Page 3 of The Abandoned Princess

Despite the continued sounds of pursuit, I managed to stay just ahead of my attacker, weaving between the trees. When a particularly tight knot of trees appeared, I headed straight for it, diving into the middle. Slim as I was, I could still barely squeeze through, my dress catching on the final trunk. I ripped the material free and threw myself back into full flight. With any luck, my pursers would mindlessly follow me and find themselves stuck between the close trees. By the time they realized their mistake and circled back around, I would have finally gained some ground.

The trees in front of me began to thin, and I somehow produced an extra burst of speed, launching into the sunlight of a tilled field. I finally risked a glance over my shoulder as I hit the open ground. My ploy seemed to have succeeded in delaying my pursuers because no one was in sight yet.

I slowed slightly as I looked wildly around for anywhere I might conceal myself. Only one option appeared.

A farmer, blithely unaware of the struggle going on among the trees, was walking some distance away. He had his back to me, moving away from the trees, and was guiding a horse pulling an open wagon full of straw. I had no idea where he was going with it, but his slow pace gave me a chance to catch up.

I returned to full speed, expecting my approach to catch his attention. The man must have either been half deaf or very distracted, however, because he gave no sign of hearing me behind him.

As I reached the back of the wagon, I looked toward the trees once more. The tilled dirt behind me was still clear.

Making a split-second decision, I took a flying leap into the back of the wagon. I nearly didn’t make it, clinging to the back of the wagon with both hands, my legs dangling behind me and dragging against the dirt. But with a heave from my wiry muscles, I scrambled up and over the wooden barrier.

Landing face first in the heaped straw, I squirmed forward, trying to bury myself out of sight among the scratchy strands. I had made it halfway to the back of the wagon when it dipped slightly, as if someone else was climbing on board. I squirmed harder, unsure what else to do, but a hand grabbed one of my ankles, pulling me to a stop.

I let myself go slack, allowing them to pull me toward them before suddenly planting both hands and kicking hard with my free leg. I was only guessing at the location of my attacker’s head, but my boot collided with something solid. A sickening crunch sounded as the hand holding my ankle let go. Drawing a gasping sob, I pushed my way forward through the straw until my hands hit the wood at the front of the wagon.

I groped my way along it until I reached a corner. Curling myself into it, I sat huddled over, my arms wrapped around my knees. I was trembling uncontrollably, my eyes squeezed shut. My attacker was still in the wagon, and there was nowhere else to run. But I couldn’t hear the sound of anyone moving through the straw.

The memory of my foot colliding with a skull made me shudder. Surely I couldn’t have killed him with a single kick to the head? Was he perhaps unconscious, lying hidden in the straw on the other side of the wagon?

For several minutes, I debated leaping up and jumping from the wagon. If he really was unconscious, I should take the opportunity to escape.

But I couldn’t bring myself to move. The energy that had filled me before had vanished, replaced with the shaking that I still couldn’t suppress. And besides, there had been more than one person after me. The rest might even now be lurking behind the wagon, waiting for me to appear.

But as we lumbered on further with no disturbance, the image became harder and harder to maintain. Was it just me and the one pursuer left? And was he even alive?

Slowly, my shudders subsided, eventually stilling completely. My courage rose to take its place. I needed to investigate and find out what was happening.

Shifting to my knees, I rose out of the straw. As soon as my head was free, I paused and looked around. Somehow, the farmer was still oblivious, still plodding along by his horse’s head.

I gazed across the field behind us, but there was no one in sight. It really was just me and whoever was in the wagon with me. Gathering my courage even further, I looked around the wagon bed itself.

My eyes immediately met those of someone sitting on the far side of the wagon, watching me. But it wasn’t the eyes of my original attacker.

It was Lori.

I gasped aloud, but when I went to say her name, she shook her head, sending a warning glance at the back of the farmer’s head. My eyes narrowed, but I remained silent, scrambling inelegantly across the heaped straw toward her.

When I got close enough to see the bruise already starting to bloom from under her hair, I winced.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered when I reached her. “I didn’t know it was you.”

She waved dismissively, pulling me down to sit beside her.

“He seems to be hard of hearing,” she murmured, nodding toward the farmer. “And I’d prefer to stay out of his notice if we possibly can.”

“Why?” I regarded the back of his head with a creased brow. “Do you think he’s a threat?”

She shook her head. “Unlikely. But if he doesn’t know we’re here, he can’t report our presence to anyone later.”

I frowned. “But shouldn’t we be trying to get back? We need to help the others!”

Lori sighed. “It’s too late for that.”

“Too late!” I cried, almost forgetting to keep my voice low. “What do you mean? They can’t possibly all—”

“I saw a couple of the girls escaping on that pesky horse,” she said. “And the others may well have fled also. I was focused on following you.”

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