The sun was just rising above the horizon as she slipped as silently as she could from the shadows of the barn toward the massive trees of the ancient forest. If anyone in their family spotted her they would surely try to stop her, but they would only just be stirring and she had been awake for hours.
Lynn, for reasons unknown to her, had always seemed to need less sleep, and somehow more food, then any of the rest of her family. Those were, of course, not the only differences between herself and her kin, but they were, in many ways, the most noticeable.
Pausing at the edge of the old barn, one slender, long hand braced against the wood, she glanced back at the little house slowly being devoured by climbing plants. Within its walls she supposedly shared one small room with her three sisters, though, in truth, she more often then not slept atop the coal in the cellar with only the mice as her room mates.
The mice were certainly quieter.
As the youngest child out of nine her eccentricities were often overlooked and those that weren't weren't worth arguing with her over. According to her mother, at any rate.
Lynne shrugged to herself and turned back to face the trees. If she didn't hurry she'd either be late or caught. Either way both were just as bad... Well, maybe not. Her parents weren't inclined to bite off body parts, after all.
Ducking low she made the hundred yard dash from the shadows of the barn to the even deeper shadows of the trees. She just made it to the more secure cover when she had to freeze with all the skill of the rabbit that fears the hunter as the front door of the house opened.
The oldest of her brothers stepped into the new day's light, stretching and yawning. Oblivious to the extra shadow in the trees that was his little sister, he rubbed his eyes and wondered on into the barn.
Lynn watched him round the corner before she slipped into the next shadow, then the next, as silent and smooth in her movements as a passing breeze. She moved closer and closer to the trees, calm and patient in her progress, only to have to freeze again as the house door opened a second time and, this time, her oldest sister stepped into the dawn.
The older girl squinted and blinked like a night creature brought suddenly to light. She mumbled and growled to herself and swiveled her head back and forth like a snake trying to get a fix on a mouse it had lost before she finally followed Jacky into the barn.
Lynn sneered after the other girl and bared her teeth in a silent, unseen threat, before she turned and made the last dash into the trees.
Safe within their green depths she at last took a deep breath of the loamy air and allowed herself to relax.
If her family ever found out where she was going they would have, at the best, had her sent away. At the worst they would have had her burned as a witch. Hell, going into the trees was apparently enough evidence to convict her of witchcraft if previous, recent incidences were anything to go by.
Lynn shuddered as she picked her way toward the familiar forest path.
Fortunately all of the girls that had been recently targeted had been no one she knew or she may have been tempted beyond all good judgment to do something stupid to help them.
The new magistrate had changed everything. Before he had arrived what few witch trials there had been had been fairly and impartially administered by Father Jonas. Now it was all different. Not long after the trials had begun those girls that had not been accused of practicing the craft had begun to change. They had become mean, cold, calculating, watchful. Like Lynn's best friend. Like two of her sisters.
Lynn knew that it was only a matter of time before they came after her, too.
She jumped lightly over an old, dry creek bed that was deeper then the little bit of water it saw each year should call for and landed, as light as a cat, on the hard packed dirt path on the other side.
She paused here again and looked back just once more. She lifted her face into the still air and sucked an open mouthful across her soft pallet. She tasted rabbit, at least a day old, a deer, it's fragrant taste just a little fresher, and her own scent, new over old over older still. Other then that nothing presented itself and, at last, she turned onto the narrow path that wound it's way into the deep, deep wood.
The path began as little more then a well worn deer track, but quickly divided. One fork, she knew from experience, twisted back toward the dry creek bed and stayed an innocent, well used deer trail. The other, wider and lined with white gravel, continued its way into the woods. It was less traveled and patches of grass grew up from between the stones.
It was this path that she took. The gravel crunched softly beneath her feet, but not so much that the birds who were pecking and scratching out their breakfast beside the path even took notice of her. Just as her family had become accustomed to her long disappearances, especially as she drew closer to marriageable age, so had the birds learned to ignore her comings and goings from their world.
She walked further this time before the path began to change once again. At first it only widened slowly then it changed quickly from one length to the next the deeper she followed it into the trees. Before long, the gravel was replaced by yellow, sand strewn cobbles so smoothly laid that they would have cost even the capital city of the kingdom a year's revenue to have them duplicated.
By this point the path had become something wide enough to support at least one lane of carriage traffic, she paused and walked to the edge of the path just long enough to pluck three deep red blooms from where they grew, in all the glory typical to wildflowers, in a bright shaft of sun that cut through the interlaced tree branches.
One of these four petaled, blood red flowers she tucked behind one ear. The remaining two she simply carried with her as she continued on her way.
Once more the path turned road changed again, slowly widening until it became something wide enough for four lanes of traffic, then six, then it's edges became lost amongst the shadows of the ancient forest. Still she walked, unbothered by the changes to the once humble forest path until, at last, just as suddenly as the smooth cobbles had begun, they vanished completely into a thick, green moss that seemed as flat and planned as the road itself.
Without so much as brushing that impossibly green moss with her toes, Lynn veered sharply to her right and began to follow the straight edge that marked where the road ended. At the side of the road, where a low wall met with the ancient trees and its humble height seemed to hold them at bay, she turned left onto yet another path. This one matched the first path she had begun to walk in all but location. Its barren dirt looked like a jagged scar through the painfully green moss, moss she was incredibly careful no to so much as brush with even the smallest part of her foot as she continued on.
Lynn began to hum softly to herself as she walked, twirling one of the flower's delicate stems between thumb and forefinger. Around her patches of the moss surged toward her as if something were pushing its way beneath the lake of green. She ignored it and continued to hum to herself, unconcerned, for while man eating moss was the bane of the king's Landmen’s existence, it posed little threat to her. This particular patch had learned to fear her long ago and while it would threaten and roil it wouldn't go but so close to the path. That was not to say that it wouldn't snatch her up given even the slightest chance, but as long as she wasn't stupid she'd be fine.
The path ended abruptly at a set of narrow, stone steps that seemed to lead to the lowest branch of the nearest tree that, in its age, had begun to grow over the top most step. Still twirling the flower absently she took the steps two at a time. The steps led exactly where they seemed to lead, to the lowest branch of an ancient tree where it had come to rest, and grow, over what had once been a stone platform. It may or may not have ever been a part of something larger. Lynn didn't know.
At what had once been the platform's center was a perfectly round, clear, calm pool. Opposite the branch upon which she now stood was yet another ancient branch that belonged to yet another ancient tree. With exceptional grace, Lynn leaped the distance between branches and looked down upon the steps that led from her new perch. Aside from the difference in location the steps could have been the same ones she had just climbed. At their base, half hidden by fallen leaves, were three gray stepping stones that led to the mouth of a small cave. Statues or, more accurately, the peaces of statues and other assorted forms of stone work in varying states of decay littered the leaf strewn ground around the dark opening.
Lynn hopped the remaining distance from the bottom step to the last stepping stone and froze as a low growl issued from the mouth of the cave, echoing strangely through the dark.
Lynn, for reasons unknown to her, had always seemed to need less sleep, and somehow more food, then any of the rest of her family. Those were, of course, not the only differences between herself and her kin, but they were, in many ways, the most noticeable.
Pausing at the edge of the old barn, one slender, long hand braced against the wood, she glanced back at the little house slowly being devoured by climbing plants. Within its walls she supposedly shared one small room with her three sisters, though, in truth, she more often then not slept atop the coal in the cellar with only the mice as her room mates.
The mice were certainly quieter.
As the youngest child out of nine her eccentricities were often overlooked and those that weren't weren't worth arguing with her over. According to her mother, at any rate.
Lynne shrugged to herself and turned back to face the trees. If she didn't hurry she'd either be late or caught. Either way both were just as bad... Well, maybe not. Her parents weren't inclined to bite off body parts, after all.
Ducking low she made the hundred yard dash from the shadows of the barn to the even deeper shadows of the trees. She just made it to the more secure cover when she had to freeze with all the skill of the rabbit that fears the hunter as the front door of the house opened.
The oldest of her brothers stepped into the new day's light, stretching and yawning. Oblivious to the extra shadow in the trees that was his little sister, he rubbed his eyes and wondered on into the barn.
Lynn watched him round the corner before she slipped into the next shadow, then the next, as silent and smooth in her movements as a passing breeze. She moved closer and closer to the trees, calm and patient in her progress, only to have to freeze again as the house door opened a second time and, this time, her oldest sister stepped into the dawn.
The older girl squinted and blinked like a night creature brought suddenly to light. She mumbled and growled to herself and swiveled her head back and forth like a snake trying to get a fix on a mouse it had lost before she finally followed Jacky into the barn.
Lynn sneered after the other girl and bared her teeth in a silent, unseen threat, before she turned and made the last dash into the trees.
Safe within their green depths she at last took a deep breath of the loamy air and allowed herself to relax.
If her family ever found out where she was going they would have, at the best, had her sent away. At the worst they would have had her burned as a witch. Hell, going into the trees was apparently enough evidence to convict her of witchcraft if previous, recent incidences were anything to go by.
Lynn shuddered as she picked her way toward the familiar forest path.
Fortunately all of the girls that had been recently targeted had been no one she knew or she may have been tempted beyond all good judgment to do something stupid to help them.
The new magistrate had changed everything. Before he had arrived what few witch trials there had been had been fairly and impartially administered by Father Jonas. Now it was all different. Not long after the trials had begun those girls that had not been accused of practicing the craft had begun to change. They had become mean, cold, calculating, watchful. Like Lynn's best friend. Like two of her sisters.
Lynn knew that it was only a matter of time before they came after her, too.
She jumped lightly over an old, dry creek bed that was deeper then the little bit of water it saw each year should call for and landed, as light as a cat, on the hard packed dirt path on the other side.
She paused here again and looked back just once more. She lifted her face into the still air and sucked an open mouthful across her soft pallet. She tasted rabbit, at least a day old, a deer, it's fragrant taste just a little fresher, and her own scent, new over old over older still. Other then that nothing presented itself and, at last, she turned onto the narrow path that wound it's way into the deep, deep wood.
The path began as little more then a well worn deer track, but quickly divided. One fork, she knew from experience, twisted back toward the dry creek bed and stayed an innocent, well used deer trail. The other, wider and lined with white gravel, continued its way into the woods. It was less traveled and patches of grass grew up from between the stones.
It was this path that she took. The gravel crunched softly beneath her feet, but not so much that the birds who were pecking and scratching out their breakfast beside the path even took notice of her. Just as her family had become accustomed to her long disappearances, especially as she drew closer to marriageable age, so had the birds learned to ignore her comings and goings from their world.
She walked further this time before the path began to change once again. At first it only widened slowly then it changed quickly from one length to the next the deeper she followed it into the trees. Before long, the gravel was replaced by yellow, sand strewn cobbles so smoothly laid that they would have cost even the capital city of the kingdom a year's revenue to have them duplicated.
By this point the path had become something wide enough to support at least one lane of carriage traffic, she paused and walked to the edge of the path just long enough to pluck three deep red blooms from where they grew, in all the glory typical to wildflowers, in a bright shaft of sun that cut through the interlaced tree branches.
One of these four petaled, blood red flowers she tucked behind one ear. The remaining two she simply carried with her as she continued on her way.
Once more the path turned road changed again, slowly widening until it became something wide enough for four lanes of traffic, then six, then it's edges became lost amongst the shadows of the ancient forest. Still she walked, unbothered by the changes to the once humble forest path until, at last, just as suddenly as the smooth cobbles had begun, they vanished completely into a thick, green moss that seemed as flat and planned as the road itself.
Without so much as brushing that impossibly green moss with her toes, Lynn veered sharply to her right and began to follow the straight edge that marked where the road ended. At the side of the road, where a low wall met with the ancient trees and its humble height seemed to hold them at bay, she turned left onto yet another path. This one matched the first path she had begun to walk in all but location. Its barren dirt looked like a jagged scar through the painfully green moss, moss she was incredibly careful no to so much as brush with even the smallest part of her foot as she continued on.
Lynn began to hum softly to herself as she walked, twirling one of the flower's delicate stems between thumb and forefinger. Around her patches of the moss surged toward her as if something were pushing its way beneath the lake of green. She ignored it and continued to hum to herself, unconcerned, for while man eating moss was the bane of the king's Landmen’s existence, it posed little threat to her. This particular patch had learned to fear her long ago and while it would threaten and roil it wouldn't go but so close to the path. That was not to say that it wouldn't snatch her up given even the slightest chance, but as long as she wasn't stupid she'd be fine.
The path ended abruptly at a set of narrow, stone steps that seemed to lead to the lowest branch of the nearest tree that, in its age, had begun to grow over the top most step. Still twirling the flower absently she took the steps two at a time. The steps led exactly where they seemed to lead, to the lowest branch of an ancient tree where it had come to rest, and grow, over what had once been a stone platform. It may or may not have ever been a part of something larger. Lynn didn't know.
At what had once been the platform's center was a perfectly round, clear, calm pool. Opposite the branch upon which she now stood was yet another ancient branch that belonged to yet another ancient tree. With exceptional grace, Lynn leaped the distance between branches and looked down upon the steps that led from her new perch. Aside from the difference in location the steps could have been the same ones she had just climbed. At their base, half hidden by fallen leaves, were three gray stepping stones that led to the mouth of a small cave. Statues or, more accurately, the peaces of statues and other assorted forms of stone work in varying states of decay littered the leaf strewn ground around the dark opening.
Lynn hopped the remaining distance from the bottom step to the last stepping stone and froze as a low growl issued from the mouth of the cave, echoing strangely through the dark.
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