Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A writer, a small village, and dreams almost as far out of reach as the wealth boarded up in a distant castle. Every day she would find herself leaving her pale, chipped up wood cabin to stroll down the same dirt path while gawking at the vastness of it all. Towers as tall as the eyes could see, caressing the gray clouds that slowly moved above. A sort of silence fell over the area as if any noise was to be permanently hushed by the thick layer of mist that loomed around it. She pondered often that if she were to scream within its walls that it might echo through the nearby woods from being so empty. The only residents she had known to live there were black birds and a field of scarecrows. There were mentions of an heiress living in the great stone palace, Lady Alcina Dimitrescu, who only was mentioned by Mother Miranda-- the Goddess of the village-- when she needed more Help. The redheaded woman felt a sense of both comfort and fear from the blonde Mother. She could scare away the Lycans, but only at her own will. She knew if the goddess was not prayed to enough, that she had no reason nor desire to save anyone in the village. The poor woman did her best to pray consistently every night at her shrine within her small home. One day she worries it will not be enough to please Mother Miranda. 

The writer was a young woman with dreams, and perhaps if she were born elsewhere, she may have been able to achieve them in a more ethical matter. For the small-framed fire-haired girl had to resort to other means for money to support her passions. She took a deep, long breath, and felt the coolness of the wind coat her skin. The night was breezy which required her to opt in on wearing her knitted green shawl over her shoulders. Through her shivers, a little orange leaf floated through the gust and embedded itself through the crochet. The aspiring author looked down and smiled upon it, also feeling like that leaf sometimes. Small drifts feeling like a whole journey only to find herself be stuck in yet another situation. Or, in her case, with another client. She sighed while picking out the leaf, twiddling it with her pointer finger and thumb, causing it to spin in a circle in her grasp. And just like the plant, she too was spinning out of control. Her rosy, pink lips kissed the leaf as she gave it another toss to the wind. It quickly wisped away from her to find another path. Maybe one day she will also escape the village. 

Her heeled brown boots clopped into the dirt path as she continued her way down the hill and into the main village center. Her client, Mr. Worthy, was waiting for her in the tavern. He was a sloppy man in his mid-forties, terribly divorced, with a fair amount of brown hair left-- minus the bald spot on his crown. His breath always reeked of whiskey, and his skin had a slight sheen of constant oil. The front of his neck and chest had been leathered by the farm work in the sun on long summer days. He was by far her least favorite client, but the man was willing to spend every piece of silver for her company. No one in the village was as desperate as him to save his reputation after losing his woman to another man. Mr. Worthy had something to prove, that he was still man enough to get anyone he wanted. The artist just played her part for the pay. 

Upon reaching the tavern, soft drums and wooden flutes could be heard in the great hall. Her cold clammy hand reached the handle of the heavy wooden door, bracing herself to dare open it. The light from within the building could have blinded her if she didn't already walk in with her head down. She was instantly greeted by the smell of liquor, body odor, and the distinct smell of yeast from fresh rolls. There at the bar was Mr. Worthy, with his white shirt untucked, gray bowler hat on the table, and distressed denim jeans. She could tell he already smoked a cigar while waiting for her. His yellowed teeth would reveal just how recent it was. 

"Ayyyeeeee!" Mr. Worthy shouted, his hand on a glass of liquor raised up in the air. "There's my girl! C'mon over here, beautiful." He waved the sloshing liquid towards him before taking a sip and slamming the glass down. 

The redhaired woman smiled sheepishly and made her way through peering eyes to find herself a seat. 

"Now, now..." He placed a hand on her right thigh, leaning in, "what took you so long?"  

A grin painted itself on her face. "Well, Julian, I was getting myself ready for a long night." Her green eyes glistened with falsehoods that anyone sober would never fall for. 

Mr. Worthy grunted in agreement. "You know I always last long," he nudged her elbow with his, "just for you” he added. 

"Don't I know it," she spoke with a sultry voice. Leaning further into his personal space. She could feel his hand make its way from her thigh down to the bottom of her long, tan skirt. Slowly he tickled his fingers to hike up the garment enough to feel her bare skin. He gripped tightly as if to make a claim on the girl. 

He gave her thigh a good smack. "Mmm!" He held out a pointer finger to stop her from talking as he turned to finish his drink. After a gasp of feeling refreshed, he looked at her face with sloshed hunger. "Now... Let's get to the good part." He stood up, scooting his wooden stool back with a squeak and held out his hand. 

Reluctantly she took it, but feigned interest. 

The two walked hand in hand to his much dingier abode. 

He opened the door in a hurry, and all but nearly shoved her inside of the room as if to prevent her from backing out at last minute. He slammed the door quicker than he had even opened it. The girl let out a soft gasp over the push, taking in the very familiar room in front of her. A bed was in the right back corner of the room and has always remained unmade. The same cobweb graced itself above, long since abandoned as was any hope for cleaning it. Dust was nestled in-between each layer of chiseled logs that made the structure. She only dreamt of restoring this place to its beautiful potential, bustling with family and the sweet aroma of squash soup. She imagined herself baking a fresh loaf of bread in the woodfire stove. Instead, all that was there was a draft under the door that no longer fit the hinges, and darkness barely kept away by four standing candles. Everything within was the embodiment of the man who lived there: cold, gray, and no sense of life.  

With much distain she walked towards the bed while stripping off her clothes. Shawl, linen dress, boots, and stockings all came off piece by piece. The only thing she kept on her was her mother's necklace, a dainty bronze wire nestled around a green painted stone. It was told to be lucky. She has experienced no such thing. 

As tragic as it was, she was glad her parents could not see what she was about to do. 

They were both ashes to the wind after the last harsh winter had taken them. 

Both had given their daughter half portions of their rations until there were none left. 

Their bodies consumed them quicker than the fevers from the cold had set. 

"Good, Lass..." The older man cooed, the smell of booze danced in the air like a drunken fae. It shook the woman from her thoughts of comfort. 

The fair skinned girl cheekily smiled, sitting on the bed with her legs spread apart. 

He wasted no time mounting his throne, pushing himself down on top of her and scooting her to the single hay stuffed pillow on the bed. Each piece of straw lightly jabbed into her exposed skin. She hated every feeling of him: the thick coating of dried sweat on his skin, the alcohol flavored saliva, and the smell of horse dung that clung to his clothes. He really was vile in both appearance and theory. Yet, the man found himself purring towards her as if to coax a kitten to play-- in which she did not. His right hand slid along her left thigh and quickly pulled both her legs apart to squirm himself between them. Mr. Worthy pulled down his own filthy trousers to expose his unimpressive, semi limp cock. She did not bother to look down as she already knew it was nothing to gawk at anyways. Her mouth had been around it enough to know it would never make her gag despite any amount of sobriety to help him get erect. 

Worthy looked down at his shaft and gripped it with his left hand. He, too, looked bothered as he attempted to arouse it by shaking it to full stiffness. As every other time, tonight would not be the night. Alcohol stunted any chance of potential growth. The man pretended to be confident and wiggled his eyebrows towards her, as if to prove a point. To make himself feel large so that she would feel lucky enough to be fucked by such a member. The girl met his eyes and subtly widened hers with a head nod flirtatiously. All the writer wanted was his money. 

He took his rod and lightly tapped her clit before sliding it inside of her nearly dry opening. He was slimy enough for both of them. To be fair, she could barely feel it. The old man immediately moaned to the point that she was not sure if he was having some form of a stroke. He moved himself in and out of her quickly while making sure her legs were wrapped around him. He always wanted to make sure she left full of his seed for any last-ditch effort to continue his sorry lineage. However, she always kept herbology books for a reason and was fond of methods of special teas. He could dump in her all he wanted to; nothing would ever come of it. The girl wiggled under him and gave meek sounds of encouragement, lightly lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. 

"You like that don't ya? Feels good dun'it?" He grunted, slamming his full weight into her. 

As fast as it started, it ended. Within another nine pumps he began to breathe quickly. The sounds of slapping were mostly from his gut; the other was just a natural reaction to her thinking about anything else. He leaned over her, forcing his mouth onto her with a wet sloppy kiss that was mixed with hot air. 

"Here comes your babies," he moaned into her mouth, making sure he was as deep inside of her as possible. He shot out a hot load into her, keeping himself locked in. He gave a few more juts before sliding out and plopping down next to her. 

Within moments he was asleep. 

She laid there, motionless, for several moments before deciding to carefully unstick herself from the blanket. She uncaringly wiped herself with it, leaving a trail of goop to soil his only one nice possession. The redhead sighed as she truly despised the feeling of what was to come next. The same 'ol tea that would destroy any chance this man had at procreating. Her hatred for the stomach cramps and frequent restroom trips possibly rivaled the conception aspect. None the less, the only thing that brought her comfort was the fact that he was relatively clean and had not given her a sexual disease. 

The girl got up, got dressed, slid on her green shawl, and slithered out the front door with a gentle creak of the wood. Once on the other side she took a much-needed long inhale before expelling out a cool cloud of relief. A slight gust chilled the sweat on her forehead and back of her neck, causing her to shiver in the moonlight. Her walk home was going to be uncomfortable. 

Leaf after leaf crunched below her dirtied boots as her head hung low in a walk of shame back to her cabin. She counted every step on the way there-- which should be exactly 467, but sometimes she would lose count. She was on step 114 when she heard a rustle to the side of the path in a rather plump looking shrub. She contemplated stopping for a moment as her foot was raised to take another step, but she put it back down. 114. Soft locks leaned over her shoulder as she cocked her head to peer towards the bush. The young woman squinted her green-hazel eyes to an almost impossible almond shape. 

Slowly, a little gray and brown long-haired tabby cat poked its head through the leaves, looking curiously up at her. It appeared to be an adult, but very small. One ear, the left one, was half ripped off as if a Lycan had gotten to it, or maybe just another cat fight. In all reality, it most likely was a wild dog of some sort. The longest whisker on either side of its face created a lightning strike pattern. The fur was very tousled and dirty, and its right eye was sealed shut from bacteria. It was only as one would describe to be: mangey. It was skinny almost to the brink of death as its full frame emerged from the shrub. The cat lowered its head and carefully crawled to the girl on her knees who was trying to coax it out. 

"Hi there, sweet thing," She cooed softly. "It's okay. I'm friendly." 

The woman held out her hand and dared not to move as the cat brushed its black nose up against it. It was as if the creature let out a sigh of relief as it laid its head fully on top of her hand. 

"Can I pick you up?" The girl inquired, slowly moving her other hand around to show the cat that she now had two hands trying to reach it. It was not bothered. It surrendered completely. She picked up the cat with care and cradled it like a baby in her arms. "I'm just going to do a little quick check on your tummy, okay?" She carefully went to brush some matted fur from the cat's stomach, checking to see if there was an indication on its sex. A little plump pouch and slightly elongated nipples had let her know this was a female, and she had kittens before. It had been a while since she had nursed. It made the redhead sad, because if this mother cat was skinny and so willing to go with a strange human, then that indicated her babies didn't survive long either. 

"A girl all out here by yourself trying to survive, huh?" She softly scratched the cat's head. "Sounds like me, too!" She smiled down at the critter who was already lulled half asleep. She turned to face the road and proceeded to count. 115...116...117...118...119- 

"Ah..." A mysterious voice broke the sound of crunching debris under her toes. 

The woman stopped sharply, alarming the cat to full consciousness. The cat whipped its head around and greeted the aberration with a low, threatening grumble in her throat. The woman could feel the blood leave her face and travel to her feet, quickly numbing them in place. Regardless of how hard she tried, she could not move nor speak. 

"Come on now, a young woman like yourself shouldn't be walking the streets alone at night. Who knows what could be out there," he continued to chastise her decisions. "There's so much potential in you." He clicked his tongue in his cheek while shaking his head. It was as if he knew what she had just done with herself. 

She continued to stare at him in wide-eyed disbelief, as if he were a ghost. 

The man adjusted himself in his cart, causing it to shake from side to side. He was a rather large man, much larger than she had ever seen. Not just in height, but also girth. His stomach jutted out from a white collared shirt with the appearance of curdled milk. The buttons in the last two rows were of no use to contain the spillage. He was dressed in formal attire with a gray coat over the shirt, which also did not fit. Matching gray slacks rested on his legs hidden by a dirtied red blanket. Though with the formality came a sense of casual, as the man decided that he no longer needed to wear shoes. To either side of him were open shelves from the back of the wagon, stocked with elixirs and trinkets. A deep smell of cigars and gun powder filled the air around him. A small book, most likely his ledger, always stayed by his side. 

He was a fairytale, a myth of sorts. No one could say they've ever met the man, without having a witness to back up the claim. There's only been old wives tales about both the fortunes and mishaps this djinn could bring. Some say he was found by Mother Miranda long ago in a cave disguised as a lantern, and some say he was summoned like a demon. Nonetheless, he was directly in front of her in what was expected to be: flesh. People who encountered The Duke did not last long in the Village. One way or another. He was used as a warning to be satisfied with what you had or risk losing it all to greed or idiocy. 

"You..." She gulped loudly, trying to calm the kitten down. "You're..." 

The man leaned forward to his thighs, causing the caravan to creak and lean upwards. 

"The Duke, and I'm at your service, young one. You're just in luck!" He cackled loudly into the air, knowing that no one would be listening to their conversation. "I hear you are a very bright and talented writer. What is a woman like you stooping so low for?" He cocked an eyebrow while leaning back to his slouched position, lighting a thick cigar. 

She sighed in shame, honestly there was nothing worse than admitting to your darkest secrets. Let alone having to give the reason for them. "Paper is expensive," she started. "I give the men what they want, so I can get what I need. I need paper to write. If I write something good enough, it could be my way out of this place." She sighed. "I have never seen anything else but the village, but the books I have read have had such livelier places." 

The Duke nodded as he took a drag of the tobacco and thoughtfully blew it to the wind. 

"I see," He pondered for a moment. "And do you believe you are?" His head tilted. 

She looked around in thought before answering, "believe I'm what?" 

"Good enough," the man stated bluntly without expression. 

The girl was taken aback by the question she had never asked herself before. Did she really believe she was a good enough writer to novel her way out of the village? Slow, long strokes to matted fur under her palms accompanied this thought. She knew she was brilliant for her age and place in the world but compared to other authors she was unsure. She was very humble with her talent and left that question up to him. 

"I believe so, but I also believe in readers discretion," She calmly replied. "Everyone has their own interests, and I certainly know mine. Hopefully with that I will retain the right audience to help me escape this hell." 

He waved his cigar in a circle and gave her a sly grin, "And what interest is yours?" 

"Romance," she replied quickly and without shame. "I like Romance." 

Duke’s belly shook as he cockily laughed to himself. 

"And is what you are doing now... Would you consider that romance?" 

All the confidence faded from the redhead's speech. 

"No..." She lowered herself in embarrassment. "Definitely not." 

He flickered his cigar. The bright burning ashes sailed away like lost dreams. 

"I have a proposition," he stated while waving the tobacco about. "What if I told you that you could have both romance and leave this place at the same time? Could have all the paper you could dream of without needing to enslave your body to grotesque figures?" 

"Then," she laughed softly while shaking her head. "Then I would tell you that I know who you are, and what you are capable of. I'm not completely ignorant to your ways." 

He pursed his lips in preparation for a strong debate. "I appreciate your knowledge of who I am but make no mistake. Those who crossed a deal with me, have also crossed me on my deal. The graves they dug were their own. Be honorable and true, and I be the same, Dear." 

She almost believed him for a moment. Even if- 

"What if I told you my words hold no malice? What you hear, is what you will get." 

The girl contemplated this. "What's in it for you?" 

"Ah," He looked at the end of his cigar and carefully dapped it out of light on his wagon before throwing it onto the dirt. "Straight to business. I like that. Here is what is in it for me, Mother Miranda will have a more devoted follower, and I will be free to continue to travel as I wish instead of being confided to a light." 

It indeed sounded like a good deal. Freedom for freedom. 

"I'll think about it," she said calmly before taking a step away from him. 120... 121- 

The Duke loudly called out to her as she walked away from him. "One time offer, girl!" 

That stopped her 122nd step. She turned to face him once more. She found herself thinking and weighing out the odds. At the end of the train of thought, she decided that anything that could happen to her couldn't be any worse than what was happening now. If she had one shot out of the village, she was going to take it. The cat in her arms grumbled at the man again when the girl approached him. 

"Take it, or leave it," he restated, holding out an opened right hand for a shake. 

"What are the terms for failure on this deal?" She asked, raising her right hand to her ear. 

"Failure? You don't meet my client." The Duke looked boldly into her eyes. "He is quite a famous captain from Spain. He will be in port due tomorrow for a restock of supplies. I assure you; he is going to be worth a night spent. One night with him, and your dreams will come true. It's no different than what you are doing now with lackluster results." 

The author slowly extended her hand out and barely was able to reach his fingertips before the man shot forward and grabbed her hand tightly. Their hands emitted a faint golden glow at contact, buzzing at the mysterious force. A silent contractual bond that physically felt to wrap around them. She looked in his eyes and saw the devil for a moment.  

"Captain Cabral will be in green, your favorite color. Do not stray," he reminded her. 

She pulled back her hand quickly, cusping the cat tightly to her chest, and quickly walked away from the chuckling giant. 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126- 

‘Wait...’ she thought. ‘How did he know her favorite color?’ 

The woman quickly turned around to a vast empty space.  

The man was no longer there. 

He never was, according to any passerby in the village. 

The Duke is seen to only those he wishes to be revealed to. 

He only makes deals to those he wishes to be spoken to. 

Those who hear him have careful ears. 

Tomorrow would be the day her life would change forever. 

467 steps seemed a lot longer this night compared to the others. And somehow the wind picked up her feet and brought her home faster than ever. She carefully put the scrawny cat down and it rubbed up against her legs. She removed the green shawl from her shoulders and placed it on her chair next to the fireplace. She glanced down at the cat. 

"You're going to love this," she said softly, patting it on its head as she took a seat. She carefully leaned forward and picked up a dark stick and a metal file. She struck the flint and metal together until it sparked on the shaved tinder on top of the logs. Slowly the wood came to life, dancing in a blaze of an orange and yellow tango only to be kissed by blue heat. The tabby quickly found itself embracing the passion, curling up next to her feet and falling asleep with ease for the first time in who knows how long. The lady sighed, bending down to scoop up the cat onto her lap who stretched out and yawned before falling asleep again. She leaned backwards and caught herself thinking peaceful thoughts for the first time. She would have to take the tea after meeting with her client tomorrow. The heat lulled her to sweet dreams. 

Morning came quickly with little pause in the night. She found herself awake faster than she was able to fall asleep, her body too restless to find comfort. Today was the beginning of the rest of her life and she wasn’t going to miss it for the world. The fire-haired girl quickly went to her wooden tub to check the quality of water. Still decent. She lit the small stone fireplace to warm up some fresh rocks and put them both in and under the tub. The woman slowly slid into the lukewarm bronze basin and washed every inch of her body as much as possible, including her fingernails. She softly rubbed her skin with soap and freshly kissed it with peppermint leaves and flower oil. 

The redhead looked at her attire as she dried herself with a wool towel. Her newfound companion meowed and stretched to greet her, clearly hungry. She looked around and saw some dried rations of fish hanging up from the wall. With swift movements, she tore down two full fish and put them down next to the starving stray. The cat purred and quickly began to eat the dried carcass with a satisfying crunch. 

She opted to wear a gown that was dark gray in color. It draped down to her ankles in a cascade of monotony. It would almost be too boring if not for the pops of emerald green trim at the bottom and neck of the dress. She adorned herself with silver jewelry like handmade earrings, her family heirloom necklace, and a silver vambrace bracelet. The gray complimented her pink tones, while the subtle hints of green brought out her hair and eyes. She looked clean, professional, and classy. Her hair was softly wavy and twisted neatly over her left shoulder. It slightly caressed her chest on the way to her mid torso. 

Her mind floated to curious places. 

Captain Cabral. 

She wondered what he looked like, this famous Spaniard captain in green. She had never seen someone from Spain before, let alone someone of major wealth. No matter, even if she wasn’t interest in men romantically, The Duke swore to her that she would have romance and all she could need. If she had to settle down with a man to leave the village—so long as he was nice, she would. The man couldn’t be too bad to look at if he was deemed to be wealthy. She took a moment to wipe her palms on her gown to smooth it out. She took a deep breath and let out a slow sigh, expelling any sort of tension. Never again would she need to spend a night with Mr. Worthy; all she had to do for The Duke was go see this handsome captain. It couldn’t be that bad... Right? 

She walked away from her humble home and down the same dirt steps that had only gotten deeper over the years with the frequent walking. The air felt particularly charged with an energy she had never experienced before. A smooth, soft breeze was crisp with the potential of a new beginning. Her beginning. She closed her tender eyes and took it in. A shift. The winds of change. Everything was falling into place just for her. 

“1...2...” She began to count as she took her first steps to the docks. Her mind flooded with more thoughts on this mysterious captain, as well as The Duke. Had she really seen him, or was it all a dream? She already knew she couldn’t tell anyone about it because no one would believe her anyway. She hummed to herself in deep thinking; perhaps the large man was just a figment of her imagination. The closer she got to the ocean, the more she was sure that the large ogre of a being was pure fantasy. 610 steps to the docks and she was there. The smell of the water filled her lungs in a moist salty breeze. Seagulls swirled above waiting for the moment to dive for some helpless victim's rations. Their laughs pierced her ears. Could there be any worse of a bird? She truly wished that she could take one by the throat to instill fear into the damned thing before throwing it back to the winds. 

But beyond that, there in the horizon, stood a tanned man in all green. He was speaking to a couple of dirtied sailors. He wore a large black brimmed cap with a white feather pierced into its left side. Tall, shiny leather boots went up to below his knees. He stood relatively large, perhaps 6’1” give or take, with a more athletic build compared to the villagers. His dark goatee was neatly trimmed with his mustache in a slight upwards twirl, and his broad chin hair did not hang off of his face. The captain looked to be freshly shaved otherwise. His raven hair swam past his shoulders freely and newly oiled. He was... Clean. When the sailor walked away the man began to look around until he saw the woman staring at him. He tilted his head. Light brown eyes scanned her features and then softened. A white nearly perfect smile graced his lips. He waved her forward. 

She was stunned for a moment but had to trust the process. This man was the key to her future. Romance, wealth, and freedom were just in her reach. Well, almost. The girl slowly approached him while making sure to not drag her dress along the wet sandy soil. The closer she got, the more his likeness became detailed. The man had thickly arched eyebrows, the mustache did not touch his upper lip, and he had gold broaches on either side of his shirt connected by a thin gold chain. His nose was a bit longer than hers, and his skin had a few fine lines. He seemed to be in his late 30’s compared to her being 25 summers old. Was none worse than Worthy.  He was handsome, anyone blind could tell. 

“Hola, mi señora,” he smiled warmly. “How are you this day?” He offered his hand to her. 

She took it gracefully. “I’m well,” she replied in kind. “How was your sail?” 

The man laughed and shook his head “Ah... Rudo... We did hit some not fair weather.” He looked her up and down slowly. “A fan of green as well?” The captain stood back and held out his arms to gesture to his emerald tunic. The color went well with his tanned skin and gold. 

“Yes!” She shouted excitedly. “It’s my most favorite color. Green is... the essence of life.” 

Cabral pursed his lips and gazed at her in almost a question like manner. It appeared that he was thinking something deeply as several seconds passed with no words. Before long, the main rose his right pointer finger to the air with a grin. 

“Ah, yes! That’s what you’re missing!” He turned around and clapped his hands loudly before putting his fingers in an O fashion to his lips. He blew out a loud whistle that could have been heard to the end of the docks. Three sailors quickly dropped their crates and ran to the side of Cabral. “Please fetch me the gift from my cabin.” He demanded. 

The three sailors took off quickly back to the ship and came out moments later with something neatly wrapped in a red silk cloth. Cabral carefully slipped away the fabric to reveal a dozen red roses. How did he even travel without these wilting? The gentleman stepped towards the redhaired woman and bowed before her. 

“For you, mi estimada,” he spoke softly as he reached out the flowers for her to take. 

She didn’t know how to respond. No one has ever given her flowers before. It was such a sweet gesture, she just wished she could feel something more from it in kind. He was friendly and good looking, but no man would ever fill her true desires. Luckily for them, no one in the village was her age or daring enough to live that lifestyle with her. Thus, she had no other option but to be courted by this man. 

“I-... Thank you, Captain,” she carefully took the flowers. “How sweet of you.” 

He stood up straight and held out a bent elbow as an invitation for her to walk with him. Before she took it, the man quickly turned away and whipped out a white and red handkerchief and coughed into it. Blood. He quickly cleaned his mouth out with his flask and spat out the liquid. The napkin was tucked deep into his pocket. 
 
“My apologies, my lady.” He sniffled. “We all get a small ailment once we land. I assure you it’s normal. Several months out at sea will do that to a man, salty lungs and all.” He smiled at her and held out his arm again. She took it gently as to not hinder him further. “Tell me about you, doncella, what is it that you enjoy in life?” He inquired calmly. 

She was very pleased at his ability to hold a proper conversation. “Well, I do enjoy reading from time to time. My real passion is being the one who writes the novels. I guess you could say I am an aspiring author. My dream is to find success one day and leave this village.” 

He nodded his head listening to her while walking to his residence. “What will you do when you leave this place? Do you have any dreams outside of here?”  

“Erm...” She hadn’t thought to much about that. “One goal at a time is my main focus.” 

“How about...” He stopped in front of his door. “You come back to Spain with me? I can take care of you, madam. I can provide all you need. I will have you fill libraries with your mind. Whatever you want. I only ask one thing.” 

She tilted her head and quipped her brow, “and what is that?” 

He opened the door slowly to his home. “That after tonight, you are mine and mind alone. No one else shall have you. Your body is for my gaze, your heart for my soul, and your touch for my embrace. No one will know of your pleasures but me. Swear it now.” He blinked softly. The captain meant every word with emotion. Tenderness dripped like hot wax. 

The redhead thought for a moment while glancing at the door. 

Does she really want to submit herself to this stranger? He was a much better suitor than the rest, that was sure, but she did not know him. What would happen if she went to Spain? Would he turn on her? Would he expect her to be having his children and be submissive? That life just wasn’t for her... But something about him gave no such feeling. 
 
He was true. Honest. Kind. A real gentleman who probably had a close relationship with his mother, or a very sad history. He cleared his throat while staring at her eyes. Her gaze shot up to meet his warm chocolate orbs. 

“Yes,” she whispered. “I swear it,” she vowed. 

Anything had to be better than this. Here. 

The man grinned wide and physically swooped her off her feet. The door opened without a creak to reveal a very warm and inviting living area. He carried her inside like a new bride, and with as much pride in his steps to hold her. Clean oil lanterns filled the corners, hanging on pristine brass hinges. A large, waxed oak table was the focal point near the middle. It was strong and firm, just like the man who bought it. Matching chairs with red velvet cushions hugged its edges. A spiral staircase with gold trimmed railings went mysteriously upwards to an unknown area. His bedroom, perhaps. The room smelled of a mixture of warm cedar and aged spices. Masculine, inviting, and dare she admit... Sexy? 

“My lady, this is my home on the port. I do not visit often, but I have staff to keep it clean. Everything should be ready for us.” He carefully put her down. “Upstairs is the bed and clothing. I also have a tub that is easy to heat. The dining area is just here. And over there-” He went to go point but quickly reached into his pocket for the cloth again. He furiously coughed into it and broke into a slight sweat. More blood. He calmly walked to the kitchen and swished more liquid into the basin from his mouth. He scraggily inhaled a wet breath and put the dirtied rag in the sink. A drawer was opened that reveled more cloths. He put one into his pocket. 

The captain walked back to the woman in the house. “I’m very sorry,” he composed himself. “As I was saying, over there are some books and journals with pens if you wish to write or read anything after tonight.” He smiled. 

“Thank you,” she replied genuinely. He had really paid attention to her.  

He walked over to her and placed a soft kiss on top of her forehead and softly stroked a hand through her hair. “You’re very beautiful, but I do not want to pressure you. I must admit that I do wish to get to know you tonight. Please feel no rush from me.” 

It was now or never. She didn’t want him to back out, and she didn’t want to fail the Duke. 

“I’m ready,” the woman bit her bottom lip. “Take me upstairs.” She just wanted to get this part over with to begin the rest of her new life.

Cabral happily stepped in front of her, took her hand, and slowly led her up the stairs. 

The night was spent together in a tangle of soft embraces, gentle touches, and soft kisses. The man did his best to not have a coughing fit, and she could tell at times that he was running out of breath. This did not stop him as he was determined to make the night special. He had fancy wine and fresh fruit and bread waiting for them. The two drank and ate before engaging in activities. He did everything he could to make her feel as safe and secure as possible. Out of all her clients, he was the most human. And for the first time, she stayed the night, and he did not run away. 

She woke up feeling damp and cold as if something had slowly leaked onto her through the night. Her body was clammy as she opened her eyes. She looked to the side of her to see Cabral was covered in cold sweat. The man looked much paler than the day before. Blood was dried on the side of his mouth, and his eyes had become gaunt.  

“Ca-...” She swallowed hard with a gulp. “Cabral?” She reached over. 

He was still breathing. Wheezing. Weak. 

“Hi...” He wheezed. “Sunshine.” A faint smiled appeared on his face. “I think you should go now and get ready for Spain.” He coughed up a small spurt. 

She shook her head. “You need a doctor; I think you have that Sailor's disease.” 

“Ah,” he nodded. “This is no Scurvy. But yes, fetch a doctor and go pack your things.” 

The woman couldn’t help but pity him and listen to his instructions. 

“I’ll be back, okay?” She leaned over and kissed his cool lips. “A doctor is coming.” 

He reached over and grabbed her hand. Cabral gave it a light squeeze. 

“Do not forget now,” he whispered. “Don’t run off with another man.” He teased with a wink. 

She squeezed his hand in return. “There would never be another man.” This wasn't a lie.

The statement wasn’t wrong. It was him, or no man at all. 

He gave her one last grip, “Before you go...” He coughed. “What’s your name, angel?” 

The woman looked at him with gentle eyes. “I will tell you when we get to Spain.” 

“Sounds like a deal...” He smiled. “My name is Emilio. My crew calls me Lio.” 

She reached over and placed a kiss on his sweaty temple. 

“Time to get you a doctor, Emilio, we have a long voyage.” She quickly got up. 

He looked at their hands as they separated and his arm fell to his side. 

The sense of urgency took over the woman as she quickly ran down the steps and out the door. She got the attention of several sailors who immediately rushed to Emilio’s home. Her feet swiftly carried her to the middle of the village where the only doctor reside. Luckily for her, the doctor was free and packed his medical bag full of a different assortment of vials and herbs. She gave him all the details she could as he went to the house on the port via horseback. The woman felt a sense of relief as she knew the horse would get the older doctor there much quicker. Her heart, however, felt no such lifting of weight. Her mind went to him and how saddened she was to see him in such a sorry state. The man was good and as pure as one she’s ever known. 

The walk home was long. It took her most of an hour to get back. The door opened heavily as a dim living area greeted her. The sun shined through small windows on each side revealing dancing flecks of dust. 

Brrrrr...? 

An inquisitive sound chirped through the lit space. 

It was the cat who came quickly to her upon entry. 

“Hi sweet thing,” she bent down to stroke the cat who happily nuzzled her hand. “I brought you home some good breakfast! It’s called roast chicken.” The girl reached into her satchel and pulled out a carefully wrapped thick chicken breast.  

The cat began meowing loudly over the reveal of the meat and started to tunnel itself through the woman’s legs excitedly. She put the chicken down and the cat began to eat. The woman stood up and walked towards her wardrobe. A trunk was placed by her bed, with several clothes neatly folded inside. She could just buy more clothes in Spain; she was sure the captain would have several options. All she really wanted was this trunk, her books and supplies, and well- of course, her new furry friend. 

Upon bending over, she had a cough. Her chest felt tight and there was a little stinging pain in her throat. She thought it odd but tried not to think too much on it. Her focus was to get things ready for Spain. A small bead of sweat dripped down her spine, trickling down to behind her knee. Something was taking hold of her and overcoming her senses quickly. It was as if all the energy in her body had suddenly evaporated. 
 
“What’s going on?” She thought, feeling outright awful. “Maybe I just need some air.” 

The woman opened the front door and walked outside to take a long inhale of the afternoon sky.  As soon as her lungs attempted to intake, they constricted horribly causing her to have a torturous bout of sputtering coughs. As she caught her breath, she opened her eyes to see a string of thick velvet tickling the dirt from her mouth. The crimson plasma made her skin go cold. 

Blood. 

She was sick. 

“No, no, no...” She began to panic, the cat running outside sensing her fear. “Please no.” 

She hacked again, struggling much harder this time to get air. 

Her vision began to blur as she went in and out of focus. Wheezing cuddled every gasp. 

Her bony knees hit the dirt with a noticeable thud as she collapsed. A familiar cackle was heard in the distance, and she was unsure if it was a hallucination during her illness. There he was in the light of day, the jolly fat man in his cart with no horse. She looked up at him as blood covered her lips, her eyes burning from being deprived of oxygen. 

“Please...” She spat on the ground after a swift cough overtook her will. “Please no. I did what you asked. I did our deal. What did I do wrong? Why are you doing this?” She groaned. 

He laughed darkly at her suffering. “I promised you romance and everything you could ever want, did I not?” 

She shook her head, “I’m still here. I didn’t get to write. I didn’t get to travel.” 

The Duke leaned forward, shifting the entire wagon. 

“He was not the one I promised to you. You were only meant to meet him.” He clarified. 

The woman looked up at the djinn. “I’m dying.” 

The fat man nodded, “indeed you are. But you’re not done yet. I honor my deals.” 

“Put me out of my misery... I can’t take this anymore.” She pleaded. 

The fat man hummed for a moment, contemplating how much more he wanted her to suffer before coming to a decision. “As you wish.” He stated coldly, snapping his fingers quickly. There were no longer any sounds of birds or cicadas. No smell of blood or dirt. Not even a single thought was to be had. 

Without another passing minute, the air left her lungs and the darkness replaced her light. 

Black. Cold. Nothingness.

Chapter Text

She was alone out there on the outskirts of the busy village. The darkened forest was her home and always had been for as long as she could remember. Even as a young child, she found herself spending more time outdoors than in. Her imagination ran free whenever she was in the shrouds of trees. Her parents raised her to fend for herself, providing her with a vast knowledge of survival skills, and when she turned sixteen years of age she set out to survive on her own. She never looked back. They always knew she was going to be a free bird; her parents made sure to teach her how to fly.

Her relationship with her parents wasn't worthy of being estranged. They were not awful people. It was just simply the fact that the girl had an unwavering spirit that thirsted for adventure rather than connection. People simply didn't understand her the way that the trees did. She didn't see people the way she saw animals. She wanted a life full of experiences, peace, and grounding. A life in the village could never offer such a thing.

At some points throughout the year, she found herself craving their company. But the thought of even remotely getting close to that dystopian society for longer than necessary made her feel physically ill. There was no other place she would rather not be. Sure, her parents could perhaps visit her cabin, but it would ruin the ambience for her. Freedom was solitude in her mind. Anything other than her and nature would ruin it. The woman stuck solely to writing letters ever so often to make sure her parents were well, and to let them know that she was still alive.

Her area was quiet and beautiful. A perfect mixture of tranquil and horrific. Tall trees clouded around her cabin like an umbrella, shielding her from both prying eyes and the summer sun. Their long branches reached towards the gods seeking to absorb any power possible to transfer it to the earth. Her favorite tree was the one directly above her home; it had a convenient hidey hole in the middle that she could store trinkets or bait inside of. There were plenty of rabbits and squirrels during Summertime, and the Spring would bring on the deer for jerky to store for winter. The nearby lake offered small fish that she had created a farm for. She could just walk in and pick one by hand if she wanted to. Instead, she preferred to gather them by using a bow. Everything was how she made it to be, efficient, functional, and practical. She could live out here on her own until the end of time.

Her cabin. Her quant wooden home. She had cut several trees to craft it. Every log was perfectly chiseled and shaved and then cut to stack together like a puzzle. Layers of thick green moss tucked tightly between every crack, adding both insulation and water protection. Ivy blanketed itself from the roof, shielding the house even more from wanderers. She could even use it as a blind to hunt from if deer got close enough. It was hers, and it was perfect. It only took her seven months to build it.

Of course, she had little hobbies here and there other than just hunting and building. She wasn't a complete hermit where she didn't contribute to her fellow man. The dark-haired woman made little toy wooden goats every year for the village during the Yule season. The children practically clambered over each other to get them, and the adults loved to have them in their trees or mantals by the fire. She remembered fondly last year when a family had to send a little boy's sister off to service to feed them during the harsh winter. The child was deeply saddened, confused, and uninterested in the joyous season. She had kneeled before him and offered him a rare, hand painted goat that she had intended to give to only one special person. It was for anyone she felt that it was made for, and he was the one. His light lit up instantly as he threw his arms around her neck. Tears fell from his face leaving little wet spots on her hooded brown leather tunic. For a moment she wished she could keep him and have some company, but she was better off alone. Always has been. That was enough for her.

Her only known companion out in the wild was a frequent visitor. A man of unnatural size who sat in a wagon cart. He was a very wealthy merchant according to his own words. The man had traveled far and wide across the world and settled in Romania for the time being. Luckily for her, he would buy all her pelts and handmade tools. He would also exchange with her information on tracking whereabouts of certain animals she was seeking. Sometimes, the rich man would even come with gifts occasionally. The last time he arrived, he provided her with 10 steel ingots free of charge. Steel was always useful, and a pure ingot of it was hard to come by. Quite an expensive and generous offering.

Today was of no such exception. It was almost like clockwork when the man would arrive. Every Friday evening during the golden hour he would be waiting by the lake with his shaggy carriage. His temper was always even keeled with her. She had heard stories of him from her childhood but didn't believe it until he visited her on her 17th birthday. He has been with her ever since. They were almost considered to be close, the Duke being a godfather of sorts. But he would never say such a thing, and she would have no one to tell.

As of late, the woman was hungrier than usual. The animals had become unusually scarce in the region. She had not gone hungry in her 29 years of life. Even the berries were deemed unfruitful. The weather had almost deprived everything of life in a course of events she had never experienced. It was almost as if an eternal gloom had set over the forest. The winds shifted to something cold, and hollow. It was a feeling she couldn't put into words. All she knew is that it was dark, heavy, and ominous. Something was just not right.

She knew, at least, the Duke could offer her something. She hoped it was more tips. There were no hooves to track, no pawprints to find, and no birds to hear. All her snares came up empty on the daily. Her precious lake farm of fish had disappeared with a ripped net. None of them would bite any bait and only seemed to swim further away beyond her reach. The once crystalline sky, now an omen for darker times ahead. The raven hair woman began her descent to the lakeside where the Duke was waiting. He always beckoned her.

The man was sucking on a large cigar. Its ember fill tip engorged her vision as if the bright red beam had seared burning coals into her eyes. The thick smoke clung to the air like angry cotton clouds. One could only assume what his jacket must smell like up close. He was always smoking every time she saw him. Yet, he always had a friendly demeaner. A double-edged sword of a personality. There were times he was curt and blunt, like time was ticking in his own little world that he had a schedule for. It was a mutual benefit between them, so she did not care for how he behaved personally. She had seen her fair share of bastards.

"Well, well!" A creak from the cart emerged the large body. "Look who we have here."

The woman kept her face neutral. "In the flesh. What can I do for you now?"

The Duke sighed and shook his head. "Would it hurt to have a little conversation first?"

"Yes," she interrupted. "I'm starving. What do you need? I need food. Business. Now."

"You know," he clicked his tongue. "That behavior wouldn't fly in the market. You would scare all your customers away. You really should try to be nicer to those..." He leaned in closer to her with dead eyes. "Trying to help you."

A long exhale of a dramatic sigh hummed through her throat. "Are you done?"

His eyes squinted at her in distain before scooting back in his cart. "Yes. I need traps."

"What kind?" She stated professionally. "I have and make them all."

"Hmm..." He pondered while dabbing out his cigar. He placed the rolled burnt tobacco to the side. "Let's say I would need one large enough to, oh I don't know... Trap a man?"

She nodded in confirmation. "Yes, I have quite a few bear traps. How many?"

"Well, that depends," He chuckled briefly. "What do you want?"

The darkhaired woman pinched the bridge of her nose, shutting her brown eyes in annoyance.

 "I already told you. I need food. Where is all the food?"

"Ah, yes, right! You are looking thin indeed..." He put his right pointer finger to his lips and tapped them before speaking again. "I will tell you what. Give me five bear traps, and I will give you this map. This map contains a very secret location of a little hidden meadow that the deer like to hide in at this time of year. In fact, I saw them while heading just this way."

"Deal," she answered quickly, shooting her arm out with her hand extended to him. "I assume this order is for the tall, fair lady. You specified the traps would be for people."

The fat man nodded. "Yes, yes, for the Lady Dimitrescu. The one I've always told you stories about. She is quite a special client. She has such a fondness for men. In fact, she uses them as decor sometimes, and not just for dinner." He sat there for a minute in almost what could be described as shame. "She told me I was more blubber than meat, once, so I would be safe in her home to do business. I am not sure how to receive such a comment."

The girl couldn't help but scoff. "She's not wrong. Rude, but not wrong. You would be awful to eat if I, myself, had to be a cannibal. Your body would be far too much work to butcher. Now..." She cleared her throat as her stomach grumbled in protest. "Shake my damn hand."

The Duke grinned at her hand and slowly reached out before touching palms. He grasped onto her firmly, chaining her in a contract she couldn't break. For the time being, she belonged to him. He knew she could not run from him, hide from him, or trick him. Wherever she went, he would be watching. They are almost as one now. These deals were made very often. He knew her like the back of his own thick hand.

Her face remained like stone the entire process.

"Thank you," she muttered before stomping back to her cabin.

"No..." He said quietly while eyeing her, "thank you."

Her gut was cramping painfully and she knew she needed to move quickly, or she would have no energy left to hunt. A lump of molten metal replaced her most central organ burning every time she moved. Each step just consumed more calories that she couldn't risk losing. A body feels so heavy when it has nothing to fuel it. She had never found herself at the point of such need or risk. Now she knows what a desperate deal with the Duke feels like. Five bear traps were easy enough. It was a cake walk compared to other demands he sought. Once before he asked specifically for 96 iron nails, 15 oak planks, and 2 hand woven fish nets. He counted each nail out loud while glancing at her with distrust. Though he practically watched over her, he always made sure he was never shorted in a trade. When it came to his deals, he trusted no one. In kind she received money to spend at the market-- much more than she would've gotten had she sold all those things herself.

On the table were her bow, arrows in a bag sling for behind her back, two travel knives for her thigh holsters, a medium pouch of rations, a water skin, and a bandage should she need it. Of course, in all its traded glory, was the parchment map. It was perfectly detailed like a blueprint of the entire village, with a meadow about two and a half miles southeast of her location. With her conditioning and level of stamina, it should only take her about 30 minutes to reach it. The hunger would only prove to be more of a boost than a hinderance considering the food was so close. She would get there right before dusk. The deer should still be actively grazing.

"Alright," she let out a huff. "I think that's everything."

As the dark-haired woman spoke, her stomach retaliated with a mighty grumble.

"Listen, I get it, but you need to calm down," she looked down at her torso. "You're not helping me out here. Keep quiet until we get there. I don't care if you eat the damn deer raw." She placed all the equipment on her body.

A soft leather hood laid warmly over her head as it was connected to her small leather shoulder pauldrons that protected her from the string on the bow, and arrow carrier, while traveling. A patchwork dyed tunic was fasted up the front with sinew strings. A beautiful color of dark blue that was nearly gray from the sun. Hide tanned pants snuggly hugged her legs to be tucked into her tall leather boots. Everything was beautifully and expertly hand crafted. She took great pride in her work, as well as her hunting proficiencies.

With everything set to go. She picked up the detailed map and set out quickly.

Time was of the essence.

She went opposite of the setting sun and followed a nearly perfect trail that had been trodden down with recent use. The grass was still damp. And there it was... Hoof prints. Several of them. At least twelve in number. She could see recent fibers that had fallen off their coats. She only picked up her speed in haste to get on with the hunt after seeing signs of life. The Duke didn't lead her astray. She felt blessed by this deal. Her energy was draining by the minute, however. The sun was setting quicker than she realized, and at a faster rate than it would, given the current seasonal circumstance.

"What the hell is going on here?" She thought to herself. The wind began to pick up around her, trees rustling with old dark secrets. She could feel the coldness even in her hair. "If this turns into a storm, I swear by everything that I am going to kill that fat bastard."

She was so close to the meadow.

Just a couple hundred feet now.

Only had to get through a patch of tall shrubbery before seeing her goal.

She started to push her way through the green with force as the thick branches and leaves resisted her contact. Her arms folded over her face to protect her from snapping branches that would want to potentially use her eyeball as a kebab. The huntress pushed harder against nature as she was halfway through the bush.

"Fuck it," she muttered, trying to run through the damned thing.

It was all with great ease when she finally got through the bush, only to feel her feet give way under her. The speed and force she had used only gave her no time to react, as hiding right behind the bush was a steep gravel and dirt slope. There was nothing to grab onto, nothing to catch her from going down this unknown hill.

This was not on the map.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She yelled out, going feet first down the gravel that was cutting through her clothes as she continued to slide down. Out of desperate quick thinking, the woman brought out both of her daggers and attempted to jam it into the mountainside. One got caught in the rubble and quickly shot out of her hand from sheer acceleration of the event. It sped quickly down the cliffside and tumbling far beyond her line of sight. The other knife snapped in half. She looked down in shock. How did a mountain break steel?

She looked down in horror as the end of the hill revealed a terrifying sight.

500 feet from the bottom of the cliffside, that she was currently headed to at a rapid rate, was a cavernous den full something moving. They were not deer, and yet they were also unlike anything she had ever seen before. It looked like a mob of angry men, hunched over and yelling at each other. She tried her best to focus her eyes by squinting, but the dust flying up in her face at a rapid rate prevented her from seeing clearly. As she got closer, the more they moved. A few of the men began to fight each other excitedly noticing the female being sliding down the hill.

Her rump slammed harshly into the hardened soil at the base of the mountain, stinging her tailbone up to her neck through her spine. She struggled for air through a gasp as the wind got knocked out of her. Her mouth was left agape, clutching her chest through burning lungs. She was paralyzed for several seconds, being able to do nothing but succumb to the tingling and burning pain of her rear. The woman could only hope she didn't break anything. She was not in the position to fix it, let alone find a doctor to do so for her.

"Fuuuuuuuuucccckkkkk..." She groaned, slowly trying to stand up through the pain. She finally found a deep enough inhale to bring her senses back. Nothing seemed to be broken... Just very bruised. Luckily, her bow was still in her left hand, and she hadn't lost a single arrow. Her knives, however, we both out of the picture. She took a minute to scan her surroundings as she took on the scene before her. The group of angry men were approaching her. This time she could see much more clearly as to what they were.

Beast. Men like beasts. Their clothes were torn and tattered. Some didn't have shirts at all. Their skin was gray like all the blood had drained from their veins and they had never seen the sun. The hair on some of them was fur like in texture, while others were unkept and matted. A unison of snarls and growls came from the group instead of speech. Not even one of them wore boots. They were unlike anything she's ever hunted before. Her eyes widened at the sheer number of them. More than a dozen. She cleared her throat as they all turned to her in interest. She wasn't sure what to make of them.

"Hello?" She spoke boldly. Trying to offer some essence of humanity.

Nothing. No reply other than more snarling advancements. They were within 50 feet of her by the time she drew her bow and quickly notched an arrow in it.

"Get back!" She yelled loudly in warning, aiming at the one closest. "Say something!"

One lunged forward quickly with a sprint and exposed his clawed hands. She fired immediately lodging an arrow right in-between his eyebrows. He fell instantly but did not die. Instead, his body twitched violently until it was stepped on by his more agile brothers. The woman began to run to the right, trying to maneuver around the pack of beastly men. They followed her proving to be more athletic in nature than she thought. She turned frequently to fire more arrows, hitting all the major organs with precision but most of them did not fall like normal humans would. Soon she found herself to be out of ammo and had nothing to defend herself with other than speed and know how.

She was no match for a couple of them. As she climbed up a tree, a few jumped up and slashed her torso at the left side and gashed up her legs like a warm knife through butter. Blood quickly flowed from these wounds, but they did not stop her. The beast could jump high, but they could not climb well. It seemed they were also needing food and didn't have enough energy to climb. Given their claws, they very well should have been able to-- given a normal circumstance. She quickly pulled herself up to the top from pure adrenaline. She's never been in this situation before. Even a bear would die from her accuracy. This did not make sense in the natural world. She wasn't even sure if she was in the natural world anymore.

The ravened hunter went into her pouch to pull out her bandage. It was long enough to wrap around her torso a few times. She tied it tightly to hold everything in just in case. She ripped off a portion of her undersleeves of her tunic to wrap around her legs where she could. It wasn't enough to stop everything completely, but enough to slow it down until she could find help. She was bleeding at an astronomical rate. It's as if the men had known where all over her major veins in her legs were and targeted them with trained expertise.

The beasts stayed around the base, snarling and circling around for a while. A few of them attempted to jump up into the tree but could not reach the branch that she was on. She was safe for the time being and could not find herself to fall asleep any time soon. The sun had already set. Their yellow eyes looked up at her hungrily in reflection to the moon.

Several yards away she heard a rustle in the bushed. The men all turned their heads in unison and began to run towards the sound. A deer. It had to be. Of course it was. She couldn't believe her luck and chuckled to herself. Maybe she had followed the map incorrectly. Maybe the beartraps weren't good enough.

She gave it several moments before painfully lowering herself down to the floor. She was lightheaded from blood loss and felt clammy. An infection. She was amid a terrible fever from a wound she wasn't able to clean on time. Who knows what was under their feral claws and what bacteria was hiding in their saliva. Either way, the mighty huntress was defeated for the first and possibly last time. No fate could be sadder than this.

She carefully reached over and pulled out a half-shredded map from her satchel.

"Water..." She sighed. "At least there is water..."

She began to walk quietly and carefully north and away from the beast den.

The soothing sound of calm moving water could be heard not too far off.

A lake.

She collapsed in front of it, feeling the damp dirt from the cool liquid. She crawled on her injured torso, dizzy and lightheaded, and felt the water under her body. It was invigorating to her senses but made her feel even more sleepy than before. The water was almost too comforting for the moment. The moon was lighting the sky like a beacon home, shining all the secrets under her, bringing everything to the surface. Blood slowly pooled into the lake, taking her life force a little at a time. And from there, under the reflection of the sacred moon, came a reflection that caused her to chuckle weakly.

"Of course..." She grinned, coughing a little bit of blood from her internal injuries. "There's all of my fucking fish..." She laughed to herself. "I can't believe it."

She heard a creaking sound coming from the left side as she watched the marine life swim around in front of her. Their scales bouncing light from the glowing orb above to flicker and dance on top of the subtle waves. The ripples could have mesmerized her.

She turned her head to face the sound, picking it up weakly and slapping it back onto the water with an audible thump. The woman was barely able to lift it at all.

"Did you find the food you were looking for?" The Duke inquired, no cigar in hand.

Her face turned sour as she sighed. "You son of a bitch," she mumbled with a wheeze.

He laughed at her comment. "Don't worry, your hunt isn't over yet."

"Like hell it's not," she began to gasp on the water entering her mouth. "I'm dead."

"Ah," he nodded his head. "Dying is not dead, though. Not yet. You still need to eat."

She closed her eyes in defeat. "If I had another arrow, I would make you eat it instead."

"Oh, come on now. We are friends, aren't we?" He folded his hands together, tapping his fingers in thought as if he was planning something much darker for her instead of death.

She didn't reply to him. Instead, she watched him as he continued to touch his fingers.

When he felt satisfied enough watching her gasp on water like a fish, he leaned forward in front of his cart. It squealed like an echo in a forgotten forest. The sound of it rang through her ears, drowning out anything else. She felt so tired. So exhausted from lack of food on top of her horrific injuries. She must have looked so pathetic laying there as the shore beckoned to take her to a watery grave. She felt like she might as well just crawl into the lake herself and float away until she was nothing. Just a piece of dead driftwood, bobbing along to feed the fish that once fed her.

"Come now... There, there... We still had a deal," the Duke stated jovially. "I honor my deals. You know this, child. We have always done well for each other."

He reached out an arm and opened his right hand.

The woman tried to lift her own arm to touch him but could only shrug her shoulder in response. Her breathing was laborious; her vision was nearly blurry. She was unable to move, unable to do anything to help herself.

"This is me making good on my deal," he spoke almost sadly. 

She had a feeling that he knew what was going to happen to her. That this was all some sort of sick plan. She doesn't know what will happen next, but she knows that she will be in his hands. In a weird way, she felt at peace with that. He was the only other person she had known for the last 12 years. Why did she feel like this was goodbye to life as she knew it? No matter the fact, she had to trust him. She upheld her end of the bargain. She had even thrown in an extra trap for the Lady. It was now his turn, even though he had gotten her into this situation. She just wanted the pain to stop.

"I do.. You know," he spoke softly to the woman in agony.

She could only respond in a curious grunt.

"Care for you," he said. "And I am sorry, but this winter is going to be un-survivable, even for you. Please know I am choosing you for this project personally for your own good. There is no one better I would have for this part to play. I bargained for you." He smiled faintly at her.

With his thumb and middle finger together, he produced a snap of tremendous frequency.

A soundwave washed over her and the forest around them. The water no longer choked her as it came and went. It didn't even move at all. The ground was now the same temperature she was. It soothed her, nearly like a hug from her mother when she was young. Her thoughts drifted back to her parents. The smell of fresh stew, the noises of the bustling village, the sound of the church bell, and a cool breeze sweeping through the windows to wrestle its way in through the curtains.

She wished she had been able to say goodbye to them.

They will never get another letter. They will never find her body.

She felt at peace, fully, for the first time in her life. Accepting what was. What is.

There was no pain. No fear. There was nothing.

The last words she heard were "sweet dreams" before her eyes shut for what she believed was for the last time. And perhaps it wasn't going to be after all according to his words.

There had to be more for her.

He made a deal.

He promised her.

He had to.