Sunday Sketch

The girl ran into the forest, fleeing the pain chasing behind her.  Her skirt fluttered behind her, the hem ripping into ragged strips.  Her long light brown hair narrowly missed being caught on the grasping branches that seemed to lean down to catch and hold her.  She stumbled every few feet, blindly running away from the sound of the drums.  Bum-bum-bum-pa-bum. Bum-pa-bumbum.  The rolling sound filled the forest, enveloping her in it's ominous, commanding rhythm.  

She flew blindly until she ran into a gate.  It had no lock, but no matter how hard she tugged, she couldn't open it.  Fear choked her, rising up in her throat.  The drums were getting closer.  She knew the Seekers would be out in front of them with their cudgels, searching for her.  She shook herself, trying to regain enough control to read the gate.  "Knock and it will be opened," was scrolled across the top.  She frowned. It couldn't be that simple.  She'd been banging on the gate, trying to get it open and it hadn't.  

The drums got closer.

She bit back a scream and knocked on the gate, pounding on it so hard her knuckles bruised instantly.  "Please," she whispered, collapsing against the bars, willing someone to hear her.  The gate quietly swung open.  She stumbled forward, not trusting herself to stand.  Her hand clung to the gate, and then to the first tree beyond it.  The gate quietly swung back shut as soon as she was inside. 

The girl stumbled from tree to shrub until she was out of sight of the gate. Too tired and scared to continue, she collapsed into a heap under a tree.  Slowly her eyes flickered closed, unaware the drums, the rhythmic, possessive, chilling drums had stopped.

Keeper found her there, hours later.  He was humming as he stepped sprightly through the friendly woods he had been entrusted with, the forest he protected.  Keeper had been on his way to check on the gate.  He had heard the drums and knew they were on the hunt.  He wouldn't let the Seekers into this place, and that meant checking on the gate.  

He stopped when he saw a willow bent over a small pale figure, it's branches caressing her gently.  Keeper gently picked up the child, cradling her to his chest and walking through the kindly trees that bent back their branches to let the guardian through with his precious bundle.  

Keeper walked through the dusk to his home, hearth, and wife.  Grace was waiting for him there, a bed ready for the child.  She had known she would need it as soon as the girl had entered their side of the gate.  

"She's beautiful, this one," Grace said quietly.

"She had Seekers after her," Keeper replied, laying her on the bed.  "I found her asleep."

Grace took in the torn dress and the dried blood on the girl's legs from unkind branches.  Her kind eyes caught sight of the bruises on the child's hands, and the scars that ran up and down her arms.  Neither Keeper or his wife was surprised when they saw the burns barely healed on the child's back, or the scars beneath them.  Grace simply dressed her wounds and made sure the soup on the stove would stay warm and ready.

"She will heal," the King stepped up behind the couple, where they stood studying the small child. They hadn't even noticed when he came in.  Grace nodded, tears in her eyes. "She will be one of your strongest, Grace."

"She ran too long and far," Grace said softly. 

"The gate isn't always easy to find," the King kissed the girl's brow.  "She didn't know what she was seeking."

The three adults settled around the table with mugs of coffee. "The work is only just beginning with her, m'lord," Keeper said.

"She's closer than you'd expect," the King shook his head.  "I will come take her to play tomorrow, Grace."

"Of course, sir," Grace nodded.  "She will need your laughter. It's always been the best cure."

The little girl stirred, and they all glanced at her.  Her eyes flickered open and she pushed herself up with a start, disoriented and confused.  "Where am I?" she asked, her voice hoarse. 

"Safe, and far away from the Seekers," the King picked her up and brought her over to the table.  She didn't even flinch when he bumped her cuts and burns.  Grace turned away to hide her tears at the pain the girl hid.  "What's your name?"

"Trix," she said quietly, her eyes glued to the bowl in Grace's hand.  It was clear she longed for it, but that she didn't dare ask for it, especially while in someone's lap.  Grace set the bowl down in front of her, but Trix made no move towards it.

"Are you hungry, lass?" Keeper asked her.

"No," Trix shook her head.  They could all see she was lying.

"It's alright," the King drew the bowl towards her. "You can eat now.  You are safe, darling."

Trix looked up at the man for a moment, aware that he was different.  She caught the kindness in his eyes and his face.  She saw the white hair at his temples that faded into the rest of the dark curly mop, and she also caught the golden highlights sparkling throughout it.  She saw the gold flecks in his warm eyes and the comforting earnest smile, and knew what they had said was true.  She was safe.

Trix leaned back against the King's chest and took a bite of the soup.