Rowan and Rue

Rowan’s legs shook. Stretched out in front of her, braced stiffly on the worn wood, they were beginning to cramp. Rue leaned back against her, shuddering ever so slightly, her silent tears soaking into the hand Rowan held lightly over her sister’s mouth. Her lungs burned; she didn’t dare breathe. A twig snapped, leaves rustled. They were all around, searching, waiting for the slightest sign. Her own ears strained, tracking their movements in her head, her eyes wide in the dimness. Suddenly she slipped, just a little, and cloth rasped on wood. Her teeth clenched in fear, she pressed her back hard against the wood, forcing her aching legs to freeze, keeping her and Rue aloft.

One stopped, just outside their hiding place, as if he’d heard the noise. He paused, his heavy breath harsh in her ears. Rowan could imagine him, one hand resting on the tree, a skull mask covering the left half of his face, his body painted black and yellow, stained with drying red, looking around the old forest balefully. Abruptly he stomped his foot—Rowan could feel the tremor traveling up the trunk of the hollow tree—and lifted his voice in a howl of garbled words. Rue whimpered and Rowan tensed, sending shoots of pain down her legs. But the soft sound was seemingly lost in the noise of his unholy shrieking, his fists beating on his chest. And then the forest rang with it, all of them screaming and bellowing in their mangled, alien language, their feet stamping against the ground. Rue choked on a terrified sob, and Rowan swallowed hard.

    Just as unexpectedly as it started, the awful screeching stopped, though they continued to yell and laugh as they exited the forest, taking the sun with them. It was as though it had witnessed all that it had to and now it was going to hide its face, abandoning the world, plunging everything into further darkness. Slowly the woodland fell silent, and she could no longer feel their tainted presence. Still Rowan waited, barely breathing, loose strands of Rue’s hair tickling her face. She didn’t want to take any chances; she wanted to make sure that they were really gone, but she was so tired…suddenly her legs gave out and she plummeted to the ground, her back scraping against the wood, legs knocking together. She landed hard in the dirt, adding bruises to her growing list of pains. Rue tumbled off her lap to lie in a quivering heap. Groaning, Rowan pushed herself to her knees and placed a gentle hand on her little sister’s shoulder.

“Rue,” she murmured softly. Rue lifted her tear stained, dirt smudged face. “Come on. We can’t stay here.” Rue nodded, her eyes wide and fear filled, her lips trembling with the threat of more tears. Rowan bit her lip and hugged her sister hard before pressing herself to the ground and wriggling out the hole at the base of the tree. The jagged edges of bark and wood abraded her already abused back; she was getting too big for it. In another year or two, she wouldn’t fit. Not, she supposed, that she’d ever come back. She stood up, brushing herself off through habit as she looked around the dim forest. Rue followed, her small frame worming through with much more ease.