused…this lost…

Anastaseah felt the wetness upon her cheeks and knew that not all of the liquid running down her face was from the storm raging about her. He knew now that the pitiful wailing she heard all around was not just the wind. She didn’t want to give credence to it either. And If it wasn’t for the terrible pain in her chest and the fact that he eyes were now so blurred and filled with liquid to the point where she barely see, she wouldn’t have never acknowledge to herself that she was actually crying…

Oh damn it all to bloody everlasting hell. She never cried and now was not the time.? She was strong. She was proud. She was of noble heritage. She would survive this, get through this. She had to focus and allow one thought to prevail…

Have to get away.

She just had to keep from being caught until she could find herself back within the solace of her own lands. In the bosom of her own people. Once there, there would be no way her people would allow this one to do what was planned for her. Not after how hard they fought to make sure she stayed safe.?

Have to get away.

Anastaseah had no idea where she was going just that she knew she had to keep moving. Despite the bruises and welts that decorated her back and upper arms wanting her to find comfort, she had to keep moving. Despite the numbness of her dainty bare feet making her stumble she would not stop. Despite her the cuts and scratches upon her legs, the abrasions on her inner thighs begging her to stop. Despite her pounding heart which felt like it was about to explode and racing out of control pulse and her rapidly leaving stamina one thought spurned her one

Have to get away...far, far away.?

Ana fell, face down, up to her eyes into the grass and dirty and mud of the cold wet marsh below. Grime poured into her mouth, dirt covered her body threatening to suffocate every pore of her being, but still she continued. A tree limb reached out to grab her cloak, rearing her back, lifting her off the ground, choking her. She pulled at it, fighting its hold, tearing her cloak free from her body.

Have to get away...far, far away.?

Louder still the sounds of horse hooves, dogs and men.

Her mind screaming ‘Just a little further, please, please, please, just a little further. Her legs caught up in the rags of her clinging wet dress gave her to give. She fell to the ground once more, this time plummeting head first down a rock covered slope. Thank God she thought, as she tumbled over the side of the slope. Hopefully she would break her neck and then she would be free from the insanity her life had become.

~~~

Avrid Deverill drew his horse up next to the precipice and looked over. Rainwater dripped from his hat brim, soaking the back of his neck yet again. His men were tired, wet, and hungry, as was he. Even the hounds, usually enthused about the hunt no matter the weather, seemed somehow worn. Small rocks and clods of mud dropped towards the sea below, disappearing in the thin cold mist.?

There, on the wave washed, jagged rocks just within view was what looked to be the woman’s corpse. From this height, even though thoroughly soiled, Avrid could make out the once glaring white chemise. The body was unmoving. He could see no reason to risk sending his men down that treacherous incline simply to confirm that she was in fact dead. No mortal being, even a witch if that was even what she had been, could survive that fall.

“Tell his Highness,” Deverill stated slowly to one of his huntsmen, “that the witch has killed herself trying to escape.”

The men cheered, rejoicing that their task was, if not successful, at least over. Clapping each other on the shoulders, and petting the massive heads of their hounds, they prepared to head back to the village. They were bound back to warm fires, hot food, ale, and the comforts of their women.

Deverill, for his part, looked longingly at the form below. Hidden by the cold rain a few warm tears ran along his cheeks, joining the cloying water soaking his rough beard. “Ah, Ana,” he sighed softly to himself, “if only I could have had more time to plan!”

Knowing that he would never truly be warm again, at least not in this life, Deverill turned his horse from the edge and followed his rapidly disappearing men.??

~~~

Pug strolled along the thin width of coarse sand that separated sea and stone. He, like his fellow mudlarks, searched for flotsam. Anything of value that the sea had vomited forth during the night’s storm could bring a copper or two, perhaps a warm meal or a bed. They were a ragged bunch, bone thin, their clothes little more than the bits washed up by the sea. He was stunned by the glorious swath of soiled white silk that suddenly spread before him, as soft as a sea fog. He reached one bony hand out to grasp it, and met warm flesh.

“What’cha find, Pug,” one of his mates called.

“Summit,” he called back, “looks like a girl, eh? Come and gives us a hand!”

A gaggle of grimy, scrawny, scabbed children surrounded the unconscious woman and drew her from the sand. “Where you wanna puts her, Pug?” one asked.

“Owbouts down?” another groused, and they all laughed. For all of their filth and poverty they were actually a simple, joyful bunch, finding happiness in their simplicity.

“Snoggin nock,” said Pug, “till we cans suss the what of her. She’s be safest there.” Snogging notch, where the older children like Pug and his Lucie went to do very un-childlike things.?

“Fancy havin’ a go, Pug?” another of the older mudlarks asked. Several chuckled.

“Naw,” he responded between heavy breaths, for they were exerting their meager resources moving the woman, “she’s a sumthin-sumthin, not fer snoggin’. Maybe we can sells her, if we finds a buyer.” Truth be told snogging her was his first thought, when he had found her, but there was something he couldn’t quite understand stopping him. Perhaps, tonight when he rested in his own nest, he would ponder her and pleasure himself instead.

They dragged her limp form into a narrow cave mouth that rose and widened into a large open cavern. Bringing a battered porcelain ewer of? fresh water, Pug forced a little into her parched mouth. The mudlarks then left the ewer there beside her, and a few crusts of slightly moldy bread, before covering her with a filthy scrap of a blanket and heading back out to lark. Mudlarks had to eat, after all.