HERA
The wearing off of adrenaline is a gradual process with stages I have now come to hate.
The first thing that happens, the first thing you notice as your heart rate slows down is the cold.
It is like the air drops a million degrees in aftermath of your…adventure and now that you no longer have your need to survive as a blanket; all you’re left with is bone chilling fear.
And then, before you can get used to the cold, pain shows up.
Shooting up and into the crevices of your bones, into every inch of your body until it hurts just to even breathe and your lungs feel like they might give up on you any minute.
Especially if like me you spent the night locked up in some sordid cellar, deep in a tunnel below a mountain and then spent the better part of your day getting tossed around, slammed against walls and then plotting and executing your escape from one of the most dangerous beings in the realms.
You forgot to add kissing handsome, irresistible said dangerous being. My ever helpful, treacherous brain quips.
As if I could forget.
Although, having to spend the rest of my day covered in prickly, itchy hay, and cramped up in the back of some rickety wagon was certainly helping.
The cart jostles and shudders with nearly every step as if to constantly remind me of exactly why I hate life.
The journey down the winding, uneven path with its rocks and stones that led down Dragon’s mount had been slow and the most excruciating part so far.
I thought it was never going to end but after what seemed like an eternity, we were now finally moving on smooth even plains.
But my mood is very much still sour.
Anyone would be too if they also had grass sticking in places grass should not be sticking in.
Oh and the darn stable boy’s whistling, an irritating jolly tune that serves as a cheery backdrop for my predicament is definitely not helping.
I want to yell at him to stop.
He is a fucking stable boy being made to take the same tiring exhausting journey four times in two days.
Exactly what in Hades did he have to be so damn happy about?
But I also want to get to my destination without having him scream ‘bloody murder’ so I grind my teeth through song after unending song and keep my mouth shut.
Despite the way the sky remains an unusual grey color, I realize the dragon realm is an undeniably beautiful place.
Once I manage that is, to get past the fact that is chuck full of dragons and murdering Ryders and gods know what else.
The landscape changes quite abruptly here. The features rather than blend into one another, change so fast it’s almost disorienting.
We move from rocky, hard terrains, to gentle slopes carpeted in emerald green grass and littered with sweet violet.
We pass golden fields of thigh high wheat and acres of corn with their crowns a blazing golden yellow, then a fruit groove on either side of a dirt path.
Tall Trees and short trees in full bloom scattered around the area. Heavy with fruits and punctuated by flowers of natures and hues I am not even entirely certain I recognize.
I note from the peep hole I created for myself through the hay, that for some reason colors seem brighter here. Almost like they have a life of their own.
I can hear buzzing bees as they flint from flower to flower and the beaked chorus of birds in flight.
Once I swear I even hear a falcon swoop low over the cart just out the corner of my eyes.
Now that I am finally out of the castle and able to breathe in fresh air, I start to feel marginally better and I begin to weigh my options.
Henette had said the stable boy intends to return the bad hay and get fresh good hay at the market which means he is definitely headed into the capital.
I know I have to get off before he stops to off load the hay.
This means, if I wanted to get as close to the forest as possible while simultaneously avoiding the capital, it would better and less risky to get off just before he got into town.
Less risky??! Sensible Hera shrieks from the place I’ve hidden her in my head.
Less risky would have been staying silently in your room till he returned. But Noooo…. you just had to escape. Now here you are, planning to jump out of a moving cart and hide from the dragon king in some forest most definitely teeming with creatures you know nothing about; talking about less risky. Try again.
But it is the only real option I have. I can’t afford to be seen in the city, it would be too dangerous.
For all I know, Midas himself might be there.
So I shut the sensible, cautious part of me up and ignore it.
The journey is farther than I thought it would be and maybe it’s the rhythmic undulating nature of the mare’s canter down the road or even the stable boys darn whistling but somehow my eyes start to feel heavy.
Then suddenly I’m standing in the most beautiful glades I have ever seen, drifting through waist high grass the same magenta purple as the setting summer sky.
I can hear bird song and smell citrusy blooming pears. It’s an absolute paradise; whole and ethereal in its perfection.
I feel happy. More happy than I have ever been in my life and not just because of where I am; basking in the magnificent, bright sun of this heavenly place.
It’s because he’s here to too.
I can sense him before I see him standing ahead of me, hands behind his back and I can tell he’s hiding his gift for me.
He’s smiling that beautiful mischievous smile that makes my heart swell and nearly burst from joy.
But as I float towards him, my happiness morphs into bone chilling fear. There’s something else here.
Something behind him.
A flash of lighting rents the sky, filling the air with the acrid, choking smell of thick smoke.
He keeps smiling at me even as the sky turns the color of blood and heavy dark clouds writhe and gather above our heads.
He doesn’t feel it, this overwhelming sense of doom that sends tears running down my cheeks.
Doesn’t see the blackness like thick, cloying ink creeping up behind him.
The darkness is alive. I want to shout, to cry out and warn him.
But before I can open my mouth, ghostly dark tendrils like twisted, clawed arms wrap around his hands… his legs… his neck.
I see the horror in his eyes seconds before they drag him with them into that vast chasm of abysmal darkness.
“MIDAS!!!”
I scream his name. Again and again and again
But the sound disappears in the sudden howling winds and the darkness reaches for me too.
My eyes fly open and I jerk up, gasping and shivering.
Somehow I have managed to fall asleep.
But that isn’t why my heart is racing like I am being pursued, why my mouth feels wooly and bitter and why my hands won’t stop shaking.
It’s okay Hera. It was just a dream
“Just a dream” I repeat out loud.
Then why had it feel so real and why even now that I am awake, do I still feel that overwhelming sense of approaching yet far off doom?
Suddenly I can hear voices.
Lots of tiny, loud, chattering voices moving in different directions
That’s when I notice. The cart is no longer moving.
“Shit… shit… shit”
I peep carefully through my hole in the hay and the view in front of me causes my eyes to go wide in alarm.
I had slept longer than I realized and sometime during my…nap, he must have ridden in town.
I listen hard for that persistent, needless whistling among the murmur of voices but I can’t hear it.
Where is he?
And if he had arrived, why hadn’t he uncovered the hay and discovered me by now?
I decide I am definitely not sticking around long enough to find out.
Looking out again I notice we’re not in the market, not exactly.
I can see from my position behind the cart, a road running perpendicular to me and across from that is the market but the cart itself is parked in some sort of alley between two tall stone buildings.
I wait till there is no one walking close to the alley then I gently ease up the canvas and crawl out from under the hay.
My feet touch the ground and I stifle a cry of pain as I stretch out my sore, cramped body.
As it turns out, velvet and hay are not the best of combinations and I step out looking a ruffian who went tumbling in the manor’s ranch.
I try to dust off myself as best as I can and access my situation.
I still have no intention of staying in the capital. When they decide to come looking for me, I am almost certain this will be the first place they check.
So I still have to find my way out of the capital without drawing attention to myself, running into a Ryder or the gods forbid it, Midas himself.
I step out the shaded darkness of the alley and my senses are immediately assaulted from every corner.
Colors of every shade, goods of every type stand in stark relief to the grey stone of the city.
There are dragonkin everywhere.
I can hear them calling out to each other; laughing and yelling, peddling their wares…pushing carts over flowing with goods.
They look almost...human.
I see little dragonkin children dashing through the streets giggling and chasing one another in their tunics and leather shoes. Shy girls clinging to their mothers’ apron as she haggles prices with the plump hulking baker.
If I try hard enough, I can almost imagine I am back home in Averia’s own capital.
Almost.
I walk down the noisy streets keeping my head down and making sure to maintain a pace that doesn’t draw attention while simultaneously looking round for any guards.
I pull my hood tight over my head.
They might not recognize me as the King’s runaway bride but dragonkin all have either snow white hair or hair the same pitch black as tar.
One look at my flaming red hair and they would know instantly that I am not one of them.
A man bumps roughly into me and moves on without apologizing.
As I near the end of the road, the rowdy market square now behind me, I see an off beaten path to the left that leads towards a short wooden fence and beyond it lies my destination.
The forest.
Just as I’m about to take it, a little boy tugs at my dress.
“Miss…you dropped this.”
I reach for it. It’s a ruby that must have fallen off from my hair when the man from earlier bumped into me.
“T…thank you.”
He smiles a cherubic smile, his mouth covered in dustings of sugar. “You have pretty hair.”
That’s when I realize in horror that my hair is no longer covered and that the boy’s mother who was running towards him has now stopped to stare open mouthed at me.
Eyes wide, she points a shaky finger in my direction. “human…”
I take off before the words are completely out her mouth, my cloak flapping behind me as I stumble down the dirt path.
Running without looking back till I climb over the fence and land smoothly on the other side.
By the time I do look back, a small crowd has gathered around the little boy and the mother who is still gesturing wildly in my direction.
I attempt to leap over the small purple river but end up slipping at the last moment, twisting my ankle and falling head long into the icy water.
And it is wet, hungry and limping that I drag myself into the thick forest.
Praying to every god I know that they do not come after me and that whatever lies within the secret shades of the trees isn’t worse that what I have just so narrowly escaped.