The Hunted Princess

Chapter1

It had been raining for days without letting up, but this morning, when the sun seemed about ready to make an appearance behind a particularly thin cloud, Marge made the decision that Vera should be sent out to re-stock the dwindling larder and meat shed. With no one objecting, Vera was quickly bombarded with Marge’s list of demands. Only the best marbled beef, only the fattest chickens, only the freshest of all the vegetables, and Vera had better get them all, and if any were not up to par those would be Vera’s allotment until the next grocery run. Vera knew from experience she wouldn’t be getting anything she brought back until it had started to rot, which would be quickly since they couldn’t afford “the best” of anything.

She had spared a moment to put spare layers on any of the younger kids that were brave enough to want to leave the house as well, but Marge coo’ed over her shoulder they were not to stray too far, in case it started raining again. She, on the other hand, was almost kicked out by Marge before she’d wrapped her thin shawl around her shoulders, and told not to forget anything, and she’d better not dare to trail mud through the house when she came back.

Vera didn’t mind. Maybe when she was younger she would have been stung by the unfairness, but now she was just happy to leave the cramped shed they called a house, and the sight of the dirty and loud family, for a while. As the kids behind her threw balls of mud at each other, laughing loudly, she trudged quickly, wanting to put some distance between them in case they started slinging at her. She heard Marge laughing loudly along with them, praising any that hit another in the face. Vera grimaced at how she would have to clean them all once she got home. She slipped a few times in the mud, but she kept her pace, relishing the fresh, if damp air.

A one-bedroom cabin with ten people, seven of which were barely teenagers, became stifling after a few hours, much less a few days. The muggy air had made it’s way in, drenching everyone and making their clothes and skin sticky. Everyone had become lethargic and it was up to Vera to collect water from a barrel outside and wipe everyone constantly with the cool liquid while she suffered through her own discomfort. Now, she breathed deeply and pulled the blouse away from her skin as she made her way to the village.

The place had no name on any map, and the people who lived here never felt the need to refer to it as anything but “the village”. Traders and travelers who came through were surprised it even existed, and often asked why the whole place didn’t move to the nearby town that was only another days march up the trail. No one ever seemed to have a good answer except “this is where I live”, and that seemed more than enough for the weary, who were eager to move on when they found there was no inn.

The only reason anyone might stay for more than a night was for the pub. Though small, the keeper enjoyed making his own brew year round, and the villagers were eager to listen to any grand tales in exchange for a drink. Vera was sometimes able to catch snippets of stories being retold by locals once the travelers moved on, but Alber had once caught her listening to a first-hand account and had whipped her so hard she avoided the pub ever since.

Today the village was quiet. Everyone was still inside, probably waiting to see if it would start raining again. The streets were wider, but no less muddy than the path Vera had used to come here, making even going to a neighbors house a chore. The only people outside were the ones who had tiny porches to step onto, still keeping them out of the mud. They watched Vera walk by silently, but she could feel their sharp gazes on her, even after passing. Just another thing she was used to. She was looked down on by the people in her own house, how could these strangers gazes affect her?

She quickly picked the vegetables she needed from the stern-looking mother of three in one stall, who watched her every move as though Vera were a known thief, even though Vera had never stolen, or even thought to steal, anything from anyone. Her two oldest children watched Vera from behind their mothers skirt with similar looks of mistrust, but the youngest struggled to form words to babble something he seemed excited about to Vera. He looked directly at her and gurgled happily when she turned to him with a gentle gaze.

“Off w’ ye now!” The mother snapped when her son’s gurgling elicited a slight giggle from Vera. “An’ tell tha’ Alber ter stop dragging my Amos into ‘is dirty gamblin’, or I’ll not be sellin’ to you no more!” Vera nodded at the mud before turning to trudge to the next stall. She could hear the mother scolding the son behind her, but dared not turn as she felt the weight of the other vendors glaring at her. No doubt they wanted to make the same threats, except none actually wanted to talk to her.

Vera finished the rest of her shopping in silence. The elation she had felt at leaving the hut had worn off, and now the gazes of everyone in town seemed to press her deep into the mud. Just as she finished at the last stall she heard raised voices toward the end of the street. Normally Vera would rather avoid any kind of altercations, but with the thick mud and looming clouds, the way of the excitement was her fastest way back, so she went towards the commotion with some trepidation.

“Yer kind are not welcome here!” A group of men were huddled in a large circle, glaring down at whatever was in the center. They were packed tight enough that Vera couldn’t see who they were talking to, but even angrier voices started replying all in a jumble.

“We’re just passing through…Seems you welcome no one…it’s not like we want to come here!” These voices were deep and one or two of the men stepped back in surprise, giving Vera a glimpse inside the circle. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of more men…but these ones were barely as tall as her, with thick mustaches and thicker bodies. The inscriptions on the weapons they brandished around them were unmistakable, even if she’d only ever seen glimpses of them before. Dwarves!

“Then pass through, no need to dawdle.” One man huffed and stepped aside just enough the dwarves could leave the circle in a single line. They hesitated only a moment, before one started pushing his companions ahead of him. They filed down the street in stony silence, some glaring at everyone around, others keeping their eyes firmly on the ground. The one that had pushed the others gave a hearty growl when a few of the men started following his group, seemingly to make sure they left the town.

The dwarves were herded in the same direction that Vera needed to go, so she followed at a much slower pace. The men eyed her when she passed them on the outskirt of town, but she kept her head down and no one bothered her as she hauled her bags back onto the muddy track.

Soon, she came upon the group of dwarves, all huddled together and whisper-yelling at each other.

“What now, we don’t have enough to get us to the next town? We’re half starved already!” One said loudly, while the apparent leader shook his head in despair. Vera knew the look on his face, even if his was covered in dark braids. His crew really did look in a bad way, with their armor barely draped over thin frames and dark circles under their eyes. Their eyes matched the crying of her soul every time she thought she truly might not see the morning.

“E-Excuse me…” Vera stopped several feet away from them, but they all turned and drew their weapons to the best of the ability. She noted that three couldn’t lift them off the ground anymore. “If you follow the road to the next town, you’ll pass a small forest just south of the path, about three hours walk from here. Hunters say it’s impossible to not catch something there, since the animals haven’t learned fear.” She said all this quickly, not wanting to say too much and incite any anger from them.

When they didn’t say a word, only glared at her, she stepped off the path enough that she could go past. The leader was the closest to her as she walked and before she could think about what she was doing, she’d reached into her bag and thrust a small bag of deer jerky into his chest, which he clutched as though her small effort could knock him over.

“This should be enough to get you there.” She said before walking off without looking back. The jerky was always bought as a snack for the kids, but she could easily say there wasn’t any today and it wouldn’t be missed, since that happened often. She didn’t look back and walked as quickly as she could when she heard thunder in the distance.

Unfortunately for her, she was completely wrong. It had started drizzling heavily by the time she reached the house, and the moment she opened the door, drenched, sweaty and tired, seven small voices cried out for jerky. Marge demanded she hand it over to the “poor wee ones” before she put the rest of the items up.

When Vera explained there was no jerky in the store today, some faces fell, but quickly grew angry when a raspy voice called from one corner of the room, “Liar, I was there this morning and Tally was braggin’ he had more’n he’d be able to sell.” Hidden in the darkest part of the room sat Alber with a bottle in his hand as he watched his wife and kids surround Vera.

Before she could explain anything, a large meaty hand came down on Vera’s face, sending her sprawling to the floor in an explosion of groceries. “Thief! You ate it yerself didn’t you, fat pig! While my little’ns starve! I’ll beat it out of you now!” Marge screamed, reeling back her hand to slap Vera again.