“Do not let your guard down, Gideon.”
“I know, Dragon.”
The fog is thick this morning.
An eerie premonition leaves me uneasy, so I leave our hideaway at daybreak. The vague feeling in my gut grows more real the closer I get to the forest’s edge. The undergrowth’s been trampled under careless feet. Leather boots have left deep marks in the damp soil.
Somebody’s come here. Several somebodies prowled the outskirts of the Black Forest. But they also departed hastily, without setting foot deeper into the woods. What in the world did they come here for? Tryin’ to appease Lord Designs by nearin’ the forest for appearance’s sake?
But I was naïve.
The stench of coagulated blood and rotting flesh hangs in the air. It’s the putrid smell of corpses. Following it, I push my way through the shrubs and brushwood.
“…!”
I was a naïve, optimistic old fool.
They came here to do something far more heinous.
“Damn it all!” Curses wrench from my throat in a hoarse, trembling voice.
They discarded them—children—like trash. And they’re all young girls. Their clothes and appearances greatly vary. But every single one of them’s the same exact age…as Princess Lala Lilia.
“DAMN IT ALL!”
They abducted every seven-year-old in the land because they couldn’t find Princess?!
Undernourished, haggard little girls are huddled together, hugging each other. I cut my way through the underbrush and run over to them.
“Oi! Stay with me!”
A murder of crows takes flight in a flurry of wings. Their black wings disturb the white fog.
“Gideon. It is too late,” Dragon tells me through the scale.
Through our shared vision, I borrow Dragon’s eyes to perceive what was hidden from my own. The heaps of small bodies are no longer breathing. No traces of life are left. Crows have pecked their soft flesh and gouged out their tiny eyes. Hasty bugs have already laid their eggs and spawned their young.
“What the hell!”
Then I see it amid the decaying, altered corpses. I notice a sole bright-green ribbon dangling from disheveled black hair tied back into braids.
“AAAH! What the HELL!”
It’s her. The innkeeper’s daughter.
“Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!” I gnash my teeth back and forth, cutting my tongue and filling my mouth with blood. “If only I had noticed sooner!”
I slam my fists into the ground. I punch and kick the trees. It’s not enough to contain my rage. Bitter heat rushes up from every limb in a single second, searing and piercing my brain. I can’t stamp it out.
But this kinda shit happens all the time so why can’t I deal with it? It ain’t the first time some scumbag has done this, so why can’t I take it? Why can’t I suck it up and let it go with a small smile? Can I give up? Can I stay quiet? Isn’t that what everyone else does? Isn’t that why these atrocities have continued for millennia?
I won’t accept this. Whether I’m an adult, child, or an elderly man—whether I live for decades or centuries—I will never accept this!
“Gideon Thorn.”
“…What?”
“Do not place blame upon yourself for the predation of hatchlings by others. They appear to have already been very weak before they were left here. They did not last long after they were abandoned.”
“That ain’t the problem!”
I couldn’t save ‘em. I couldn’t save this girl even though I watched her sing just the other day. She was havin’ a blast, playing with her friends by tossin’ around that ball. We even spoke. She was undeniably alive and well. I know that.
“…lp…me…” I hear the ghost of a voice. “Help…me…”
I’m not just hearing things. A faint, strangled voice comes from the huddled girls.
“Hang on. Just hang on. I’ll help you right now.”
I dig through the heaps of cold corpses. A small girl with light-brown hair is stooped over. Her heart expands as far as it can go and contracts. Through Dragon’s eyes I can see it—the faint light given off by all living things…
“She’s alive!”
“Indeed. That hatchling still clings to life.”
But she’s weak. The light representing her life seems like it could go out at any moment. I lift the chilled body in my arms and wrap my cloak around her.
“Stay with me. Can you hear me? Can you hear my voice?”
Her eyelids shudder slightly and crack open. “I’m cold.”
I clasp her body tightly to my chest to share my warmth. Her tiny hand clings to me like her life depends on it.
“You’ll be okay now. I’ll get you to safety right away.”
“Where…?”
“To a safe place.” I stand up with her in my arms. She can’t stop shaking. “I’m bringing her back with me.”
“I concur with your decision.”
I can still see the bright-green ribbon amid the milky white fog. I wanted to at least give them a decent burial, but…
“…I’m sorry.”
“The dead can wait. Make haste, Knight Gideon.”
“I know! I’ll be back soon!”
Geez, I don’t even have time to wallow in mourning for ‘em?
“You can still do something for that hatchling.”
Right you are, stupid lizard. It’s frustrating, but his judgment is correct right now.
✦ ✦ ✦
“I’M back.”
“I’ve been waiting, Gideon. Bring her to my room!” Princess calls.
Warm, damp air is fillin’ the inside of our Millennial Tree Hideaway. A roaring fire burns and crackles in the hearth, where a pot is boiling. Steam densely billows out from it. But that’s not the only source. Dragon’s steadily keepin’ the air heated from his room in the cellar. They prepared this much as I was on my way back? Smart choice. We gotta warm up the girl’s chilled body, but it’s not like we can introduce a dying child directly to Dragon at this point—she might not survive the shock.
I race up the stairs and jump to the second-floor. Princess throws her door open without hesitation. She springs over to her bed and rolls down the blankets.
“Put her here!”
I lay down the small body. Dragon’s heat has sufficiently warmed the upper floors. Cheeks, arms, and hands that’ve been soaked in the frigid fog are warmin’ up. Water can either leech your body heat away or return it.
Make it in time. Please.
“It’s warm…” A little color returns to her icy cheeks.
“You’re okay now. It’s safe here.”
The girl unsteadily reaches out a trembling hand as if she’s trying to cling to something. Princess reaches out and envelops the girl’s hand between her palms. The girl’s cracked lips quiver.
“You’re…in danger. Run. Run.”
“I’m okay.”
“No…no…no…RUN, you have to RUN!” the little girl cries out, panic gripping her worn features.
Her entire body trembles and shakes irregularly.
“Why must I run?” Princess asks.
“You hafta flee. They’ll th-they’ll come and get you, t-take you to the bad place. Th-They’ll catch you…and drag you to that evil castle.”
Tch. The bad feeling I had was on the money.
“All of them…all…seven-year-old girls—that is what the bad men kept saying over and over, all are taken away. Some die on the way. Some have the hair torn from their heads.” She sniffles, but the girl is so absorbed and panicked that she just keeps talking as if in a dream. “Some have their arms broken, and others have worse than worse stuff done to them…AHH!” Her eyelids peel back and her face spasms. “…Then they get thrown in the forest. Because he says so. Because he says, ‘wrong, wrong, this one’s not her either!’”
Princess grips her hand and pulls the frightened girl to her chest, “Don’t worry…no one here will do anything bad to you.”
“AH…aah…aaah…” the girl screams out and gasps for air as she clings to the only lifeline she has.
Tears run from her wide-open eyes. I can do nothing more than wipe them away for her. She exhales a long, long, long breath. Wheezes, soundin’ like she breathes cold wintry winds.
“Who said those things?” Princess asks in the coldest tone I have ever heard from her.
“Th-The most i-important p-person at the c-castle,” is all the girl stutters out, before closing her eyes.
“Did she fall asleep?” Princess asks.
“Yeah, she’s asleep,” I answer, confirming that her chest under the blanket is slowly moving up and down with her breathing.
“She must’ve been scared,” Princess whispers.
“Yeah. Must’ve been frightened to death.”
We leave the room and close the door.
On the way down the stairs, Princess quietly asks, “Is it my fault?”
“No.” I turn around and hold her hand, just as she had done for the girl. Princess is a step above me, and we’re at just the right height to be at eye level. Holding her hand with both of my palms, I slowly and carefully pronounce each word to persuade her, “You’ve done nothing wrong, Princess.”