Sila and the Dragons

Chapter One: The Getaway

The cornstalks were tall and ticklish against their legs as they hopped over the gate--the boy first, then helping the girl, who looked surprised but took his hand anyway. He grinned. "Good idea...this way...they'll never be able to see us."

Sila ran, giggling, through the fields, brushing the top of the cornstalks with her open palms. There wasn't a single thing in the sky but the occassional dark wisp of a swooping bird and the glaring Sun she could not glare back at.

Woomph. Sila had the breath knocked out of her and her whole vision shunted sideways as the boy knocked into her from behind and pushed them both over. Instinctively the girl grabbed his arm and positioned it so that it took most of her fall.

The boy yowled in pain but then guffawed as if Sila had told the funniest joke. She tried to give a laugh through the windedness but it was painful. "Er..great."

He didn't take his hand away. Sila thought it must be very painful, supporting all her weight like that. "I would have done that anyway, you know." His eyes has started to water. "What?"
"Broken your fall." He tried to give a winning smile, but it looked much more like a grimace. "I think you're very pretty, you know." The tiny muscle on his arm was shaking now.

As he leant towards her, Sila's fingers finally untied the knot that was securing a little bag to his belt, and pulled it free. "Well, thanks for lunch!" She pulled her knee up, hard, and rolled over, freeing his hand so that it could attend to more immediate matters. "You--!" and he let out a slew of names Sila had never heard before.

Sila laughed. "Yes I agree, you're quite the gentleman! And you don't even know what I got, do you?" He looked up between groans; she was dangling the little black velvet bag. "Rgh?!!" He tried to get up, at the same time reaching for the dagger in his belt, but evidently this was too painful and evidently--

Sila gave a guilty chuckle. "O yeh sorry, forgot about that.." She took it out now, lazily, because he wasn't much of a threat. The boy made no more attempts to move. He simply stared, horrified. "Who are you?!"

Sila laughed loudly. "Me, I'm one of a kind, mate. And right now I'd have to say I was your worst nightmare, wouldn't you agree?" And she whacked the bag over his head so that he slumped to the ground, unconcious.

*

And Sila ran out of the cornfield and into the shelter of the trees, the money jangling happily by her waist, the black cloak warm and sleek, billowing impressively in her slipstream like large, leathery wings...and she ran, leaping and diving and occasionally tripping, but she did not care: she was free. The blood-red Sun flashed intermittently through the web of heavy boughs as it dripped steadily into the crimson horizon.

Snatch what you can and never look back.

That's what a thief had told her, Baker Bill his name was, or so he said, and he'd nicked a man's purse right infront of her. He was filthy rich. He said he was part of the Three Thieve's Guild and that he was legendary.

Sila liked thieves because they taught her useful things and they entertained. You knew where you stood with a thief.

And she'd got him drunk and nicked the purse right back out of his pocket. And never looked back.

And now she'd stolen from the easy-boy and she would never look back. She knew without counting that she had more money attached to her side than she'd ever had in her life and she wasn't intending on letting it go to waste.

Again her legs met an obstacle she could not see, but as she fell she realised it was the trunk of quite a large tree, probably an oak. Her shins collided painfully with the dying, heavy mass and her body rolled over it and tumbled with a splash into icy-cold water.

"Aah!" Sila cried out. She was on all-fours, her outspread palms and knees slipping and sliding in mud and tangled reeds, and her face was half-submerged and facing the strong current. Dark, murky waves slapped her red, hot cheeks like her mother did sometimes to ruddy-faced men in the pub. It had the same effect, sobering her from her giddy haze, her careless sprinting through the forest.

One of her hands found rock and she gripped at just the last moment to avoid being swept away. Slowly, with much scrabbling for other handholds, she grappled her way to the opposite bank and with one last, huge effort launched her body and her sodden clothes onto firm ground and collapsed in a soaking heap. But shivering soon aroused her from this exhausted state.

"Warmth...i need warmth..." She cast her eyes around, looking desperately for firewood but immediately cursed herself for her stupidity--fire?! She had no time for that?!

Shivering, cursing, for all her body cried out for heat, to strip off the clothes that made the cold cling to her, for rest, for money-counting...Instead she stood up shakily and angrily pulled off the cloak that now weighed her down with water. "Some use you are!" She made to fling the thing, rather satisfyingly she thought, into the river--but a silver clasp caught what little light was left and it glinted, expensive-looking...if she could dry it later it could still be of some use...it was the only cloak she had...these were the only clothes she had...and by morning the whole village would be after her!

The reality of the situation dawned on her. She stuffed the cloak in her money-bag and ran onwards.

*

The Sun had long disappeared over the flat horizon. Stars peeped out of the infinite blackness, but unluckily for Sila, they were the only source of light since there was no Moon tonight. Nevertheless, she was tripping over less than before. It made her almost glad of her river-encounter--the giddy phase had gone and she was treading more carefully. She could feel the soreness all over her legs from her silly antics. And the biting cold, like knives, spurred her on, because that was the only way to fight them, to run faster, to warm her body from within. Her sweat mingled with the river-water. Her face burst through the fog her breath created.

Her heart meanwhile had leapt in her throat and remained there. She squinted, constantly roving the ground just infront of her feet, and the white limbs that appeared there rhythmically appeared there looked like intruders, stark and frantic against the still, empty darkness...She felt like an intruder in the forest, a big, blundering human..she was not like the animals with their thick fur and knowledge and nocturnal ways...Yet at the same time she felt suddenly bonded to them for now they shared a common enemy, a common predator....Yes, she was part of the night, this was her kingdom, the human's foe!

Above her wild breathes she kept fancying to hear snatches of hound barks--but she was imagining it, of course, they could not know yet--could they?

Panic was quickly setting in. Infact, Sila thought, she had never felt so terrified--and she had got into a lot of dangerous scrapes in her time. Why did this feel different?

Because you have openly set yourself against the village, your entire village, and against your parents, who would all hate you, hate you enough to kill you--

And she could never go back, and would she be able to get away in time?! She had never travelled this far, never even tested the journey...a moan of despair bubbled up inside her...

But even in her terror, even knowing that she was now totally alone, even in the overwhelming odds, a defiant part of her grinned, and grinned a big smile across her face. Yes, she had set herself openly against the village, hadn't she? And her parents! After all the subservient small rebellions, after all the mutinous mutterings, she had done it. She was not a coward! She was not all talk! She just wished she could turn round and fight, fists bared, teeth at the ready, instead of running like she was scared--running like prey...but she needed to get away...if she kept running all through the night...

Her small moment of pride cost her. Her concentration lapsed for a few seconds and again she did not see but felt a large, fallen trunk against her legs as she tumbled over, not into a river but onto safe dry ground...where her head hit a large tree root and she lay sprawled, unconcious.

*

And Sila woke up on the cold, hard ground with a tree root as a pillow. She cursed and scrambled up, clutching a very sore head.

*

The first golden hint of sunlight reflecting off the falling leaves. Dawn was approaching.

As far as Sila was concerned, she was dead. She must have slept through half the night. Her breath came in searing gasps, her body felt like a furnace--whenever she had been awake she had been running, but now she was not sure it could be classed as a run; more like a dogged meander, bent double, blindly waving her arms to brush out low branches, stumbling over tree roots and small rocks like some old man--she had even acquired a walking stick. Every so often she became aware of her slowness and sped up in a panic, but soon returned to the same pathetic pace as before, without realising it, because she was exhausted...despite having slept half the night, she was exhausted...and she cursed herself.

How could she have been so stupid, thinking she could run through the entire night, why hadn't she planned it better...the hounds would catch her and she deserved it. But she would get those hounds, she would break their limbs and their jaws first until they killed her, because she would not go back...that she was determined of...she would not give them the satisfaction...never...

Her toe stubbed against a particularly sharp stone--she yowled in pain, lost her balance and fell sobbing to the forest floor. Sobbing because of her failures, sobbing that the whole village would want to kill her...her, Sila..sobbing to imagine the faces of the horsemen and her parents glaring down at her, their eyes seething hatred as the hounds bounded forwards...

She caught a noise and strangled her sob with a fist. She could hardly hear over the frantic pounding of her own heart, that beat even though she had stopped breathing...but someone was breathing. Something.

She strained her ears...an animal...she could hear an animal, breathing...it must be close! But her body was untensing and relaxing, because somehow she could tell, by the rhythm of its breath, that it was sleeping...

Logic poured clear and cool into her brain. It could not be a hound. A hound would not be alone, a hound would not be sleeping. And it was coming from ahead of her....Wolf! crossed her mind but was quickly silenced. She got up slowly, carefully, the jangling of money muffled by the cloak. She turned and walked towards it....

Gradually the trees thinned overhead. And a little way ahead, at the edge of the forest, stood a stable, bathed in that golden aura of the dawning Sun. And standing at the edge of the pen, a chestnut horse, sleeping, its muzzle dropping over the fence.

Sila thought she had never seen such a beautiful sight. The picture of freedom! Free of her rotten parents, who needed them! She cleared the forest in a moment and ran, aching limbs forgotten, up to the sleeping horse and cradled its head in her arms, laughing softly in its ear, the last of her tears dripping onto its fur. She had made it!