Once in a Life-Year

He grumbled, letting his horse walk through the path. Irritated he had to leave so early. He did not—Would not believe that was the princess. Her hair was wild, unkempt! She was small! Manly even. She was rude. Abrasive. Nothing like the sweet beautiful princess he had heard about… He was glad he had no desire to serve her. To serve anyone for that matter. He grunted as his horse leaned back to bite his toes. The sun had nearly set; he had hoped he had made it far enough from the town to set up camp. He led the horse off of the path, he did not want to be stolen from.. He had stolen enough apples and gold to last him a while. Proud of his findings he gave an apple to his horse before slipping off his shirt, he noticed the night. A quiet warm night, the stars in view. A full moon was glaring at him, as he lay down. His shirt was his pillow. He counted the stars.

His horse whinnied, causing him to stir. A twig broke, that caused him to rise.
“Who’s there?” He looked around him until he saw a shadow- frozen. It was a small statue, with womanly curves, the moonlight granted the light shimmer of skin, the curved but the trees guarded her identity. He smirked; a woman had come to his bed. He walked towards her, “Hey honey. Come for a little fun?” And the statue was gone. She ran, she was fast. He followed, glancing at his horse, she had untied him. Was she going to steal his horse? He would find out. He weaved through the trees until she came to a clearing, he raced around one side so she would run into him. Into him she did run, but not unarmed, as he had thought. A sword was found pointed at him.
“Give me your food, your gold, and your horse and your life will be spared.” The sword trembled. She was scared. She was new. He recognized the voice… From where? He laughed.
“A girl is going to take my life?” He let out a large guffaw. He grabbed the sword and ripped it from her, quickly, only slicing a thin line through his hand.
“Hey-!” He pushed forward, pushing her shoulders until she hit a tree, “Ouch!” She turned her eyes on him. An intriguing green glow emanated from them. An attractive earthly dirt smell mixed with some honey slipped around him. Then he recognized her. The girl who ran into him in the brothel.
“You!” He growled, “What are you doing here?” She stared at him blankly for a moment, she then stomped on his foot, kneed him in the groin, punched him in the face. And when he finally fell over, she straddled him, her forearm on his neck.
“I said, I was here for your stuff.” He watched her curiously for what seemed like hours before he shifted his weight and flipped her over, his arms were under her legs and she rolled back. She let out a shriek and pulled her skirt down. He stood up, walking over to where he had dropped her sword; picking it up he examined it.
“Very nice. Must have been the knight who gave it to you, right?” He pulled on the vines next to him, and began to wrap her up in them.
“What are you doing?”
“Tying you up.”
“Why?”
“I am going to give you to bounty hunters in the next town. I am sure you are going to warrant a pretty penny. You ran away, did you not?” She glared at him. “Fine. Don’t say anything, better for me. This butter knife will get me some money too. I will suggest sleep, it will be a long walk for you tomorrow.” He dragged her back to the campsite, dropping her by a tree he laid back down and slept.

She panicked. What should she do? What could she do? Oh no. She was going to cry, no, no, no, that was not acceptable. Before she knew it, it was morning. She wasn’t watching him, then he blinked, she realized she was looking at him. She saw him. Handsome. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Athletic. He could destroy any orcs or trolls or Whaits, right? Right? He was near her. He smelled like trees. Pine trees. Strange. What was going on? He tied her to his horse. They began to walk. She said nothing. Just walked. She did not tire, she was used to walking… Though princesses were never supposed to walk, she took frequent walks. Especially at night, when the sky talked to her. The stars bore her a path. When she was free. He did not know what to do with this woman who did not say one word. He had never been with a woman who said nothing for hours. She was scared. She had never been taken captive but- What was that? A troll? A vampyrical shadow? A wolf? A rabbit hopped across their path, the horse reared up, she was pulled closer to the horse; her comfort zone. Horses. She let out a calming sigh. Calm, that is what she was. Calm. She would escape. Tonight. They walked for a few more hours until he attempted to start conversation,
“So…” He stopped himself. This was a blessing. Nightfall seemed to have to be dragged out by its fingernails… (In other words it took a long time!) She never tired, never slacked behind, or so it had appeared if he hadn’t had anything else to do but watch her. She was exhausted. Her shoulders slumped, she attempted not to drag her feet, but when she did she was as quiet as she possibly could be. She was conscious of him watching her, when she noticed him she would look up with a look of defiance that struck strange bumps of anticipation up and down his arms and shoulders, causing him to shutter. She was about as scary as a grizzly bear for being so little and female. Ugh. Females. Only good for sex. They talk and bluster! Nag and groan! “I want…” “Do this…” He hated them. Her eyes, if he held them betrayed her, unfortunately for her. They explained how tired she was. He doubted she had slept; Logically she was tired. Logically, she would hide it from her enemies. Like a cat, wounded but you would never see that. You would only see the stand-off or friendly attitude, but back in the corner in the middle of the night when you are not watching it licks its wounds quietly… Waiting for itself to heal. It was evening, the sun began to set, she was breathing unevenly if he watched her chest rise and fall. She was close to crying, she could feel the stinging in her eyes, the lightheadedness, the lump in her throat. She could hardly breathe, she wanted to run, she wanted to fight, she wanted anything but showing this god-forsaken man what he wanted. He wanted her broken. He wanted her to give up. He wanted her to cry. She would NOT cry. Period! She tripped. She sucked in a breath. She ground her teeth. She waited. She didn’t fall. She didn’t cry. He led her off of the main road again, and he seemed to walk forever until he stopped and tied the horse to a tree and attached her to another tree with twine he had in his bag.
“I am getting some firewood. Guard the camp.” He chuckled as he walked away. He returned a while later to her having fallen asleep; she looked tired even as she slept. And then he saw them. Just four. But they were there. Advancing on her. He dropped the firewood, loud and clear. Their deformed grey faces turned to him. Their abnormally thin bodies that glistened with the green ooze they liked to suffocate their pray with that had slipped from their elongated sharp fingertips. These two and a half feet tall monsters were called Tzarms. (Zarms) They usually traveled in pack of 15 or more. Very similar to viruses, multiplied in size. They rushed him, he drew his sword as they pounced. He swung right and hit one, three jumped on his leg. The thing merely wrapped itself around the sword and began to climb towards him. The Tzarms on his leg has split up; two on his left and one on his right, they began to climb up. She decided it was time to wake up when he grunted as his leg was cut by a claw. She saw what was happening and gasped, beginning to shake.
“What are you doing?” He barked at her, throwing the Tzarm on his sword away from him. He then stabbed down at one of them on his left.
The thing was leaking! It was oozing green stuff! It had sharp hands. She wanted to run. She pulled away from the tree, she saw another one. It walked towards her. It didn’t walk.. It didn’t walk. Towards her! It.. hobbled. It dragged its feet. Disgusting little sticks, with two little toes. It used its long arms to walk...To balance. Four long sharp blade looking nails spread from a palm smaller than can be imagined. Its arms and hands? No, weapons, leaked green-black goop that seemed to leave a film on its body. It’s head… Was it a head? An oval small and lumpy thing that could barely fit atop it’s body had four eyes, two under and above each other, and one on each side. It seemed to have sticks that vibrated and protruded from just above its side-eyes. A large trap filled with sharp black teeth drooled the ooze! Drooled it! She started to cry. They liked that. They all turned to her. They all came to her. Or was it because he was dead? Her captor. Dead? She turned to him, he had killed two of them, so only three remained… But they had trapped him. Smart little buggers. Trap and then feed on the loose one. She couldn’t feel her hands. She couldn’t stand, she didn’t know when she had stood. She fell to the floor only to stand up and pull away from the tree. She was stuck. All she could see was blurry images. Thunder crackled, she was all wet. When had it started to rain?