Escape

Katherine felt the tavern floor tilt beneath her boots—rage and confusion warring in her chest as Sheba circled the wounded man, growl vibrating through her legs. The mercenary clutched his bleeding arm, hood falling back to reveal greasy braids and a cruel grin. "Crow's Eye pays well for traitors' heads," he hissed, dagger gleaming. "Your parents hid messages in oat sacks." Katherine's mind reeled: *Oats*. Pa always insisted on grinding them himself. Outside, Freya's frantic whinny pierced the chaos—hooves pounded as strangers approached.

Katherine looked at the barbarian as he cradled his arm and turned and looked at the door. Thom signalled to the back entrance so she could escape. The patrons in the tavern were all friends of Katherine. They helped her by pulling the barbarian down into the cellar where they tied and gagged him. Katherine and Sheba headed out the back door and circled around to the front. She whistled and Freya's ears rose and she trotted over to Katherine.

Katherine mounted Freya and Sheba jumped onto the back of the horse. Sheba licked Katherine's cheek as Katherine leaned low over the horse's neck. She urged Freya into a gallop and headed east toward the forest. She knew that Crow's Eye would be sending more soldiers to get her and she needed to get away quickly.

Katherine rode Freya hard for an hour until she reached the edge of the forest. She dismounted and led Freya and Sheba into the woods. She found a small clearing and stopped to rest. Sheba whimpered softly and Katherine knelt down to hug her wolf. Katherine thought about her parents and the oat sacks. She remembered how her father always insisted on grinding the oats himself. She wondered what messages he had hidden in them.

Katherine searched her saddlebags and found some dried meat. She shared it with Sheba and Freya. She sat on a log and ate slowly, listening to the sounds of the forest. She heard birds chirping and leaves rustling. She also heard something else—a faint sound of horses approaching. She quickly stood up and grabbed Freya's reins. She motioned for Sheba to stay quiet.

Katherine peered through the trees toward the forest edge. Three riders emerged from the distance—rough-looking men in Crow's Eye colors. One of them shouted, "Find the traitor's daughter!" Katherine's heart raced as she saw them scanning the tree line. She knew she had to move deeper into the woods now.

*She silently tightened Freya's girth strap, her fingers trembling slightly.* Sheba pressed against her leg, a low growl rumbling in her throat. "Quiet, girl," Katherine whispered, stroking the wolf's fur. "They're too close." She remembered Pa's lessons about using damp earth to mask scent trails and knelt to rub mud on Freya's hooves and Sheba's paws.

The lead tracker dismounted where the forest met the road, crouching to examine trampled ferns. "Blood here," he called out, pointing at Freya's hoofprint where Katherine had hastily bound a shallow cut from brambles. She held her breath as his fingers traced the crimson smear.

Katherine's pulse hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird as the tracker's companions joined him, their chainmail jingling like deadly windchimes. Sheba's muscles coiled beneath Katherine's hand—a living spring ready to unleash chaos. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath; even the jays fell silent in the towering oaks. Katherine remembered Crow's Eye's reputation for flaying informants alive and pressed her dagger's hilt harder against her palm, the cold metal biting into her skin. Three against one wouldn't be a fight; it'd be a slaughter. Unless...

The lead tracker rose, squinting into the shadowed thicket where Katherine crouched. His boot nudged a cluster of crimson-streaked mushrooms—Freya's blood had dripped onto them during their frantic dash. He grinned, yellow teeth glinting. "Fresh," he rasped, drawing his sword. "Spread out. She's got that damned wolf with her." One soldier spat, muttering about cursed beasts, while the third nervously scanned the treeline, hand trembling on his axe.

Katherine's mind raced faster than her pulse—Pa once told her about the marsh fever lilies growing near Blackroot Creek. Their pollen caused violent hallucinations when inhaled. *If I can lead them southwest...* She tore a strip from her tunic, smeared it with Freya's drying blood, and hooked it on a thorny snag just visible through the ferns. Then she silently broke a branch overhead, letting it fall toward the creek's distant gurgle. Sheba's ears twitched at the sound, but the wolf remained statue-still.

The tracker's gaze snapped toward the creek as the branch cracked—a perfect lure. "This way!" he barked, boots crushing mushrooms as he charged into the thicket. His companions hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. One muttered, "Marsh ghosts haunt these parts..." but followed, blades held low. Katherine counted their fading footsteps, her palm slick on Freya's damp muzzle. *Fourteen seconds.* Enough time to mount and—

The forest canopy swallowed the hunters' clatter as Katherine guided Freya northeast instead—hooves muffled by moss, breath misting in the chill air. Beneath towering pines, the world narrowed to the rhythm of Freya's strides and Sheba's panting. Twilight bled through the branches, painting everything in bruised hues of violet and grey. Katherine's thoughts churned: Pa grinding oats at dawn, Ma humming while stitching hidden compartments into flour sacks. *What messages? To whom?* The questions burned like Freya's sweat-slicked flank beneath her thighs. When a fox darted across their path, Sheba tensed but stayed silent—training overriding instinct.

"Good girl," she breathed, fingers buried in Sheba's ruff. The wolf's answering nuzzle warmed her frozen hands. Ahead, the terrain steepened into jagged granite outcrops slick with dew. Freya stumbled, nostrils flaring wide. Katherine dismounted, running her palms down the mare's trembling legs. "Shh, brave heart," she murmured, pressing her forehead to Freya's. "Just a little farther." The rock face loomed like a fortress wall, but Pa had shown her the secret passes years ago—before Crow's Eye branded them traitors. Before the pyres.

Katherine wedged her boot into a crevice, hauling Freya upward inch by agonizing inch. Stone scraped her knuckles raw. Below, distant shouts echoed—the hunters had doubled back. *Fools took the bait.* She almost smiled until Freya's hind leg slipped, sending shale cascading down the slope. Sheba lunged, teeth closing on the mare's tail to anchor her. The wolf's muscles trembled with strain. Katherine scrambled higher, grabbing a gnarled root. "Now!" she gasped. With a grunt, Freya surged over the ledge. Katherine found the cave she was looking for. No one would find them here because the entrance was cover by a thick covering of branches and leaves.

Inside the cavern's throat, darkness swallowed them whole. Katherine collapsed against cold stone, lungs burning. Freya's breathing came in ragged huffs, her coat slick with sweat and mud. Sheba paced the entrance, ears pricked toward the distant clatter of steel. Katherine fumbled for her flint. The spark illuminated glyphs carved into the walls—a stag with crescent horns. Pa's mark. *His secret meeting place.* Her fingers traced the grooves. Beneath it, fresh scratches spelled "C-R-O-W" before stopping abruptly. Ice flooded her veins.

Katherine sat wondering how her father and mother had been branded traitors. Crow Eye had ruled the lands since she was a babe. They were cruel and took no male prisoners, men were slain and women and children enslaved. Her only hope was a nomadic woman who lived in the desert. He father had spoken of her a few times and said she could be trusted. Katherine decided that she must go forth and find her to get answers. She would rest in the cave tonight and then start on her journey.