The Healer’s Apprentice

By the time Rose topped the hill, her headache was worse and her neck had begun to feel stiff and sore. Should she turn back? First she would make it to the stream for a drink. Wolfie bounded far ahead of her. She lost sight of him before she entered the forest.

 

She sank to her knees by the stream bank and dipped her hand in, drawing the water to her lips. When she swayed and nearly fell face first into the trickling brook, she sat back on her heels, rubbing her forehead with her wet hand.

 

Something was wrong.

 

“Wolfie!” she called. She slowly got to her feet. Her head ached worse than ever, and she put her hands against her temples. When she tried to turn her head to look for the dog, she gasped in pain.

 

Confusion threw a fog over her thoughts as she turned in a circle. Was she looking for Wolfie? She couldn’t remember. She wanted to go home but wasn’t sure if she lived in town or in the forest.

 

Wolfie broke through the underbrush and tromped toward her.

 

“Wolfie, we have to go home.” Rose started off through the trees. She stretched her arms out in her effort to not look down or move her head.

 

Soon she came to the small clearing where her parents’ cottage stood. The door hung open. She wandered inside. Perhaps her mother had some soup she could sip. Her throat was feeling sore.

 

“Mama?”

 

She looked around. No one was there. Leaves swirled around the dirt floor, and no fire burned.

 

“Mama? Agathe? Dorothye?” Where was everyone? Where was her bed? It wasn’t very cold today but still, there should have been a cook fire.

 

A vague memory stirred in her foggy mind, of a castle, and of a house in town. O God, there’s something wrong with my head. I can’t think. She sank down on the dirt floor. Unable to hold up her head another minute, she lay full length, moaning at the pain in her neck.

 

Wolfie licked her cheek. Rose weakly brushed him away. The dog stretched out beside her, whimpering in his high-pitched dog’s voice.

 

“It’s all right, Wolfie. I’ll lie here until I feel better.”

 

Rose shut her eyes and darkness closed over her.

 

 

 

 

 

Wilhelm stared out the window of the Great Hall that faced the courtyard. The sky had been darkening all afternoon. Though the morning had been warm, a frigid wind had moved in around noon, bringing colder air and even freezing rain. Ice now covered the ground, turning it silver. He didn’t envy anyone caught out in this weather.

 

“Lord Hamlin.”

 

He turned and was surprised to see Frau Geruscha hurrying toward him. Her forehead was creased with anxiety and desperation shaded her eyes.

 

“Yes, Frau Geruscha?”

 

“It’s Rose.”

 

His body tensed as he waited for her to catch her breath.

 

“I don’t know where she is. She left this morning to go for a walk and hasn’t returned.”

 

Fear stabbed his heart. His gaze darted to the window. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”

 

“No.” Frau Geruscha clasped her hands together. “And now it’s sleeting. I sent a messenger to her parents’ home, but they haven’t seen her. I’m so worried. She was upset this morning, but I don’t think she would run away. You don’t suppose Peter Brunckhorst—or Moncore…?”

 

“I’ll find her.” He spun around and barked to a servant, “Get Christoff and Georg. Bring them to the stable and tell them to wait for me.” He turned back to Geruscha. The fear in her eyes sent a wave of blood pulsing through his body. “I have an idea where to look. If she isn’t there, I’ll come back for my knights and we’ll search for her until we find her.”

 

He took time only to grab two woolen cloaks then ran to the stable.

 

Instead of waiting for the stable boy to help him saddle Shadow, he grabbed the gear himself and readied his horse to ride. He threw one of the cloaks around his shoulders and tucked the other one under his arm. Swinging himself into the saddle, he set out, urging Shadow into his fastest gallop. He prayed for protection for Shadow’s legs. Don’t let him slip on the ice.

 

His heart pounded in rhythm with the horse’s hooves. O God, please help me find her. Please keep her safe. Show me where to look. If Peter Brunckhorst or Moncore had her…He couldn’t let himself think about that yet. He had a feeling he knew where she was, almost as if God had whispered it in his ear.

 

The icy rain pelted his face and hands like a thousand tiny pinpricks. His body heat warmed the extra cloak that was tucked against his side. He hoped he would soon be able to wrap it around Rose.

 

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