Day #31 – by Amber Averay (continued from Day #30):
Mocking laughter swirled about me, pressing in from every direction. The trees seemed to close in, the dirt path shrinking into a narrow ribbon that barely seemed wider than a tightrope. Dark clouds billowed over the horizon, slinking through the woods, filling the sky with inky shadows.
A sudden brisk wind whipped through the branches, bending some almost to the ground and shoving me back a few clumsy paces as brittle leaves began to twist on the air.
My heart leapt into my throat. Breathing became harder than ever, dust and grit sucking into my lungs and burning my windpipe.
It was too much. I couldn’t push through the fierce wind, and somehow the trees on either side of the path were leaning over the narrowed track, creating an arched tunnel through which darkness swelled.
Chittering, squeaking sounds emanated from its yawning mouth, and the wind pushed me back again, the pressure on my pained ankle drawing a choked yelp that got lost in the air.
I squeezed my hands into fists, hair whipping about my head, laughter resonating all around, tears brimming in my eyes. Was this real? Did I yet stand in the weapons room? Or did I truly feel pain, the grit crunching between my teeth, leaves stinging against my skin?
Stay? Go? Stay? Go? Eenie, meenie, miny, mo…
Stuff it! I scrunched my eyes closed, summoned my courage, and pushed into the wind. The gaping maw of that dark, sinister looking tunnel beckoned, just as it sought to repel, and while I fought toward it I questioned my choice. Would it make things better? Could it make things worse?
Tree roots tore from the ground and surged toward me, slithering around my ankles and knotting around my knees. I kicked and batted them aside, gasping, sweating, sobbing.
The odd chittering from the tunnel called to me, and I imagined it called me to the safety of its darkness, cheering me to continue. To fight.
My legs wobbled, gave out. I fell to the ground, scraping my palms on the rough soil, a pained cry croaking from my parched throat. But I was so close!
I ducked my head down, clawing my way over the ground, fisting clumps of dry grass and dragging my way on battered knees to that dark, sinister, enticing tunnel.
The wind picked up. I sank to my belly, rigid fingers tangling in ropey blades of grass, and battled onward. Weakly kicking out at the roots fighting to knot around my legs, I finally – finally – got close enough! I stretched shaking fingers toward the nearest branch, my fingertips brushing over the bark, the wind pushing me away before I could properly grasp it.
Screw you! I mentally howled at the man, the wind, the trees – everyone and everything. Screw you! I will make it!
I closed my eyes, hanging my head in apparent defeat, then suddenly lunged for the same branch I missed before. Fingers wrapped around it, splinters stabbing my flesh, but I squeezed tight and screamed all my pain, my frustration, my fear, my fury, as I slowly, agonisingly, hauled myself into the shady protection of the tunnel.
Until the very last moment, as my toes scraped over the line from light to shadow, the wind never let up, nor did the attacking roots, the whipping leaves, the devious laughter. Then, suddenly, there was silence.
Peace.
Calm.
Thank you, thank you, thank you. I slumped against the wall of the tunnel, exhaustion overtaking me, my body shaking from the effort, I toppled to the ground and felt my face hit the dusty floor. Bullish grunts snorted soil into my nose, explosive coughs ripped from my mouth, and I didn’t care.
I had made it.
I was safe.
My adrenaline buzz disappeared abruptly, and I curled bloody hands against my chest as tiredness crawled over me like a blanket. A voice, oddly proud and impressed, murmured by my ear, How very determined you are. Never have I seen anybody fight so hard to break away, to escape. It chuckled, and strong arms slithered beneath my back and legs. Your resolve is admirable, your mental strength impressive. I was lifted into the air, which strangely felt solid and cold – like a steel bed pressed against my back. The voice chuckled. I knew if I made the tunnel harder to reach you’d fight the more to get to it. You did not disappoint.
A hand brushed the mussed hair from my forehead, and it was almost with affection the voice said, It is almost a shame you can never leave…
You’re mine now, little rabbit.
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