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Rated: · Fiction · Other · #1889703
A story for the fantasy contest.
The day had started with the promise of a mind-blowing adventure. Princess Francesca, had been looking forward to it a great deal. For nearly 20 years, she had been forced to stay within the four walls of the castle and under constant supervision of the night-guards, her ladies-in-waiting and most particularly her adoring and annoyingly over-protective parents, King Igor and Queen Lucy. Not that Francesca didn't love her parents, but the fact that they treated her like a fragile piece of crockery irritated her beyond reason. For reason's they would not reveal, she wasn't allowed beyond the border's of the kingdom into the woods surrounding it. What irritated her more was the fact that her brothers, one, even younger than her, had no such restrictions imposed on them.

However, one look at Francesca and any person with an impartial view would agree that the King and Queen had a point. At nearly twenty-one, Francesca was a beauty in her own right. With fair, almost translucent skin, a natural pink tint to her cheeks, wavy brown chestnut hair reaching the middle of her back and a tall and slender frame, not to mention the soothing lilt of her voice, anyone would be convinced that one of the King's worries was definitely a horde of suitors breaking down the castle's doors.

A day away from her 21st birthday, Francesca had enough of the pampering and coddling. Like any young adventurous woman, she wanted to get a glimpse of the world outside her world. An opportunity knocked on her door when just a week before, her parents decided to visit the neighboring kingdom of Eden-glade. While her parents refused to tell her the reason just as yet, Francesca heard enough from the constant whispering among her ladies-in-waiting. They were looking for a suitor, and they considered the young prince of Eden-Glade a perfect match.

Well, let them do what they like. They can't force a wedding ring on my finger without my consent., thought Francesca smugly. As long as they are gone for a few days, I can go through with my plan. Even if I do get married, I will ensure I have lived my life fully before that.

So exactly 24 hours before her birthday, Francesca went through with her plan. With a handful of lies about going round the kingdom for a stroll, Francesca gave the slip to her ladies-in-waiting. She crossed the busy market area which was a bustle of activity at this time of the evening, and managed to lose herself in the crowd. Then, in the guise of an old lady, managed to slip past the guards at the borders of the kingdom.Not until she had reached the edge of the woods did she breathe freely.

Francesca listened with amazement at the susurrus of the trees and the singing of the night lark. She stepped out of her disguise and feeling true freedom for the first time in her life, walked right into the woods.

However, the joy of finally being on her own, that had engulfed her as she set out, was ephemeral. As the sun set and the singing of the night lark was replaced by a eerie silence except for the occasional owl hoots, Francesca felt a deep sense of foreboding. She had been expecting a serene and peaceful night with the sound of the gurgling of streams and the bright stars shining down on her. Not only were there no streams or brooks in this part of the wood, but the canopy of trees overhead was so thick that she could not have seen the stars, even if they had been there. She had wished for a full moon tonight hoping it would light her path, but all that the moon did was cast creepy shadows of the trees of the forest's ferny floor. She repeatedly kept clutching the hilt of the iron dagger hanging at her waist, hoping there would be no need to use it.

"I should be headed back", said Francesca quietly to herself and turned around, but the direction she faced was unrecognizable. She took a 360 degree turn and still no signs of familiarity jumped out at her. She was lost.

Francesca may have been stupid for entering the wood without a map or without leaving a trail, but she was also incredibly brave and convinced herself that if she could just find a place to rest for the night, the morning would bring back with it, her sense of direction. As she curled up in a fetal position on the ground on a blanket of lichen, she heard a rustling sound a few feet away from her and sat up with a start. Pressing herself against a tall tree stump, heart beating fast, she prayed fervently for the sound to be caused by a rabbit or a small raccoon and not a panther, which was rumored to be common in these parts.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw something move. Looking directly in the direction of the movement, her heart, which had been racing till that moment, thudded down to her feet. She was staring into the eyes of a creature so fearsome and deadly, she or anyone else for that matter did not believe it existed. Francesca knew she was fighting a losing battle but the adrenaline coursing through her veins jolted her to her feet, and without looking back once, ran in the opposite direction.

It was no good of course. She barely managed 10 feet before she felt claws cutting at her waist, torrid breath on her neck, her feet losing contact with the mossy floor and then everything went black.


*************


The first thing Francesca felt when she regained consciousness was the the hard cement floor beneath her back. With a shock, she realized, she had been stripped of her cloak and she lay there cold and wet in her thin white dress and bare feet. Her earrings, locket and bangles all made of solid gold were no longer on her person and as sensation returned to her limbs, she could feel bloody scratches across her back and waist. Opening her eyes cautiously, she waited for her pupils to get adjusted to the darkness. She was in a grimy underground dungeon. She hadn't known there to be dungeons in the woods but it seemed a fitting lair for the dragon that had brought her here.

"Dragons!", murmured Francesca, still unable to believe it. Brave as she was, she felt her wall of courage developing cracks.



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