The Woodcutter

The WoodcutterShe woke in a dim room, surrounded by warmth and softness, the soft crackle of a fire.A cabin. Lily sat up—then hissed in pain and slumped back down, one hand going to her ribcage.Her hand was bandaged. Most of the arm. So was her chest. Must have cracked her ribs or something. Ah, the curse of small breasts. If she’d had large breasts, like Penelope or Clarissa, she’d have simply bounced off what she’d hit and been nothing more than bruised.Shaking her head slightly at her absurd thoughts, she braced herself and sat up slowly, carefully, gritting her teeth against each sharp pain.When she was as comfortably upright as she could get, nestled against a pile of pillows that smelled like woodsmoke and cinnamon, she gave the cabin a good look over. A fireplace took up most of the farthest wall, one of those big ones meant for essentially running the home: warmth, cooking, heating water for other chores. Lily had never been in a home like this, but she’d seen pictures and read extensively.There were rugs across the floor, made of what looked like scraps of cloth, and more of the same hung over the windows that framed the door that likely led out of the cabin. There was another door to the right of the fireplace. Bedroom? Larder? Workroom?Herbs and dried fruit hung from the rafters, and the left side of the fireplace was filled with cupboards and drawers, likely to store dry goods and the like. The bed she was in was exactly opposite the fireplace; the only other furniture was a sturdy chair by the fireplace and a table pushed up against the wall with a bench for seating. The walls were covered with all manner of tools, from weapons to traps to crafting and cooking equipment.There wasn’t so much as a painting to give the place a spark of life, though the quilt she was under was pretty and meticulously made.Where was she? How had she gotten here?She had a hazy memory of voices in the forest, but that could have been a dream for all she knew. Well, delusion was probably more like it, given how much her head was starting to hurt. She hadn’t hit her head, though, had she? She remembered running into something… had she struck her head in the landing?On a more positive note, maybe this meant she’d lost her pursuers. Surely they wouldn’t be able to find her now. Or maybe they would be able to, and she should leave before she put her unseen rescuer at risk. That would absolutely be the right thing to do, though it pained her not to linger and give proper thanks for the life saving help. For the life saving, end sentence.She’d just started to shove away the beautiful quilt when she recalled a vital flaw in her plan, mostly because just twitching them reminded her forcefully: her feet. They’d been bloody and throbbing, so badly it shot up her legs. She wasn’t going anywhere until her feet healed sufficiently.Lily pinched her eyes shut. This wasn’t fair. She needed to be home. She needed to be helping her people. Stabbing Ferdinand right in his stupid face.But not fair was the thinking of a child and wouldn’t help anything.She stared at her hands. One had been bandaged, so she must have hurt it in all her running and flailing. The other was scratched and bruised, leaving her brown skin mottled with lurid purples and blues and blacks. They were likely from smacking branches and such in her haste. Her nails, so meticulously painted in a soft pink, pretty but properly neutral, were broken and ragged, the paint chipped in some places, somehow completely gone in others. One nail had torn to the quick, leaving the finger throbbing.Gods, she must look a fright. Like a hooligan, not a crown princess.Not a queen.Lily closed her eyes more tightly, pressing her balled up hands to her temples, desperately trying to will away the memory of her father being shot. Bleeding out in front of her. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.Had any of her friends survived? Or had they been cut down by those despicable Black Wolves? Lily would round them up and hang them, the bastards. She’d make Ferdinand watch and then stab him in the face.First, though, she needed to heal. She couldn’t do anything else until she could walk properly.The door opened, bringing in the smell of earth and recent rain—and a tall, broad woman who looked like she spent more time with bears or wolves than people. At that, she probably did, living all the way out in the middle of nowhere."You’re awake," the woman said, shrugging off the fur draped over her shoulders and hanging it on a hook by the door, along with an axe and other items. "How do you feel?""My feet and ribs hurt, but that’s to be expected. Thank you for saving me, Mistress…?""Scout. Just Scout. Ain’t nobody’s mistress," Scout said brusquely. "Who are you, then?"Lily started to reply, then froze. Giving her real name would be the height of stupidity. "Aubrey. Brey, if you prefer." That was her middle name, and common enough. "Where am I?"Grunting, Scout moved further into the cabin, setting down what appeared to be some recently killed hares before going to stoke the fire. She was a handsome woman, broad and solid like an oak tree. Her skin was white, but heavily tanned, which made sense. Her hair was cut as short as any man’s, barely long enough to get a grip on, though what a strange and errant thought that was. Lily couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but they were probably brown or something equally as rustic and woodsy as the rest of her. "You’re in the Laughing Forest, girl. Right near the heart of it. What foolishness brought you out here to nearly get yourself killed?""Foolishness?" Lily said, bristling. "You act like I want to be here, like I chose to be chased down by a bunch of nasty, cretinous wolves after they—they attacked the royal palace and all of us had to run for our lives."Scout turned sharply, her eyes almost seeming to flare with blue light for a moment, but that made no sense. It must be some strange trick of the light. "What do you mean, wolves? A pack of wolves?""A pack of men," Lily replied bitterly. "They’re called the Black Wolves. Murdered the king, other people. I was there when it happened, and ran before they could kill me too." There. That was close to the truth, so she didn’t have to keep track of lies, without revealing anything about herself that would put her in danger."That’s quite the tale," Scout replied.Lily drew herself up, shoulders back, chin up, ignoring all the pain that screamed in protest of her movements. "It’s not a tale.""We’ll see." Rolling up her sleeves, Scout retrieved the rabbits and vanished through the door next to the fireplace.Of all the nerve.Forget this. She didn’t need to stay here and be treated like some liar. Why would she lie about something like that? What would she possibly gain from making up such a wild, easily disproven tale? Her father was dead and this— this— this arrogant little huntsman or whatever she was thought she was lying.Sniffling, hands shaking, Lily pushed away the stupid, ugly quilt she was sick of looking at anyway and slid from the bed.She bit back a scream as she put her weight on her feet. It was like walking on hot nails.Better than being dead. Better than being here one minute longer. Hobbling-stumbling across the room, using the foot of the bed for support as long as she could, she reached the door and pulled it open—and nearly fell right on her ass as she hit a particularly painful spot on her right foot.She bit her cheek so hard against crying out she tasted blood. Well, what was one more injury?"What in the gods’ names do you think you’re doing?"Righting herself as best she could, Lily turned around slowly and painfully and replied, "Not staying where I’m not wanted. Certainly not staying where someone thinks I’m a flagrant liar."Scout narrowed her eyes. "So you’re going to, what, go back to bleeding to death in the forest? Become food for wild animals? Surely there is a touch more sense than that in your pretty little head."Lily bristled. "Are you always this rude to your guests?""You’re not a guest, you’re an intrusion," Scout replied, folding her arms across her not inconsiderable chest. She probably wouldn’t have broken ribs running into a tree.Was it really so much to ask that somebody be nice to her? She’d just watched her father get murdered, for crying out loud. "My apologies, Mistress. The next time I’m running for my life, I’ll be certain to be carried away unconscious by someone else." Turning away, sucking in a sharp breath as she hit that really bad spot again, she resumed walking—And jumped as thunder cracked so hard she felt it in her teeth, and the entire cabin rattled. The jump, of course, did nothing for her various pains, which struck all at once, so bright and sharp she sank to the ground, one arm wrapped around her ribs as if that would help, the other still clinging to the open door.Footsteps. A soft sigh. Then surprisingly gentle arms scooped her up and carried her back to the bed, got her settled. "Stay there," Scout said gruffly, then went to shut the door before striding over to the fireplace and swinging a kettle over the flames.Lily watched her work, fussing about the place making tea and doing little chores, while outside the ominous thunder had turned into a driving storm. What if she’d been caught out in this? Lily shuddered.However rude her reluctant host, it was more painfully clear than her stubbornness had wanted to admit that she had no choice but to stay. At least until she could walk again. Then even the wind wouldn’t move as quickly as she would fleeing this dreary cabin.She stared at her hands again, the smatter of bruises, cuts that would scar. Not the hands of a lady. Of a queen. The hands of someone still alive, though.The sound of footsteps jerked her head up, and she watched, not without trepidation, as Scout approached her with a small tray bearing tea and something that smelled like meat and barley. "Eat, you’ll need your strength before you can go flouncing off into woods that have killed men three times your size in less than five minutes." There was the barest hint of curve to her mouth as she spoke. Teasing, she was teasing Lily.Picking up the tea, Lily replied, "I don’t think it counts as flouncing when I couldn’t even stay upright."Scout laughed. "It was a valiant attempt, milady. Eat up, get some more rest. I’m going to go butcher those hares. Yell if you need something.""Thank you," Lily said. "I really do appreciate your help.""Eat," Scout repeated, and vanished through the door by the fireplace.Lily sighed and dutifully ate. The tea was black, with a nutty undertone she really liked, so different from the light, flowery teas she drank all day at court. The soup was good too, a barley stew with what might be venison, lots of vegetables. Nothing like the bisques and broths she was used to, but warm and hearty, no doubt perfect for the hard life that came with living in the middle of a forest.Memories flickered again. Two… men? Had there been two men? Had she imagined them?The soldiers… There’d been two of them, facing off against the Wolves alone, the last defense she’d had. Probably dead too. What was it the one had told her?The ruins. She was to get to the ruins. What ruins? Lily had lived here all her life, and she’d never heard a peep about ruins in the forest.Setting the tray aside, she slowly settled down in the bed again, sleep hitting her like a fist. Or a tree limb to the ribs, maybe. Nope, wasn’t funny yet.That faint cinnamon smell wafted up again from the pillows. Was it from Scout? How had she gotten such a strange na…