Fierce; The Ties That Bind or The Bravery of Mortals

Fierce, unending hunger. That was the first thing that clawed at Caspian’s mind as he dredged through the New England forests, his feet dragging unenthusiastically. Long, claw-tipped fingers, reached up from an emaciated and pale hand, touching the iron cage bars that held the man’s head captive. How long had it been since that damn Hunter had forced the blasted contraption upon him? Snarling under his breath, the man stumbled slightly on the uneven terrain. Taking a glance down at his worn and tattered silk stockings, Caspian lifted his caged head once more to survey the dark landscape before him. Unending oak trees surrounded him on all sides, the branches of said trees seemed to mock him, waving and dancing joyously in the wind that kicked up as he stood staring and pondering his current predicament. Pulling himself out of his musings, Caspian turned to the east and started his slow trudge once more, not knowing where he was heading, only seeking to put more distance between himself and his would-be executioners. Dawn was about to break, and Caspian had found no shelter suitable for hiding from the oncoming new day. A grim smile stretched the thin and dry face behind the cage as the man let out a bitter bark of quiet laughter. To have defeated three Hunters, escaped from the slaughter in the main house, and cross over three Indigenous territories; only to be defeated by the sun. Maybe he did deserve to suffer… Caspian barely noticed as the trees thinned out and a small wood cabin appeared a hundred yards before him. Settlers. Before he could take step in any direction, he heard a soft inhale of air to the left behind him. Spinning around, he saw a young woman standing ten feet from him, her black wool cloak being tossed about by the wind. Long, braided white blonde hair, tan skin, simple gray and white dress… He had no time to study her further, as he could see daylight quickly approaching the edges of the sky, the dark purple velvet of the night, softening into the pale lilac hues of a brand new day. Caspian remained still, waiting for the female to either scream and draw a crowd of armed villagers, or for the sun himself to come and claim his life. Instead she did neither. Trembling tan fingers reached up and deftly unfastened her hooded cloak, before stepping forward and closing the gap between the two. Swinging the cloak off her own shoulders in a smooth snap, the woman swiftly settled it upon Caspian’s shoulders and drew the hood up, those tan fingers wrapping around his left upper shoulder, and gently but firmly pulling her after him. As startled and emaciated as Caspian was, he could find no will or strength to fight the woman as she rushed him along to the side of the wooden cabin he had just been watching previously. Hurrying him along, the woman stopped before a large mound of earth beside the main house. Peering around her, Caspian saw a small hinged door, which the woman firmly grasped the handle of, and pulled sharply. The wooden door creaked open slowly with a groan, the weight giving the woman a brief struggle. As soon as the door was open enough to slip through, the woman gave Caspian a push towards the darkened crack, with a sharply whispered, “Hurry up! The sun approaches quickly! You must be quicker! I will return when the night falls, but if you value your un-life, I pray thee to retreat inside, NOW!” Caspian was so startled, he complied instantly, stepping into the cold darkness of the woman’s root cellar. Stones and mortar surrounded him in blessed darkness, the only light a sliver through the doorway in which the woman now stood. “I promise I will be back to let you out once the sun goes down, sir. I also think that I may have some tools that can assist in removing that inhumane abomination upon your head… For now, please, rest in here. It is safe as I am the only one to go in and out on this land. I wish I had more to give, but please. Keep the cloak for a bit of comfort down in this cellar of mine. I must go and attend my duties, but I WILL be back. Catriona O’Halloran, never breaks her word!” With that, the door groaned shut, leaving Caspian in utter darkness and solitude. As the lock tumblers shifted into place, the man slumped in relief. The woman was an odd one for sure. Inviting one such as himself into her root cellar rather than call for help and leave him to it. There was no way she could have mistaken him as anything other than he was, the iron cage encasing his head ensured that. The unkempt wildly matted mid-back length black hair beneath the trap didn’t help his appearance, nor the torn and tattered rags that once called themselves fine silks. A little over a month and a half he had been imprisoned thusly, wandering aimlessly in the hopes of evading those damned Hunters. But now? He had the vague impression that his little underground refuge was safe. So when the sun cast its first rays upon the waking mortals of New England, Caspian slid down a stone wall and slumped forward, closing his pale green eyes in surrender to DaySleep. His last thought was of Catriona’s own olive-green eyes meeting his.