Chapter 6

W hen I awoke, the sun breached high in the sky and the nighttime frost had melted in droplets from the branches above. Crawling out from our makeshift den, Arcturas and I stretched the sleep from our limbs and continued on our journey. A mourning dove cried in the distance as we trudged through the damp forest. The ache of my empty stomach and burn of my throat was a reminder that I hadn't had a meal since the morning before last.

Arcturas sniffed at my boot, urging me to follow, and trailed through the thick, misty morning. The wolf pup led me to a clearing full of deep brown undergrowth. She curled around trees and tucked under branches with heavy, fresh snowfall. A small stream meandered through a bramble covered embankment and fluorescent fish bubbled against its gentle current. Winter birds cooed and squawked from the bare, slender branches of colossal pines that lined the glade. Sunlight from the late morning sky beamed through the tree canopy in spurts of crisp, cool light.

I scrambled to the stream and dropped to my knees, frantically gulping down palmfuls. Desperation overpowered the frigid burn of the icy water sliding down my throat. Gasping for air and finally quenched of my thirst, I sat back on my heels and let the wintry sun radiate across my cheeks. I hadn't experienced the world like this in so long I'd nearly forgotten it. She was an old friend that'd lost touch. A chorus of winter finches sang a peaceful melody that ebbed and flowed around me, raising the hairs across my forearms.

I couldn't suppress the visions of my father on our frosty morning hunts. How he'd guide my bow to our prey with steady hands. Hands that swallowed up my little mittened fingers around the bowstring.

"Take a deep breath. Let the energy of the bow string connect through your fingertips. Feel it deep in your heart," he whispered.

My boots melted into the snow, rooting into the frozen earth below. When I was ready to let my arrow fly, it hit the mark straight on.

Narrow beams of sunlight washed over me as I lost myself in time. I was finding a version of myself I used to know. A version of my father I loved the most, whose patience and gentle strength could fill even the deepest of voids within me. I wanted to stay there forever, just him and me, in that peaceful time when my mind was whole and my head was filled with hopes and dreams.

Arcturas moved to sit next to me and lapped at the stream. I'm not sure how long I sat letting the sunlight bask against my brow, but when I finally opened my eyes, warm tears streaked my cheeks and my lips had curled into a peaceful grin. The chill of the night melted with each beam of light, taking the image of those demonic eyes with it. The earthy, sweet taste of freedom splashed across my tongue as a small piece of my old self ignited beneath my surface.

A patch of chokeberries poked through the freshly powdered snow of last night's storm. Wiping my knees, I plucked a handful of its black, beady berries and tossed them in my mouth. The tart plum-colored juice stained my fingers as I continued to feast until the entire bush was nearly bare. Berries alone wouldn't sustain me forever, but the ache in my stomach had dulled enough for me to think more clearly. Arcturas nipped at my heel as if reminding me that wolves can't live off of chokeberries either.

"You're probably hungry too, little one. I'll try to catch us some fish. Don't wander off too far," I said, bending over to unlace my boots. Sliding my feet out and pulling the hem of my shift above my knees, I waded into the glacial stream. My toes instantly numbed from the icy current whirling around my feet. I forced my shaking limbs still while I waited for the iridescent trout to slip between my ankles.

A lone fish paddled by my curled toes and I struck. Grasping for the fish with my outstretched hands, I snapped for its slithering body. The scaled creature slipped right through my fist. After three failed attempts and many loud curses, I finally caught one- only a few inches in length.

Tossing the fish to Arcturas, I began my hunt again while she tore into the scaly flesh. When I finally lost feeling below both of my knees, I had four small fish to roast. I cleaned and gutted them near the shore, then started off to find some kindling for a fire. Being in the wild like this felt natural. It brought ease to my broken mind. As a child, every once in a while my father and I would sneak through a hole in the city walls to spend the day together. He taught me everything I knew about survival.

When I was eight, he gave me my first dagger. When I was ten, he gave me a bow. I'd spend hours in the courtyard, practicing my aim at apples stolen from the castle stores. I was determined to be the best, hoping that he'd notice my skills. After months of practice, my arms exhausted and sore from long days of practice, I could hit every apple in the courtyard.

One day, my mother and sister were searching for winter mice when my aim struck true. Neither one cared to even glance my way, but my father clapped his hand on my shoulder with a big bushy grin as he applauded the hard work. His pride was all I ever needed. With him by my side, I couldn't care less about my sister and the Queen.

As I began throwing twigs and sticks I'd scavenged into a pile, Arcturas sprinted to the heap and pulled one out to play with. She shook the twig about as if it were the scruff of her prey, until the wood snapped beneath the pressure of her fangs. When it became too small for her to pick up, she moved on to another, leaving only wooden shards.

Dusk appeared, and I hastily built my fire. The moon not only brought blinding darkness, but it also brought a deathly cold. Clumping the kindling beneath a stack of twigs, I flicked my dinner knife against the piece of flint I'd found beneath a patch of thick brambles. Embers shot at the kindling and fizzled on impact. It took a few tries before the grass lit, but when it finally did, I tossed the rock to the side and leaned in close to feed oxygen into the weak flame. Once the fire radiated enough heat and light, I skewered the fish filets with the remaining twigs and roasted them above the flames. Mouth watering, I rotated the meat for an even cook.

The aroma of cooked fish wafted around us as I tossed Arcturas two of the skewers. With sharp, predatory teeth, she devoured the meat in seconds. Ripping pieces off my own skewers, I savored each warm bite. In the tower they had served me tasteless sludge and stale bread. Not a single southern spiced chicken or ale stewed beef compared to the delicate flavor now swirling around my tastebuds. The flakes of fish, spiced with fresh night air and smoky pine, melted on my tongue.

Arcturas tucked her oversized paws beneath her and peacefully dozed off, letting the heat from the fire warm her exposed, full belly. Wiping the grease from my fingertips on my stained, ratty shift, I pulled the flaps of my cloak tightly together and closed my eyes too. I kept the fire roaring. If the guards had searched this far for me, they'd assumed the smoke was a hunting camp. It wasn't uncommon for bands of hunters to spend a few nights in these woods.

The unease melted away with the chill of the night. Maybe it was the endless days I'd spent in the woods or the memories I'd made with my father, but the soft rustle of rabbits and the quiet tune of the night birds soothed my racing mind. I closed my eyes, letting the memories flow in again. I fell asleep to the deep chuckle of my father, reliving each fleeting second we'd shared .