Arrival

it's too late

“Gahh,” I gasped loudly, clutching the thin, wide-brimmed hat to my face in an attempt to hide from the sun. “Must this weather be so suffocating?”

 

Our escort turned to scoff at the ridiculous state I found myself in. He eyed me up and down before his face broke into a toothy grin. “Lady, you signed up for this. What were you expectin’? A fancy lil’ carriage pulled by fancy lil’ horses? Or perhaps, a nice cup o’ tea with a couple-a freshly baked scones?”

 

I glared openly at him, discarding the unladylike message that accompanied my actions. “If people here are as tightly wound as yourself, I do not think myself able to survive for one day.”

 

The man chuckled without an ounce of humor. “Shall I prepare a shallow grave for you then, m’lady?”

 

My boot-clad foot came down hard on the mucky earth, releasing an obnoxious “Squelch!”, much to my distaste. My lip curled in disgust and irritation. I’ve had enough of this bloody weather, and this bloody guide, and his bloody rude comments! I thought viciously as we made our way across the open plain.

 

The sun beamed mischievously down upon us all, causing us to sweat and bat the flies away from our faces. The humid air clung to our skin like a thin, slick outer cover. I tried to shake my hair out and only succeeded in catching a few strands in my open mouth. I sputtered and tore at the hairs clinging to my mouth, the vile, pesky little things!

 

After ten unbearable, torturous minutes, we reached our destination: a quaint farmland occupied by multiple, square farm houses. A little way off was a seeming, never ending line of trees and the heart of the forest among the Black Hills plains. I heaved a sigh of relief and picked up my pace, eager for some ice water and a good rest.

 

The farmland wasn’t anything like my old flat in London. Whereas London was cramped, busy, and always lit, the farmhouse was distant, empty, and shaded. I shifted my hat once again, a nervous habit, and pushed past the rest of my group to the wooden door of one of the houses.

 

I turned the doorknob but it refused to open. I shook it gently at first, then harder, and more violent.

 

“Bloody hell--open up!” I cursed at it, frustrated and more than a little bit frazzled from the extensive journey.

 

“Lady, lady, calm the bloody hell down! Don’t go breakin’ all my doors jus’ cuz you’re too stupid to wait for directions,” the farmer guide lectured me, just as irritable as me.

 

I exhaled roughly and moved aside for him to insert the key. My nails bit viciously into the skin of my palm. I resisted from hitting him over the head and choking him with all my strength. That would only make things worse.

 

Besides, I had better things to worry about. Like my life. And profit. And how I was going to survive in this godforsaken place.

 

What I didn’t know at the time was that I also had to worry about the forest. It harbored my natural enemies. It kept him from my sight. My future killer.

Reviews

[mappingthenight]

What a different tone from the first chapter! I love the contrast between the two chapters. The first being more descriptive, nonverbal and tense (which seems fitting), compared to the dialogue and attitude of the woman in this chapter. Great job!