Off the Ledge and Rotten Days

Hello! This prompt actually fits into the start of a book I am writing, tell me what you think! Enjoy! These are the first two chapters.

Chapter 1: Off the Ledge

The galloping of a horse disturbed the calm nature of the forest. Creatures and beasts scurried out of the way of the whinnying animal. On the back of the horse, a figure hunched and grasped tightly on the reins, whispering prayers into the dewy morning.

The thunk of an arrow whipped past the distraught pair, urging the young woman to dig her heel into the sides of the horse. Its muscles bulged, and its long legs stretched to reach further with each stride. Its black fur and mane, usually soft to the touch, glistened with sweat. How long could it go on? Five minutes ago, he would give anything for relief, but the adrenaline took over, fear overpowering the desire of want and need.

The boundary of the Ferren Kingdom was separated by a steep valley, that had a ledge overseeing the sudden drop. The trees and fern cleared into a more open space as the horse and the rider made their way to this ledge; Their hope and way of escape to the Maylen Kingdom.

The golden rays of the rising sun cleared the dew, acting as a guiding angel toward freedom.

Another arrow was nocked and released as the dark beast reached the edge of the valley. The rider urged the horse to take a sharp left at the last gallops. An arrow whizzed by, planted into the soft ground.

More arrows were nocked and released as the horse tried to gain control, eyes wide and wanting to retreat. The rider can hear its thoughts. The jump seemed impossible, but the rider was inexorable and tugged on the reins to lead the animal toward the ledge. Gathering confidence for its last moments, the horse coiled his hind legs and lunged ...

For a moment, they hung in the crisp air, the wind carrying them for a brief second before they crashed back down to reality and entered the dark forest of the Maylen Kingdom.

With relief, the rider straightened and began patting the horse, who leaned into her touch.  

Then the beast winded itself on his hind lends convulsing and dropped down with might. One gallop, two, three, and the rider was thrown into a deep bush that could have held any number of creatures. Her coat was torn off, still flapping behind her horse's caught hooves. And an arrow protruding out his hind.

One rider managed the jump and chased after the disturbed fern, missing the tousle of black curls sticking out the bush, and the hazel eyes that peered out the greenery in horror.

Chapter 2: Rotten Days

It felt like an eternity for the world to look right again, for the dreadful dizzying spell to cease, and for her ache to leave her be. The young woman touched her temple and winced under the pain that pricked her. Blood came away from her tan fingertips.

Mustering up strength and pushing down the wave of sorrow that threatened to bury her in the dirt she lay, the young lady sat up wearily. her black curls, once designed in an intricate style, flopped down her shoulders. What a ghastly sight she must look and what a ghastly way she felt.

The forest was slowly awakening, a beauty she sat in, but could not presently live in. She could either sit here and pity herself, or get up and find a place to settle for now. While her limbs were heavy, and the ground inviting, she made her mind up.

Checking her surroundings, she set off to the town she expected to reach come evening. Every once in a while, the rustling of leaves prompted gut-wrenching dread to pool in her stomach. For a moment, a creature would pop up and escape back into the comfort of the greenery.

She almost fled once, before muttering curses at a fox that stopped to stare at her before trotting away. By the time she made it to her destination, she'd be wrinkled by the amount of brow furrowing and frowning that went on.

When she did come upon the town, three long days had passed. Battered, tired, and very hungry, it was a wonder she still stood. She had gotten away from the pain of hunger when she could. If fortune came to her, she found patches of salmon barries and cloud barries. She preferred them, but on most nights, she clogged her nose and gulped the swollen black and brown bodies of crickets and grasshoppers after beheading them.

After getting over the shivers and disgust, she realized that they didn't taste foul at all. In fact, it tasted like something she had once eaten. The evening she had that thought, the possibility of insanity frightened her and the insect was flung off for some other creature's meal. Then she propped herself in a bush to sleep.

She did not dare try her luck in fishing or hunting, lest she'd make a fire and have the smoke give her away.

The town seemed lifeless and eerie, contrary to the festivities it held last she'd visited with her parents. She almost turned expectantly towards their invisible presence, seeking to inquire what they thought had happened to the lovely little place.

She had forgotten that they were gone. She clenched her hands, dirty fingernails digging into her flesh. The adrenaline had finally worn off and the weight of her situation bared on her shoulder.

Her head fell back, body limp, to peer into the damp, grey heavens. 'Dear Lord, what do I do now', she prayed.

A creak resounded and her head snapped to the right. Her heart thrummed in her chest expectantly. Young, brown eyes peered at her from a window sill. The first face she saw in the town. A shakey stubby hand rose to point at her and she could see a plump red-headed woman grab the boy by the shoulder, take a weary glance at her, and shut the window with rattling force.

Again, she thought to herself that she must look a sight.

Going off to the side near the spills of rubbish in a dingy alleyway, she slumped against a stone wall. Many of the walls were built with stone, while the homes and shops were built with wood.

When she last came, she thought that the roads only shone with cleanliness and beauty. Now, she was seeing a much more real reality. Off to her left side, a half-bitten apple shone among the waste. With weak arms, she stretched to the apple and polished it off with her grubby garments. The apple shone ruby as she bit into it.

Then she slept off the past days, willing any nightmares off. Willing the screams, the red splatter, and the gruff faces from encroaching her any further.

She awoke to warmth embracing her and a cool cloth pressing to her head. She did not know the ground could be molded into something so comforting. Suspiciously comforting. Water sprayed her face and someone gasped near her. She took in the arm that she held in her own, it was turning pale white. She retracted and the blood in the arm rushed back.

"Golly Girl! You gave me a fright! What's your deal?"

The woman rubbed her arm protectively.

The young lady stared sternly at the woman in front of her, making no haste to explain herself or apologize.

The woman waited, tapping her foot impatiently, then sighed.

"There, there child. I didn't mean to yell, you must have been through an ordeal."

The women stepped forward, gently urging the young lady to lay down, to wrap a woolen blanket around her. Then she left.

Bringing her arms around herself under the blanket, she picked at the rough flesh on her lips, nervously. A few minutes, and the women came back with a cup of water, and a liquid sloshing around in a bowl. She should have at least considered the contents of the food and drink, but if the woman wanted her dead, she'd had enough time to do it.

Greedily, she drank the water until the cup was emptied. She sat up further leaning against the cool wall for leverage as she accepted and ate the food. Possibly, it was the most divine thing she had eaten in a while. The haze from her mind cleared and she studied the women more carefully, setting her bowl down.

"My children usually complain about that stew, at least you're a lass who knows what's good for her," the woman mused to herself.

Her red hair bounced lightly as she shook her head, thinking about her children's antics. She'll be watching them eat their dinner from now on.

Finally, her dusty green eyes flicked up to her young guest again, gold flecks shining in them, reflected by the candlewick alight on the table.

With hands propped on robust hips, the women inquired as to who the young lady was.

Suspicion crept into her mind, however. 'Does her allegiance lay with those wicked men,' she thought instead of answering the red-headed woman.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Straight to the cuff, eh?"

"Inviting a stranger to your home is scarcely pulling any punches either."

The woman quirked an amused brow.

"I didn't invite you per se. You would have caught your death out in that weather."

The young lady had heard the pattering sound of rain when the lady left to get her supper. Supper she had only dreamt about receiving.

Her shoulder slumped, and pink tinged her cheeks. Although, she was not ready to trust entirely, who knows what would have happened to her out in the rain, starving half to death. The woman was only trying to help, she'd want to know the identity of someone who she'd chosen to take into her home.

"Thank you for your kindness."

"Don't get me wrong, I expect you to leave before the children wake. I fed you and I won't be burdened with guilt to watch you go."

Silence passed before,

"Rehma, Mam." She thought more questions would come, but the women only humphed.

"I'm no mam, I am Cicil."

"Well, it's a pleasure, Cicil."

"Is it?" The quirked brow was raised again.

"As much as it was a pleasure for you to meet me."

"Not much then. Get your rest then, you'll have a hearty day tomorrow."

Cicil moved to tuck Rehma in, ignoring the young lady's amused smile.

She picked up the candle and the bowl, moving to the door. She paused, turned, and then,

"Don't do anything reckless child."

Not waiting to hear Rehma's reply, she was out the door, taking the light and warmth with her. But Rehmas heart had melted, and the soft woolen blanket was inviting.

Cicil's words rang out in her head repeatedly, morphing into the sweet and gentle sound of her mother's voice. The voice she could distinguish in a crowd of people. She was no stranger to chastisement and warnings against recklessness. A lady was to be refined in all manner.

'Do not be reckless child, get down from that tree.'

'Do not be reckless child, don't wander off now.'

Rehma replayed the memories as if she were flipping pages in a book. If someone peered into the room, no doubt high tales of grinning ghosts would spread. How powerful the darkness was, distorting and creating false imaginations. But it didn't matter, for a moment, Rehma was safe and less sullen.

Rehma drifted off with lively memories that diverted to echoes of an overturned carriage, shadowy figures, glinting blades, and the rush of a girl attacking.

Then, horrors of sharp pain, the blur of the world, the unladylike cry of a woman, desperate and motherly, and something about recklessness.

Thank you for reading, I hope it added to your day!