He Slipped

Alec, Elayne, Helen, and Anne rumble along in the back of a wagon, traveling down the worn path of a rural village at the edge of the kingdom. The houses are wooden, their mossy thatched roofs sagging like the huts in Osric’s village. Children slump against fences, with only rags draped over their sickly, thin frames. Their dead eyes follow the wagon as it rolls past.

“It’s worse than I thought. I can’t look.” Anne’s eyes shift to the wagon boards.

“Are we sure he came down this way?” Alec asks.

“Yes. I still have his scent,” Elayne snarks.

She keeps sniffing, staring out at the dirt path as it begins to waver and fade.

The farmer tugs at the reins, bringing the horse to a halt.

“I’m not going any farther than this. That there is the Beastkin Forest. I’d recommend you turn back too — unless you’ve got a death wish,” the farmer says over his shoulder.

The breeze picks up, Osric’s scent gets even sharper. She vaults over the side of the wagon and bolts, racing up a steep, grassy hill.

“Elayne!” her mother’s shouting grows distant from behind the hill.

The Beastkin Forest comes into view. Trees — as far as she can see. Taller than any she’s seen before — an intimidating forest. She presses on.

>>>

She hacks her way through thick bushes and vines. All the while, Osric’s scent grows more poignant. She can practically see him with her nose. All that training with Alec to hone her senses has paid off.

Slicing through another bush — there he is, lying under a tree.

“Osric?” She calls out, tiptoeing forward.

His head pressed against the dirt, his eyes closed. But an arm rises, and just like that, she’s flying through the air, slamming into a tree.

Her concern flips to anger. “Osric!” she screams, pushing off the tree. She's flying at him, a punch aimed right at his chin.

Her fist falls the moment she sees Osric’s face. Black, vein-like markings spread from his left eye, pulsing as they crawl across his face. He flips a page of his book.

She’s flung backward again, crashing hard into another tree trunk.

She launches at him again, fist cocked.

“Stop bothering me, little girl.” The voice is dry, emotionless. His fingers are limp as he raises a hand to her.

Something pulls her to the ground; with a thud, she sinks into the dirt.

Scrambling to her feet, she lets out a roar and rushes him again — but she’s thrown backward.

She keeps trying. Every time she gets close, she’s slammed into another tree, each impact jolting pain from head to toe. It’s not the pain that's eating at her — it’s the feeling in her heart. “Why would he do this?” she mutters, her back scraping against the rough bark as she slides down.

She charges him again. But this time — he’s crying. A single tear slips from his right eye. His left arm trembles, muscles quivering as it slowly lowers… then shoots back up, as if battling with itself.

Her punch collides with nothing, stopping just inches from his face. She twists her feet, driving all her weight into the blow, but it won’t budge.

“The book. Get the book out of my hand.” The voice is crackling, but it’s Osric’s.

Elayne leaps back, finally realizing that brute force won’t work. Sweat pours down her face, dripping into the dirt.

“Stop this struggle… What a pain you are.” The dry voice returns, cold and detached.

“No!” Osric’s voice cuts through. “Help! Elayne!”

The struggle ceases. Two fingers point directly at Elayne as he steps forward.

He advances, and she retreats — then again, stepping into the pool of sweat.

He slips.

His legs swing forward as the rest of his body lurches back. The book slides from his hand. The moment it leaves his grasp, Elayne lunges forward, snatching it.

Osric topples onto the dirt. Elayne rushes to him. Black veins still cover his face, but they’ve stopped spreading.

“Osric!” she shakes him, but he’s out cold. “Osric!”

The rustling of bushes from behind makes her freeze. From the shrubbery, two wolf beastkin burst out — one covered in tan fur, the other in light gray. Both wear green sleeveless tunics and pants with jagged hems, necklaces of teeth strung between shiny stones dangling around their necks.

They point their axes at her, barking words she doesn’t understand. Then, they charge.