Chapter 24: Desperation
When Erin woke, he was tied up, and laying on the cold ground. He could smell something delicious from the pot, which he could see from the corner of his eye. The pot was big. As big as a bathtub. Suddenly, his mind began to race.
If the pot was this big, did it mean that he was going to end up in it? Will the witch cook him alive? He didn't want to die! This time, he couldn't count on Lysander to save him. Erin had to finally fight for his life.
"Awake already?" Came a raspy voice from the door. "I went, and got all the spices I need for you. Now, you just need to take a bath."
With this, the witch confirmed Erin's biggest fears. He blinked back tears.
"Ah, none of that. I don't want snout in my broth," the witch scolded. She took out a cleaver, and then began to walk towards Erin. "A little cut, and you will be asleep once more."
"I am not tasty," Erin said, as the witch began to sharpen her knife. "I am sick. You will get sick, too, if you eat me!"
"Sick?" The witch chuckled then. "I haven't eaten in months, little boy. Do you think I care, if you are sick?"
"But, you will get tears on your lungs," Erin said the first thing, which he could come up with. He remembered that there was a man, back in Brier Village, who smoked. Then, the healers came one day, and told him his lungs were black, and had tears on it. Erin had never known what that must feel like, but he knew, from the fact that the man stopped smoking the same day, it must be a big deal.
"And what is your sickness called?" The witch was humoring him, that much Erin knew. Yet, he knew of the name of the man's sickness. So, he spoke.
"Burning lungs," he said, remembering what his mama had called the sickness.
"So, you smoke?" Why was she so calm, in the face of such a terrible disease? Erin had to think fast. If he couldn't scare her, perhaps he could try to butter her up?
"Don't eat me, and I will serve you. Your house is dirty. I can clean," Erin tried. The witch giggled.
"My house is dirty, the little shit says," she said, as she continued to giggle. Erin's eyes were wide. This was a bad word, he knew that. Yet, he felt, that if he demanded the witch, give him a gold coin for a coin jar, she would slit his throat. Now was not the time, to think about manners.
"I can bring you water," Erin tried again. "I know where the lake is."
"I can get myself water, too, you little worm," the witch seemed to get annoyed, and now, she didn't try to appear kind to the little boy. Erin wiggled in his restraints, and then, in a fit of desperation, he began to yell.
"Ly! Lysander! Help, Ly! The witch is going to boil me and eat me!" Erin yelled. The witch giggled, and, in the same voice as Erin, yelled the same words.
"So, I can have one more boy, for the price of one?" She asked, pausing in her sharpening. "Yes, I can use you as a bait, and have more food."
She placed the cleaver down, and went to Erin. Picking him up as if he weighted nothing, she went outside with him. Then, she tied him to a tree, out in the cold.
"Chances are, you will freeze to death out here. But I can always defrost you," the witch then poked Erin on the forehead with her beak, drawling blood.
"Ouch!" Erin said, trying to free his hands, so he could stave the bleeding.
"I suppose, the cold is by far more merciful, than the cleaver. You should thank me, boy," she said, as she hit Erin over the head. Then, she left the blonde out in the cold and dark.
Erin began to sniff, then. If only he head been powerful, less trusting. If he had stayed in the hut, instead of giving the witch water, then he would have been safe. Yet, now, this was not to be.
In a final desperate attempt to free himself, Erin used his mana, to try, and heat the rope. He made sure that the mana was in small strings, and cutting thought the rope, or trying to. Like little blades, the mana went in and out. Not even, after two hours, did the ropes fall. Erin sniffed when he ran out of mana.
"I am useless," he said. "Just a silly princeling."
He refused to call out to Lysander. What if the wind carried his voice? What if his friend got eaten because of him? Let Lysander think Erin has left him. That would hurt far less, than the witch's cleaver on his throat.
Erin bit his lips, and began to shiver from the cold. Yet, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live. Just like how he had wanted to live, when he had been trapped in his room, as his home burned around him.
Erin's little fist hit the tree trunk behind him.
"I am not done yet," he said, as he hit the tree trunk once more. "I am not done! I want to live! I would like to live long enough, to marry Ly!"
Suddenly, Erin could feel the mana of the tree. More than that, he could feel the surrounding water. Water was a great force. Slowly, he used the mana in the tree, to make a blade made of ice. He took a hold of it, and began cutting through the ropes.
When the ropes fell from around him, Erin took as much mana from the surrounding trees, as he could. When he was full to the brim with mana, he looked at the hut with anger blazing in his eyes.
For the first time, Erin felt hatred. All the nasty things that had accumulated, ever since the bandit attack, swam into his mind. He felt his body shift, and soon, he was a golden drake. One with clear blue eyes. Instead of fire, he knew, he would breathe water and ice. With sure steps, the drake went to the house, and knocked.
Chapter 24: Desperation
When Erin woke, he was tied up, and laying on the cold ground. He could smell something delicious from the pot, which he could see from the corner of his eye. The pot was big. As big as a bathtub. Suddenly, his mind began to race.
If the pot was this big, did it mean that he was going to end up in it? Will the witch cook him alive? He didn't want to die! This time, he couldn't count on Lysander to save him. Erin had to finally fight for his life.
"Awake already?" Came a raspy voice from the door. "I went, and got all the spices I need for you. Now, you just need to take a bath."
With this, the witch confirmed Erin's biggest fears. He blinked back tears.
"Ah, none of that. I don't want snout in my broth," the witch scolded. She took out a cleaver, and then began to walk towards Erin. "A little cut, and you will be asleep once more."
"I am not tasty," Erin said, as the witch began to sharpen her knife. "I am sick. You will get sick, too, if you eat me!"
"Sick?" The witch chuckled then. "I haven't eaten in months, little boy. Do you think I care, if you are sick?"
"But, you will get tears on your lungs," Erin said the first thing, which he could come up with. He remembered that there was a man, back in Brier Village, who smoked. Then, the healers came one day, and told him his lungs were black, and had tears on it. Erin had never known what that must feel like, but he knew, from the fact that the man stopped smoking the same day, it must be a big deal.
"And what is your sickness called?" The witch was humoring him, that much Erin knew. Yet, he knew of the name of the man's sickness. So, he spoke.
"Burning lungs," he said, remembering what his mama had called the sickness.
"So, you smoke?" Why was she so calm, in the face of such a terrible disease? Erin had to think fast. If he couldn't scare her, perhaps he could try to butter her up?
"Don't eat me, and I will serve you. Your house is dirty. I can clean," Erin tried. The witch giggled.
"My house is dirty, the little shit says," she said, as she continued to giggle. Erin's eyes were wide. This was a bad word, he knew that. Yet, he felt, that if he demanded the witch, give him a gold coin for a coin jar, she would slit his throat. Now was not the time, to think about manners.
"I can bring you water," Erin tried again. "I know where the lake is."
"I can get myself water, too, you little worm," the witch seemed to get annoyed, and now, she didn't try to appear kind to the little boy. Erin wiggled in his restraints, and then, in a fit of desperation, he began to yell.
"Ly! Lysander! Help, Ly! The witch is going to boil me and eat me!" Erin yelled. The witch giggled, and, in the same voice as Erin, yelled the same words.
"So, I can have one more boy, for the price of one?" She asked, pausing in her sharpening. "Yes, I can use you as a bait, and have more food."
She placed the cleaver down, and went to Erin. Picking him up as if he weighted nothing, she went outside with him. Then, she tied him to a tree, out in the cold.
"Chances are, you will freeze to death out here. But I can always defrost you," the witch then poked Erin on the forehead with her beak, drawling blood.
"Ouch!" Erin said, trying to free his hands, so he could stave the bleeding.
"I suppose, the cold is by far more merciful, than the cleaver. You should thank me, boy," she said, as she hit Erin over the head. Then, she left the blonde out in the cold and dark.
Erin began to sniff, then. If only he head been powerful, less trusting. If he had stayed in the hut, instead of giving the witch water, then he would have been safe. Yet, now, this was not to be.
In a final desperate attempt to free himself, Erin used his mana, to try, and heat the rope. He made sure that the mana was in small strings, and cutting thought the rope, or trying to. Like little blades, the mana went in and out. Not even, after two hours, did the ropes fall. Erin sniffed when he ran out of mana.
"I am useless," he said. "Just a silly princeling."
He refused to call out to Lysander. What if the wind carried his voice? What if his friend got eaten because of him? Let Lysander think Erin has left him. That would hurt far less, than the witch's cleaver on his throat.
Erin bit his lips, and began to shiver from the cold. Yet, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live. Just like how he had wanted to live, when he had been trapped in his room, as his home burned around him.
Erin's little fist hit the tree trunk behind him.
"I am not done yet," he said, as he hit the tree trunk once more. "I am not done! I want to live! I would like to live long enough, to marry Ly!"
Suddenly, Erin could feel the mana of the tree. More than that, he could feel the surrounding water. Water was a great force. Slowly, he used the mana in the tree, to make a blade made of ice. He took a hold of it, and began cutting through the ropes.
When the ropes fell from around him, Erin took as much mana from the surrounding trees, as he could. When he was full to the brim with mana, he looked at the hut with anger blazing in his eyes.
For the first time, Erin felt hatred. All the nasty things that had accumulated, ever since the bandit attack, swam into his mind. He felt his body shift, and soon, he was a golden drake. One with clear blue eyes. Instead of fire, he knew, he would breathe water and ice. With sure steps, the drake went to the house, and knocked.
