Wild ( Ch 1- 4 )

Ch 1 - After Johnathan

Kyra limped back down the corridor, her flesh burning still, hot and bruised in the places he had struck her. His games were difficult to follow... If she struggled or cried out, he would beat her until she lay silent, but if she let him have his way, he would soon grow bored and dig his sharply filed nails into her tender flesh, until she either fought of bled. Limp... Limp... Limp... The blood ran slowly down her leg and she struggled to divert her thoughts. Maybe the horses would still have their bran mash by the time she got back. They didn’t seem to mind that she stole bits of their food. Master Hawk had done all in his power to break her spirit over the months since she arrived. He beat her until she was bloody and stiff, he summoned her every night, leading her into his chambers, and if she refused his advances, he would rape her brutally. His huge hands groped and pulled at her young skin, and if her eyes still held pride, still held the burning rebellion, his sharp nails would rake deep grooves, leaving crimson marks for days to come. If she cried out, he would stop, changing his hand to clamp over her mouth, growling for silence, with a voice that begged for screams. And if she stayed silent, his hand would lash across her face, his proud ring tearing her cheeks. The first few nights she refused to show her pain. Not a squeak did she make, and when he kicked her out, she left with her head high, back to the cold stables where she slept.

He was trying to prove that he was better than her, trying to break her spirit by destroying her body. And now he gave new orders. No meals to be given to her, until further notice. It had been almost a week, and her body couldn’t take much more. All she wanted now was to go back to the stall, steal some bits from the horses, and curl up in the straw among the mice to recover and wait for another wretched day of existence to begin. She stopped, her joints aching, her body throbbing in pain and from the stress that had been so brutally and constantly applied. He won... He had broken her...

The scent of roasted meat, fresh bread and vegetables drifted from the room a door away. Saliva flooded her mouth, flushing out the taste of blood, her stomached growling loudly for the first time in days. She shook her head and grunted in pain as she started again down the stone corridor, her footfalls sounding like loud war-drums in her ears. As she slowly passed the huge wooden door that lead to the chamber of the Lord’s brother, she inhaled deeply the succulent aroma, swallowing down a mouthful of spit. The door opened a crack and her body winced, staring at the soft light from inside, her body frozen to the spot. It was prohibited for common servants to be in the halls past sundown, and she knew she could never pass for a chamber maid. She didn’t want another beating, but even as her mind screamed for her to move, her feet stayed planted, and the door swung open slowly.

The girl was a wreck, and she reeked of blood and sex. She stared into his blue eyes like a doe who had spotted the hunter, but too startled to move. She wasn’t the girl who had been dragged into the castle kicking and screaming only a few months prior. Instead, she was just a shadow, like an animal who had been kicked far too many times for far too few reasons. He stepped out in the hallways towards her and she managed to force herself to retreat a step. Moving out of the way of the candlelight, her body was suddenly bathed in the warm glow. William frowned, cocking his head to one side. The thick red blood coated her skin from a wound on her forehead, making it glisten scarlet. He reached out, touching her cheek as she cringed away, the eyes that would once have been proud and defiant now scared and subservient. What had he done to her?

He stepped forward, she backed away, her eyes wild. Frowning, he held out a hand to her, the girl cowering as if he had just lashed at her with a dagger. Slowly he circled towards her right. She shied to the left. One step at a time, he backed her into his own chamber. It was only when the heavy door latched shut that she realized where she was. The fire crackled in its stone cutout, the smell of food made her dizzy. The warmth, the calm, the peace...She started to hyperventilate.

He gave her her distance, standing quietly against the door, his white cloth shirt hanging loose off his broad chest. His breeches were tied around his waist, his belt, daggers clipped to it by their hilts, lay on the oak table of his sitting area. He made no move, his eyes locked on hers.

Her head darted in all directions, her freely flowing blood flinging flimsy flecks towards the walls, crimson drops gathering at her bare and dirty feet like burgundy wine from a toddler’s goblet. Her dress was in shambles; only small spots remained un-dyed by her own blood. Her arms were cut, as were her legs, deep, raged gashes splitting her flesh, blood trickling as the wounds began to clot. She stood trembling, each drop catching in the firelight and shimmering for an instant before it struck the ground, joining the forming pool. Her skin, where natural color could be seen, was sickly white, her body becoming gaunt and boney, though the horse food had sustained her well enough.

He had never seen her so cowed before. And she was afraid... of him... Her spirit had given him strength. To know that a creature could withstand so much abuse and still remain proud…. She had put his life into perspective. Unwittingly she had gotten him through more of his own problems, just by being rebellious. Now it was his turn to help her. A tickle rose in his throat as he watched the she-animal search her surrounding, for a place to flee, for a way to fight. He forced it down, afraid of startling her. The feeling was excruciating, the woman was panicking. He could see it in her eyes. She was terrified of him, of his touch. She was anticipating another beating, another rape. She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t attacked her yet. He coughed.

Her head snapped to the noise, and she made her decision in a split instant. She snatched a dagger from his belt on the table and leapt at him. He caught her, her weight knocking him against the door. They grappled for a few seconds, muscles straining. As she swung the blade at him, he caught her by the wrist. Their eyes locked, hers wild and afraid, his hard. Hard, but not aggressive. Hard, but not amused. Hard, but not cold, not abusive, not painful. They lacked the hatred the other men’s eyes held, lacked the lust, the longing, the violence. She couldn’t break her gaze, and as the dagger tumbled from her fingertips, his massive fist enveloping her wrist, she felt her knees begin to buckle, her mind slipping. The exhaustion overwhelmed her.

Her eyes rolled back into her head and her body sank. He eased her to the ground and sighed, picking up his weapon and setting it back on the table. With a low sigh, he leaned out his chamber door. A maid was casually wiping up the droplets of blood from the tan stone floor.

“Madelyn, please fetch my surgeon.”

The maid looked up sharply, “Yes my lord. Are you injured, sir?”

He started to reply, to tell her he was perfectly fine, but the image of the bleeding, terrified girl sent a pang of pain into his heart. “…Part of me is.”

She studied him, then nodded her head. “Right away, Master.”

A short time later, the doctor rapped on his door, satchel in hand. William let the small, rotund man in, greeted by a steady stream of chatter.

“Good evening, Master. My, my, whatever is ailing you? Your face is so drawn. My wife was less than thrilled. Geoffrey has left to become an apprentice, and this was the first time in thirteen summers we could really be alone, if you know what I mean, ha ha! Now, what be it? The old shoulder again? A cough? No, no... How’s your urination? Regular? No pain? Ay, I remember that pesky inflammation, it came about this time last year, correct? Not too pleasant neither if I remember your expression correctly! Haha! That’s a joke, dear boy! Smile! Ahhh, but I digress. What troubles you?”

William sighed. “T’snt me, good man. It’s—“

“The dog again? Did that infection in his paw come back? His tail not got his usual wag? Up up man! Tell me! Does he have a tick? How bout a twitch? What about—“

“It’s a girl…”

That shut the doctor up. “A girl?” A sly grin slid across his features. “I get ye... Afraid you won’t be able to get it up, eh? I’ve got just the thing.”

The Lord’s face went scarlet. “Wha? NO! Not... Not like that... She’s hurt...”

The doctor frowned, seeming a little disappointed that he couldn’t help his master with a sexual dilemma. “Oh... alright then. Show me to her.”

Kyra was laying on a sheet, taken from William’s bed. She was deathly pale and barely breathing. He had wrapped the sheet over her, only her head and shoulders visible. Even unconscious she was tense. The white cloth was already patched in red.

“My Lord, I have never seen a lady lay so still in sleep. Where did she come from?” He unwrapped her, shaking his head at the extent of her wounds. “What a pity... What beast would injure a woman so badly, the flesh cannot be seen through the stain of the blood?”

William stood back, diverting his eyes as she was cut from her dress. “My brother. She is his slave.”

“A slave?” The doctor say back on his heels and looked her over. “A slave... I see. Well, Master... I suggest you summon your strongest guard. Preferably one who you think could successfully snap her head from her shoulders in a single attempt.”

“What?!”

“Break her neck. She’ll be dead before she knows what hit her.”

“Wha? But—“

“My Lord. Putting her out of her misery is the most humane thing to do. She’s only a slave. You can’t get close to a slave, not like you would your elkhound. Besides, you can always buy a new one.”

“No! I’m not going to have her killed like a wild animal!”

“Master William. Listen to me. What do you do when a horse wears out it’s usefulness?”

“You put it out to pasture.”

“William, come now. What do you do if a horse breaks it’s leg? You’ve done this before.” William remained silent. “Answer me, lad.”

He hung his head and muttered.

“Come again, sir?”

“I said... You kill it.”

“Right lad... Now, what do you do when a slave outlives-“

“She’s a human! We can’t just kill her!”

“William, she’s a slave.”

William looked away, then to the form laying on the sheet. Naked, she looked even more pathetic, her ribs visible under her tainted flesh. “What would we have to do to save her?”

The surgeon sighed and shook his head. “..You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

His master nodded.

”Alright... I’ll sew her up. Instruct one of the other servants to mix her bread with water from now on. She’ll be able to eat the paste.”

“But that won’t sustain her, will it? She’s sick...”

“She’s a sick slave, William. I doubt she’ll live long enough to recover. But I’ll sew her back together. Only because I’ve known you since you were a spark in your mother’s eye. And I haven’t let you down yet. So I shall fix her, and you shall take her back to the stables. Alright?”

William nodded. “Alright. You’ll stitch her up.”

Chapter 2: Wild

William stood back watching, his palm resting on the head of his large dog. The doctor had worked non-stop, sewing, cleaning, stitching. William was worried that he would do a poor job, but the man took pride in his work, the stitches were tight and the scars would be thin. Finally, the surgeon tied the last bandage and rested her back on the sheep-skin blanket, looking up at the flames in the fireplace. He sighed and sat back on the ground beside her.

“She’ll be alright… Right?” William asked anxiously.

The doctor’s voice was dull, tired. “No promises, sire. I cleaned up some of the older ones as well. She was worse than I thought. Still, it was a nice change to mending sprained ankles and torn knees.”

“But will she be alright?”

The man didn’t look up from the flames. “It’s not wise to get attached to a slave. Especially one so wild as she is. She’s not very strong, and all this work may be in vain. Now William, listen to me. Take her back to the stables. Let the other servants care for her. She’s not your responsibility. You saved her life, you’ve done more than anyone else would have done for her. Now it’s up to fate. I’ll tell tem to mix her water and bread. She can use the old horse blankets. Don’t keep her here, William. She’s not like you and I. She’s wild. She’ll kill you without blinking.”

William studied them both, his elkhound panting and grinning under his hand. Kyra was bandaged tightly, her skin still pale, but no longer stained maroon. She hadn’t moved during the entire operation. Thin and weak, this was probably the only rest he had had in a warm place for a very long time.

“It’s too cold outside. Besides, moving her will disturb the horses’ sleep. Tomorrow.”

The surgeon covered the girl with a clean sheet and stood, his back still to the other man. “… I know you, William. You already have your mind made up, don’t you?”

“I told you… I’ll put her back tomorrow.”

“’Tomorrow’ will never come. Alright, Will. Let her eat the bread paste when she wakes up. If you still have her when the wounds heal, take the stitches our with a small razor. It’s late, William.. I shall retire for the night, if you have no more need of me.”

William nodded. “Thank you, my friend.”

The surgeon bowed. “Good night, m’lord.”

With that he left, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. William turned to the girl, watching the shallow rise and fall of her breasts under the white cloth. He shook his head lightly, then stepped over her with extreme care, crouching on her other side to tend the fire. Faintly, he could hear the early cries of the roosters in the village below. The sun would rise soon. He shook his head again, this time accompanied by a tired sigh. He had devoted his night to a girl he didn’t even know. And she was not even of noble blood. He looked into the embers, his eyes heavy and tired. Turning, he looked down at her again, watching her rest. This was going to be a long day.

Ch 3 - A Day's Plan Ruined

Johnathan Hawk stood in the garden courtyard, frowning. Was William not aware they were to meet here after morning meal to head out for a round of dove-hunting with their falcons? He had cleared his entire day schedule for this. He shook his head, watching quietly as one of the servants came towards him from inside.

“M’lord. Master William shall not be joining you this morning.”

Johnathan studied her suspiciously, “And why not?”

“He is ill, Master. He would not take his meal at dawn, and he looked a deathly fright. The surgeon has been in.”

He growled, starting for the grand hall. “This had better be serious.”

The maid stopped him with a palm on her chest. “He asked not to be disturbed, my lord!” He sneered at her, his eyes flashing dangerously. She quickly removed her hand.

“I see… Get out of my sight.”

She bowed low and backed away.

Johnathan stood alone, frowning, glaring, seething. Sick? Sick?! How could he get sick today? Hey only had one day a week to actually do something together. Besides, next week they wouldn’t have that chance. Trade was slipping with a neighboring realm and he was to leave in the morrow to ensure peace between their lands. He was irritated to say the least. Dove hunting was a bore without his brother.

“And if I had known he would carelessly fall ill, why I would have found a partner for sparring or boar hunting or… or… Damn you William! What am I to do now?”

He stood in the courtyard, looking around dully. His beautiful day was ruined, his good mood spoiled. He wanted to vent his frustrations, and he would do so.. in the way that pleased him most.

Meer minutes later, Johnathan Hawk strode into the stables. He smirked cruelly as he spotted the familiar form, his teeth glinting in the cold light of the barn. The girl didn’t notice him, which wasn’t unusual. The area was silent, save for the occasional sigh of the horses, and the soft grunts of the woman as she mucked out the stalls. With a snarl and a burst of speed, he grabbed her from behind, pinning her to the wooden door. His fingers latched around her throat, his hand raising to smash across her face and…. He froze.

“You aren’t her! Where’s the other girl?”

He released her and she fell to her knees, groveling before him.

“I’m sorry master!”
“Answer me!”

“Sh-She did not return last night, M’lord! No one has seen her.”

“Didn’t return? Are you telling me she did not come back last evening? She was not in the hay this morning? She did not go to work when the sun rose? Where is she?!”

“I do not know, my lord! I do not know!”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“ I don’t know my lord! I sent her to you, master! She must have… have…”

“Have what? She must have what? Speak, wretch!”

“Escaped! She must have escaped!! I don’t know my lord! I don’t know anything!!”

“Escaped? …I see… Get out of my sight… It appears I shall go hunting today after all…”

Ch 4 - The Morning After

While Johnathan was preparing his horses to search our the girl, long after his clothes and supplies were ready for the following day, William was just waking up. Slowly his eyes opened, and he twisted and turned his stiff neck, sighing tiredly. Kyra was asleep near the hearth. She had rolled onto her side in the night, curled up loosely with her back to him. He smiled a little, relieved that she had at least moved. Slowly, tensely, he pulled himself up from the high-backed chair in which he had spend the night, the soft blanket made of wolf pelt slipping to the floor. He stretched, his spine popping. Carefully, he approached the sleeping girl, crouching beside her. She was breathing softly, the sheep skin quavering with each breath. He reached out to her, gently shaking her shoulder. She didn’t react. He shook her harder, whispering softly.

“Wake up child….”

She still didn’t move. He sat back on his haunches and sighed. She was still pale and she seemed to be getting thinner every hour. He was worried about her, praying that the doctor wasn’t right, that she wouldn’t die. He grunted, tired, and pushed himself off the ground. With a slight limp, he went to the door and pulled the silken cord, hearing the bells tinkle on the other side of the wood and stone. His fingers slid from the string and he rested his head against the wall, watching the pewter weight cause the rope to bounce gently up and down, the bell still ringing. His eyes were burning, he was tired… There was a knock at the door.

He opened it a crack and nodded to the maid. “Good morning…”

“Good afternoon sir. What can I do to be of service?”

He hesitated, she looked at him, a glint of suspicion flashing behind her eyes.

“Yes, I am feeling better. Please bring up my meal… In fact… Bring a large helping. My appetite is back strong.”

The maid nodded politely and turned to leave. He looked to the girl laying on the ground and sighed again. He returned to her side and carefully rolled her over, his eyes searching over the cuts, not stitched with catgut. Pulling the sheet over her shoulders, he jumped with a gasp, noticing that her eyes were now open, staring directly at him. He froze in place, his features contorted in surprise. The stiff, cold glare she held on him, her eyes locked on his. Was she dead? His mind started racing. What if she was? Then the doctor was right. But what would he do with her body? And what would he tell Johnathan? She blinked. He let out a low sigh of relief, his body relaxing.

“You gave me a scare, child. I see you are awake.” He ran his fingers through his hair, her eyes followed his hand. He watched her curiously.

“How are you feeling?” He reached to touch her cheek, she pulled her head away, scowling, her lip twitching slightly. He retrieved his hand. She watched him, calming a little, though her face seemed drained of color from even that small excursion. Her muscles were stiff and tense, even a strong man would find it difficult, if not completely uncomfortable to do little more than breathe in her condition. Yet even the simple drawing of hair seemed labored with pain. Her eyes were rolling tiredly, her lids fluttering. He stood again and her eyes snapped open, her body tensing defensively. Steadily he stood over her, until her eyes closed and her body fell back into it’s exhausted sleep.

He frowned, picking up the plate from last night’s supper. Not a morsel had touched his lips, but his elkhound was not laying under the table, looking self-satisfied and licking his chops. He set the empty dishes outside the door and went back to his high-backed chair, his eyes burning around the rims.

There was a heavy knock on the door and he groaned, forcing himself out of his seat. He answered the source of the noise and took the tray away from the confused woman. He shut the door in her face with a tired smile and took the meal back to the table.