It turned out that traveling through a forest in a prison wagon was slow, bone-jarringly uncomfortable and tedious. The sun peeking through the canopy marked an hour passed with nothing to do but listen to pine needles cracking under wheels, and heavy snorting from horses. Every jolt of the wagon resulted in me being thrown bodily about the cage. Grabbing ahold of the bars and bracing my feet against the floor were the only things that stopped me from being smashed to bits against the hard iron. Yet the resulting sickness was unavoidable, and for the first time, I found myself grateful that my stomach lay empty. The thought of sitting in my own vomit for days without reprieve sent a shiver down my spine.
I veered between wanting to reason with Baird and Castiel and screaming myself hoarse, but the will to do either had left me. I decided against begging. It hadn’t worked during the trial; why would it be any different out in the forest? And deep down, I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. This streak of stubbornness had gotten me through years with Elain, so maybe it would see me through this too.
Mindlessness swept in as we went deeper into the forest. I watched the pattern of trees shift, and instead of young pines and silver-barked saplings, there stood ancient oaks and proud, tall firs.
The wagon finally slowed and shuddered to a stop. A splinter of panic cleaved through my senses as Baird jumped down and Castiel unhitched the horses. He didn’t say a word; he only moved to lead the bay Shires back to Tunnock. But Baird stopped and faced me. “We’ll be back in three days.”
There were so many things I could have said. It was my chance to plead for mercy. All I said was, “If I don’t make it, can you tell them to get on with their lives?” I hoped Baird knew who I meant. Saying their names might just break me. “Just make sure they know I love them.”
“I will.” He nodded, perfectly grave. “Good luck, Serena.”
He left, hobbling down the track made wider by the wagon. As the forest swallowed sight of the two men, my pride died enough for me to whisper so that only the wind could hear me say, “Come back.”
I sat rooted to the floor for over an hour, watching the path, willing them to return. When nothing happened, pain pulled me from numbness and plunged me into survival mode. For my lack of movement had caused a brittle stiffness to settle into my limbs, accompanied by a bone-deep cold.
I took stock of my surroundings: spring still hadn’t bloomed in this part of the forest. The minute the sun dipped below the horizon, the temperature would plummet further.
My father had drilled how to survive the cold into me long ago. The basics being eat and drink and if you can’t move, conserve warmth. Given the dimensions of the cell, proper exercise was out of the question. That didn’t stop me from doing light stretching to warm up. Extending my legs to the length of the cage, I flexed.
Point toes, retract. Point toes, retract.
After a few more sets, I moved on to massaging my arms and legs, encouraging blood flow. The tension locking my muscles eased a little, but it wouldn’t be enough to save me when darkness fell.
Fuel was next on my list. I grabbed one of the brown packages containing food and tore into it to find dried oats and nuts. Grimacing, I wolfed down handfuls, not stopping to taste them. It wasn’t filling, but I thought only of rationing my supplies, so I moved on to the water. I picked up a bottle and took two sips. Just enough to quench my thirst.
A few minutes passed as I gathered every available blanket and fur, and arranged them to make a nest of warmth. During this rummage, my numb fingertips came upon a pair of mismatched mittens and a red scarf. I thought of Timothy and smiled. A small act of kindness, and he’d never know how much it meant to me.
I slipped the gloves and scarf on and snuggled into the furs to prepare for a night spent in the freezing cold.
Time slipped into a stream of drip, drip, drip. Sleep proved elusive as the light dimmed. I sighed heavily. Winter still held sway, which meant it was probably only five AN, or After Noon. I had a long night ahead of me. Of course, if I’d been home, I’d have been eating right about now.
My belly rumbled as if in protest. Food plagued my thoughts until twilight passed and night descended. Not wanting to rip into another food parcel, I scrambled for something to occupy my mind with. That soon failed, and boredom set in.
The more I dwelt on my situation, the more absurd it seemed. My impatience ticked up a notch, and when a series of howls echoed through the forest, I came to a decision. Burn the elders—I refused to be their rutting bait.
I threw off the furs and fumbled in the dark for the bars. I pushed against them, testing for any weakness. My father had probably built this cage, so I doubted I’d find any. Still, I had to try.
The iron didn’t yield to my efforts. But I was a blacksmith’s daughter—I knew my best bet lay with the lock. Lying down on the floor of the cell, I put an arm out on either side. I held onto the bars and kicked out. All the blows were intended to bust the lock.
Ten minutes passed and not only were my legs trembling, but my brain felt like it had shaken loose of its skull. I took a breather, resolving to get back to it as soon as my limbs had stopped twitching.
Snap.
Adrenaline flooded my system and my muscles clenched in alarm. I sat up, ears straining, waiting. Another snap filled the air. It sounded like tree branches cracking under foot. The moon was a perfect sphere, hanging low in the sky. It cast an eerie glow over the woodland floor, but not enough to illuminate what, or who, was out there.
My pulse pounded in time to my whispered words: “It’s just an animal. It’s just an animal.”
There was that snap again.
A light blinked in the distance. It moved toward me through the trees, growing brighter every second.
My mouth went dry. I was too deep into the forest for anyone to hear me scream.
“There you are.” A chill scuttled down my spine.
Fear set my pulse screaming; its heavy, frantic beat rang in my ears. I shrank to the back of the cage.
Gus’s face came into view with the help of a lantern. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you? Even a blind man could spot this wagon’s tracks.” He slunk over, dissecting me with a look. As if he were a wolf sure of a slaughter.
Words failed me as the lantern danced within touching distance of the cell.
Fight. Don’t cower like a frightened rabbit. The voice came from inside, and yet it retained such a separateness, that I knew they weren’t my thoughts.
With no time to puzzle out this riddle, I braced myself. “Congratulations,” I mocked; his eyes narrowed to slits. My courage roaring to the surface, I added, “But the only good thing about being locked in this cage is that you can’t get in here with me.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he murmured, and my blood ran cold. “I helped your father build this thing.”
His onyx hair and thin face pitched into shadow as he held the lantern aloft, using it to illuminate the lock. An unmistakable jingle followed. My heart did a feeble flip-flop of dread as he raised a bronze key.
“This cage is Halvard’s design; we still have the mold in the forge.” His eyes lit up with his characteristic taunting style, intermingled with fury. But with Gus, his rage never presented like passion. There was nothing inflamed behind it, only a detached, steely wrath that came from nowhere. Somehow, he’d always felt more dangerous because of it.
The scrape of the key’s metal against the lock had my nerve endings on fire. “Did you know we have orders for two more of these cages? It’s been a nightmare trying to keep up with the work; I often wonder whether it was worth helping Elain kill Hal.”