Ravenwood(7)

“I am quite capable, I promise.” She hesitated and added, “You are quite badly injured, Mr. Thistlewaite.”

She heard a sort of sigh from him and she knew her words were true. After another wet cough, he said, “Come here, miss. I’ve something for you.”

She moved closer to the wreck, the light from the lantern guiding her way. She crouched down low and this time she could make out his long, thin face - pale and grey in the aftermath of the crash.

He held a pistol in his hand.

“Can you shoot?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Elinore wobbled her head back and forth. “After a fashion. My father gave me lessons once. A long time ago.”

He nodded, as though it were expected. Teaching young ladies to shoot was most decidedly not a priority of most fathers. “Take this with you. Don’t be fancy, miss. Aim for the biggest spots on the body. The chest, the torso.”

She laughed nervously. “You make it sound as though I’ll be shooting at a man and not at some creature of the forest.”

His grim face made her blood run cold. “There are two shots in here. Don’t use them unless you’re sure you’re in trouble. It sounds horrible, and I don’t mean to frighten you more, but it’s best to wait until the thing comes closer to have a better shot at it.”

Elinore reached out with a trembling hand and took the pistol. Thistle’s hand was cold and clammy under hers and she knew she was making the right decision to get help, even though she was afraid.

“Do you have any more bullets?” she asked, voice trembling slightly. “I have seen pistols loaded before. I believe I can do it.”

He shook his head. “None for this night,” he answered and she frowned at his choice of words. He next handed her a blade, holding it handle first to her.

“Mr. Thistlewaite, I surely won’t be getting close enough to any animals to have a use for that.”

“Please, just take it. I’ve another.”

“You’re awfully well-armed for a simple trip through the woods,” Elinore said, attempting to make her voice light. She took the blade and managed to tuck it into one of the pockets. She’d likely end up accidentally cutting her leg with it.

“These woods are well known to me.”

His words made her stomach clench, but she could not afford to lose her resolve.

“Follow the path, don’t stray off it any. The manor is less than a mile from here.”

“I shall return with help,” she said firmly, nodding at him.

“God go with you, miss. God go with you.”

Gritting her teeth, she clutched the pistol in one hand and the lantern in the other and set off into the night.





Chapter Two





It was darker than she had expected. Darker and colder.

She had known, of course, it would be both. Elinore was fanciful, but she wasn’t foolish. It was the middle of the night, she was wet and there had been a storm. She was bound to be chilled and to find the forest gloomy, but she didn’t expect the darkness to have such depth, nor the cold to have such teeth. She thought with the full moon, she would have more than enough light to see by, but the passing storm clouds obscured the bright orb intermittently, leaving her one moment in sliver-bathed light and another completely in the dark.

Elinore held the lantern slightly in front of her, its small candle only able to cast a tiny globe of illumination - just enough at the moment to keep her on the path and from drifting into the wilder forest. She longed for the next break in the clouds, where the moon could shine down and she would not feel so alone in the world.

The trees rustled in the night air and she shivered at the sound. Her teeth chattered and she ground her jaw together, forcing them silent. Her cloak hung on her shoulders, wet and heavy. She wondered if she would be warmer without it, but dared not discard it. There was nothing to be done about the cold, she told herself. It was temporary. Thistle had been injured and she was the only chance he had for help. She could and would survive a little cold.

Elinore’s palm was sweaty on both the pistol and the lamp. If she had a scrap of dry fabric or a way to hold both in one hand while she dried the other, she would do it. As it was, she could only keep going.

Her heart thudded in her ears, her breath loud and raspy - she wasn’t a layabout and she quite often went for walks with her friends at school or about town, but it was another thing entirely to be trudging through the wet, mucky ground. Her boots sunk a little on every step and she had to drag her foot up and out with a slight sucking sound as she moved. Though she wasn’t as fast as she would have liked, she was steadily making progress.

When the clouds moved, the moon was sharp and bright in the sky - a pale disk that burned her eyes. The storm continued to blow on. The remaining clouds that passed over the moon either cast strange and unnatural shadows before her or left her in the dark.

She shrugged her shoulder, trying to dissuade the ache that had settled in. She’d poked a bit at the cut on her arm before setting off, assuring herself that it was fine, or rather, it was fine enough for the journey. It did not appear to be bleeding profusely and she could have it looked at as soon as Thistle was rescued and she was safe and warm. Oh, in that moment, how she longed for the small parlor of her parents’ house. On a night such as this one, she would be curled up with a book, creating stories in her head with which to regale Charlotte over tea the next day. As it was, Elinore could hardly make out the ground in front of her and she stumbled now and then, not having seen a small dip or a puddle of water.