Down the Rabbit Hole

Shuddering, Beth turned her attention to the great stag. But as she reached for the arrow protruding from its side, powerful hooves flailed at her hand, barely missing her flesh.

She watched as the animal’s breath came in short bursts, indicating the amount of pain even that effort cost.

“You have to let me remove that arrow, or you’ll surely bleed to death.”

The stag turned to her with a look of terror.

“I know you mistrust humans. Especially now that one has caused you such pain. But you have to trust me. I’m here to help you.”

While she kept her voice soft, she ran a hand along the creature’s sleek hide and felt a quiver, and another low rumble deep in its throat. A warning to retreat? Or an admission of its fear?

“In order to help you, I’ll be forced to inflict a little more pain as I withdraw the arrow. But then, if you’ll let me, I’ll bind your wounds and stay with you until you’re able to find your way home.” She touched a hand to the animal’s head and stared into the pain-filled eyes. “Please let me help.”

As she spoke she took hold of the shaft of the arrow and pulled it free in one quick motion.

The stag gave a howl of pain that could be heard echoing and re-echoing across the Highlands, sending chills along the spine of every man, woman, and child who heard it in the villages below.

“I’m sorry, my love. I can’t bear the thought of causing you any more pain than you’ve already experienced.”

Beth tore the hem of her gown into strips, which she wrapped tightly around the animal’s hide until they were drenched with blood. When she was finished, her hands, her body, even the ends of her hair were soaked with the creature’s blood.

“If I could, I’d take away your pain. But all I can do now is hope that you’re strong enough to recover from this horrible wound.” Beth wrapped her arms around the animal’s neck and pressed her mouth to its ear. “Try to sleep, love. To heal. And we’ll hope that in the morning, you’re strong enough to find your way home.”

There was another growl, softer now, as the big stag trembled.

Exhausted from the climb and the emotional toll of her efforts, Beth huddled against the great beast, tucking the edges of her cloak around him, and fell into a deep sleep.


*

The storm had blown over, leaving a fine mist falling from a sky tinged with dawn light. Beth awoke with a start. Instead of the great stag she’d been holding when she fell asleep, she looked down into the face of her beloved Colin.

“You’re alive.”

He made a slight movement, struggling to grasp her hand. “Nay, love. I am dying.”

“But you’ve broken the curse. You’ve survived the night. You can’t die, Colin. Please stay with me.” His hands, she realized, were as cold as ice. His flesh was as pale as the snowcaps that dotted the peaks of the Highlands. “I can’t bear to live without you. There has to be something I can do.”

“It is too late to stop the curse. In order to fulfill Darda’s promise, I must die. But there is a way to thwart her.”

“How? Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

His gaze was fixed on her. “You have already done it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Love, Bethany. Love is stronger than hate. A pure heart is stronger than any curse. If you love me, truly love me, you must know that I’ll never leave you.”

“But you said you’re dying.”

“I am. I must. But that does not mean I’ll ever leave you, love.”

“You’re not making any sense. You’re dying, and you say you’ll never leave me?”

“I give you my word, my beloved Bethany. I will always be with you. And one day, I promise you, your grief will turn to joy.”