The Horse in the Prince's Stables

Chp. 8

so guys.. i'm #2 in fantasy, #16 in romance, and #22 on the what's hot list. 

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                                                                                        =8=

=Kaelyn=

          I transformed that night. 

          The familiar dull throb of my bones shifting and breaking... Normally I would have welcomed the pain. It was the only thing that should've felt right and not twisted and depressing like the rest of this nightmare. Tonight however... even my last safe haven had been shattered. My wounds during the transformation had been stretched and bent to accommodate my human body. By the time I was huddled on the ground, my fingers gripping the grass, and with my legs tucked under my body in a kneeling position, tears had soaked my face.

          Gingerly I touched the gashes on my body. The few that had slowly started to scab over, now were reopened due to the transformation process. I felt little streams of blood trail down my skin, and in some places it soaked into the white fabric of my dress, staining it with crimson patches.

         Stupid Drake. He ruined Matilda's hard work. In some spots, the dress was torn; those were the places where his cruel, biting whip had dug into my skin the deepest. 

         I know I looked like a mess. A bloody wreck filled with absolute loathing. I hated that man and his awful whip. He had no reason to beat me mercilessly. I caught the wicked glint in his eyes as he struck me again and again. Drake had no heart, no soul.

         Rubbing my shoulders in a weak attempt to ward off the cool night air, I peered through the legs of the horses, hoping to catch a glimpse of the prince. The black lumps of sleeping men silhouetted against the night sky were all I could see, that along with the lone guard pacing silently back and forth. As I had predicted, I would not be sneaking anywhere tonight.

***

=Philip=

         Our arrival into the plains was exactly how I imagined it to be.

         Boring.

         There was nothing of any interest over the miles and miles of flat ground. We moved along at a fast pace, and we rode for almost the whole day with only a few ten minute stops. The thieves were determined to put distance between us and any potential rescuers.

         A couple times during the ride, the two men assigned to keep an eye on me would jerk on the ropes tied around my neck just for fun. The skin beneath the itchy cords felt raw and tender, as well as my wrists. The muscles in my back and torso had become sore from keeping my balance over the lengthy ride. It was no easy task considering my hands had been tied to the saddle.

         Alex's saddle...

         I noticed a single drop of blood on the hard, worn leather, and a spark of hatred blazed within me. All this anger and frustration built up inside of me, and there was nothing I could do about it. The only thing I could do was to sit and wait for the right opportunity.