He scratched at the motley hair on his unshaven cheek and slid his gaze down and back up her body. His grin widened. “What a coincidence,” he rasped. The snow crunched under the weight of his footfalls as he stepped closer. “My brothers should be along soon too. And they’d love to meet you.”
Her heart pulsed faster. Escaping would be difficult in the open. She swallowed the panic rising in her throat. She needed to keep her wits about her.
“I’m sure they’re lovely, but I should be on my way.” She backed up slowly, positioning herself to flee, but he lurched forward and grabbed her wrist, stopping her escape.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Get your hands off me!” she demanded, trying to pull away from him.
He gave a grisly chuckle.
She fought his hold, striking out with her free hand, but his thick layers thwarted her defense. He pulled her closer, and the putrid smell of his breath—a vile, rotting stench—filled her nostrils. She whipped her hand up and raked her nails across the exposed skin of his face. He reeled back, growling in pain, and she sank her teeth into the flesh of his fingers. He lost his grip, and she wrenched away.
Everything within her screamed to run—this time with reason.
She sprinted back toward the forest. Her heart raced, coursing energy through her and giving her a burst of speed. His raged curses rang heavily close behind, and she feared she might not make it to the trees. Her lungs stung with each icy inhale; her legs begged her to stop. But she pushed herself harder, coughing for breath as she ran.
His growling huffs grew fainter, and she finally dared to peek back. She had gained a bit of distance from him. He was fast for his size, but she was faster. Her body tired, slowing, but her fear kept her going. She couldn’t feel her feet and worried about falling—she needed to make it to the forest. Almost there, she racked her mind with what to do next. The snow would give her position away. She would have to outrun him. She glanced back again and, to her horror, caught sight of not only her assailant but three more men a little way behind him.
Reaching the tree line, she charged into the wood. As she fled deeper into the forest, it grew quiet behind her. Had he stopped? Was he waiting for his friends? She looked around desperately. Her body couldn’t run anymore, and the high-branched evergreens gave little opportunities to climb and hide. She couldn’t see her pursuers, but the sound of their voices told her they had joined up at the edge of the forest.
She paused as she raced through her options. Suddenly, the small fox appeared again, sitting calmly on a fallen tree.
“You again,” she said, panting as she looked around and tried to rationalize a plan. “Any help would be greatly appreciated,” she added. His ears perked as he watched her.
Stupid, she scolded herself. Now wasn’t the time to be talking to a fox.
She picked up her pace again, fleeing farther into the wood. Lighter snow made her trail less noticeable. She saw a ridge ahead and sprang toward it. A frozen stream lay below, sheltered from the snow by its banks. Her pulse raced as her chances of eluding her pursuers grew marginally better. She slid down onto the ice, trying not to disturb the snowy bank too much, and made her way along the frozen water, but it still didn’t hide her. If they made it to the stream, they’d see her.
She noticed an alcove carved out along the stream’s bank. Although it was small, it would conceal her. If she was lucky, she could wait until they moved on. She crept into the hollow, pulling her skirts tightly around her and trying to quiet her labored breath.
The forest stood quiet. She waited. No one came. She waited longer. Still, she heard nothing, but she knew better than to venture out.
A branch snapped nearby.
Her heart beat heavily in her chest. A wave of fear washed over her, and she cursed her choice to hide. She should have kept running. Now she could only wait and hope they wouldn’t find her.
“Where are you, lovely?” a sickening voice called. “I know you hear me.”
“Alke, we shouldn’t be in here,” a second voice replied. “It’s not worth it. We should just leave her.”
“Shut your face, you coward! I’m not leaving without that wench.”
She bit back a cry rising in her throat.
“There’s much worse than me in this forest,” he called to her. “Be smart, come out.”
His companion snickered.
The air grew quiet again. She strained her ears, but she heard nothing. Still, she waited. She wasn’t foolish enough to think they’d gone. Her legs cramped in the tight confines, but she didn’t dare move.
Suddenly, a hand reached down and grabbed her arm. She let out a scream as he dragged her from her hiding space.
“Gotcha,” the brute wheezed, this time holding her at arm’s length to stave off her defensive attack.
“Let me go!” she cried, twisting against him.
His companion, looking just as disheveled, chuckled beside him, but there was no sign of the other two. Where were they?
“We got her!” her captor bellowed over his shoulder, and she realized the others had stayed at the edge of the wood. They gave a few celebratory calls and urged their friends to hurry out as he dragged her back toward them.
“Let me go!” she shouted again as she struggled, desperately fighting against him, but she couldn’t match his strength. He gave a raspy chuckle and pulled her along.
“Alke,” the second man called from behind them, but her captor dragged her on, too enthralled with his catch.
“Alke!” The man’s voice came more urgent now, enough to pull even her attention.
The man that held her looked over his shoulder with a snarling glare. “Shake off, man. Come on.”
But something was wrong. His companion didn’t move.
“Bullo, come on,” her captor snapped, growing impatient.
But the man still didn’t move. His lips trembled.
“Bullo?”
The man pulled a dagger from his belt with shaking hands and brought the blade to his own neck.
She paused in her fight to free herself as a creeping dread snaked through her.
Her captor’s eyes widened. “Bullo, what are you doing?”
Bullo’s face strained, his veins bulging at his temples. “Alke!” he cried to his friend in terror. “Help me—”
But the blade cut off his words as he sliced into his own flesh. She gave a terrified gasp but held back a scream. Bullo sputtered as he choked for air. Blood sprayed down the front of his matted furs, falling to the ground and coloring the surrounding snow. He staggered forward, then collapsed with a gurgle onto the forest floor.
“Bullo!” her captor shouted, and moved toward him. Then he stopped suddenly. He let go of her wrist, but she stood frozen, too terrified to run. He looked back at her as his face twisted, his eyes widening with fear. “Witch!” he snarled.
She stumbled back. He bared his rotting teeth as he pulled his own dagger from his belt. She took another step back, shaking her head. What was happening?
“Witch!” he bellowed.
His fellow men yelled to him from the tree line, their voices urgently calling him to get out of the forest, but they didn’t enter. Why didn’t they come?
He raised his dagger, and terror ran through her. He blamed her, and he was going to kill her.