The Meeting Place

The path ahead was no longer recognisable, years of neglect and torrential rains had reduced it to a strangled web of roots and vines.  She stopped.  Was this the way?

With a furtive backward glance, she lifted her skirts and stepped into the heavy darkness of the ancient forest, hoping the map was true.  Heart pounding, she scrambled up towards the heavens. She was grateful that the pouring rain and mist she had used as a veil for her escape was now little more than a sprinkle of heavy drops falling from the overhead canopy.  

She pulled herself upwards her whole body keened to hear the bells toll. The forest acting as a muffle to all outside sounds, she didn’t want to miss the moment when they would know. Her absence would be duly noted, of course, and the guards would take little time to begin the search. 

She heard Alistair’s voice, silky and soft, echo in her head. The hounds would be set upon her. He had been very particular about her fate should she choose to run.

Thinking of that last time he had visited her, she missed her footing. Slipping on the mossy roots of a veteran oak, landing hard upon her right hip, shoulder and face,  she cried out, flushing a cuckoo from it’s branch close by. As she wiped the mud away from her eyes, she prayed that no-one else heard her.

The darkness of the forest loomed downward, pressing her into the tangled undergrowth.  It seemed as if the natural world knew of her betrayal and was judging her, holding her captive.  It seemed to her that Alistair’s power could be felt even here. She tried standing and fell again, slipping down the treacherous pathway, arms flailing as she tried desperately to grasp hold of something to anchor her. A rush of images of Alistair, the hounds, the guards. She must not think of what would happen if he found her. Once more she tried to stand, her back braced against the thick trunk of an elm tree, she pulled herself up with the thick vines that hung low, testing her hip and leg she gingerly placed weight upon her left foot.  She winced.

Below in the valley, she heard the dogs, their savagery echoing through the air.

Desperate, she hoped she still had time. Trying to remember her mother’s directions, she searched ahead for the cave mouth - would she recognise it or would she miss it? She gave a start, the dogs, they were closer than she thought possible. With o time to be sure of her bearings, she plunged forward - her injury forgotten. The path seemingly impermeable gave way and she found herself on the other side.

The cave was dry and deep, but still not a refuge from her pursuers. She must find the way. She would only be safe once she had passed into the temple but first she needed to be sure they were here. Pursing her lips, she whistled the notes her mother had made her learn all those years ago.

Betwixt the dogs’ crazed barking and the guards’ shouting, she heard it. The nightingale trilled and another joined in. Her heart answered. She would make it.