Hunger Lust Chapter one

Day One

My dancers feet, scratched and scarred and dripping with blood from running through countless thorns and thistles, move as nimbly as I can possibly make them over the sharp rocks that cover the forest floor. My head throbs painfully from the all too sudden collision it had had with the imperial guards thick fist. My vision fades in and out as I run, throwing my balance off completely every now and again. I barely avoid falling over, rushing past the primroses and nettles that decorate the border of my father’s land. I run as fast as my lithe, rain drenched body can go, cursing the sudden downpour as a bad omen. As I narrowly dodge a sleeping rattlesnake, the booming voice of the imperial guard barks threats at my heels.

“COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE MAGGET! YOUR FATHER WILL HAVE TO TUCK YOUR PUMMELED REMAINS INTO BED AT NIGHT AFTER I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!” My heart skips a beat at the mention of Father; alone with the imperial guard. The dangerous imperial guard. I stop running despite my urge to escape with my life, turning around and walking back towards the danger. The wind blows urgent whispers in my ears:

"Do not proceed farther. Turn around," it whispers, "turn around!" I bite my lip out of nervous habit. I desire to heed natures warning…however, despite my raging headache, I am fully aware of the enraged curses in front of me, and I can hear the distinct cracking of a whip striking the ground with a sick snap ever so clearly. But I would never let father suffer the wrath of the King, who so suddenly wishes me dead on this night. Taking a shaky step forward, I clap a hand immediately over my mouth to quell a scream of pain. Looking down and lifting my foot, I notice fresh blood drip from a large u-shaped gash in the bare skin. Broken glass? In this forest? Odd.. Setting my foot down away from the thorns, I put my head in my hands and groan, desperately trying to ignoring the stinging. If the imperial guard doesn't catch me first, I'll finish myself off by accident.. Ugh. I'm going to die tonight. I just know it. A sudden barking catches my attention. I listen in silence for a few seconds. A second wave of vicious growls confirm my fears.

They've brought hounds.

“Oi! The mutts 'ave caught the brat's scent!” I feel my feet move without my say so, sending me rushing off in the opposite direction. They truly wish to kill me..They truly......Truly...

“AHHHHHH!!” I let out a scream as my foot catches onto something hidden, tripping me. I fall forward, tumbling down over sharp rocks, uprooted thorns and fallen branches. I hit solid ground with a thud.

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I wake up in pain. Excruciating, and all over pain.

I cringe when my left eye I refuses to open. I touch the skin around it; it's swollen and it touching it stings. I retract my hand and try to sit up, being successful on the third try. Ow.. With my good eye, I examine my surroundings. I am in a place with overgrown trees, tall enough to block out the moon. The ground is flat and slightly muddy. To my left I see a lone tree stump, surrounded by white lilies.

How fairytale-like..

Wanting to sit somewhere peaceful, I test out my legs. The right one seems to work fine, I bend it a few times and nothing hurts. My left leg however seems sore. I rub my muscles, retracting my hands as I reach my ankles. A sprain. And a bad one at that. Groaning at my immense amount of bad luck today, I resolve to drag myself over to the stump by hand.

-----

“Holy mother..“ I gasp out loud as I pull myself up onto the stump, wincing at the pain in my leg and lower body. Sitting in peace and silence, my mind wanders back to the imperial guard, and how I'd even gotten into the horrible mess.

-----

My father runs a small fruit farm on the outskirts of the kingdom, we don't sell a diverse selection of fruit. But we are the only fruit farmers in the land that sell apples, the kings favorite, so we do very well. Sitting in the dining room with my back up against one of the walls, I turn the page of one of mothers favorite books: Snow White. I laugh quietly to myself, tucking a few loose strands of black hair behind my left ear. When we go out to market, Fathers friends tell me I resemble Mother. Apparently, she looked like Snow White herself. Black hair, pale skin and blue eyes. My hair is much shorter than Mother's however; bobbed and less smooth to the touch. My skin also has a slight tan from my working in the sun. I turn another page in the book and sigh happily. It's going to be another quiet, peaceful year. I just know it.

“Son?” Father calls to me from the kitchen. I set my book down beside me and stand, joining him with a smile. He doesn't return it. Father is taller than me by a foot, with short, chestnut brown hair and green eyes. He has a farmer's body, and the same light tan I have from working in the fields.

“Is something troubling you Father?” he nods, eyes filled with worry.

“My son... Have you done anything to upset the King?” Surprised, I bite my bottom out of worry.

“Not at all. Why do you ask?” Father sighs, his brows furrowing, then motions that I should go outside. With Father a few steps behind me, I exit our cottage and walk over to the man standing by a large, beautiful white horse. The man is very large, with red hair and black eyes. He wears the kings seal, a sparrow, over his silver armor and carries a sling full of what seems to be royal scrolls. I gasp inwardly. Why is the imperial guard here? I turn to father, who seems to be just as confused as I. Bowing my head respectfully, I ask Sir Lawrence for the specifics of his visit. Instead of answering, he scowls at me and asks me for my name. Once I give it to him he smirks, fetches a scroll from his sling and unrolls it.

“By order of King Leon the third, his esteemed royal highness,” Father moves to stand beside me, a grim expression on his face. “The only son of Phillup Briar,” Father tenses, both of us realizing the imperial guard is talking about me. “Has been sentenced to death for reason of treason against the royal family.” Enraged, Father pulls me back, standing between me and Sir Lawrence protectively.

“Hogwash.” The two glare at each other. “My son is still a child of thirteen years. What 'treason against the royal family' has he committed?”

“Murder.” I gasp.

“But there's-!”

“There is no way you are going to scapegoat a death in the family as a peasant farmers son committing murder.” Father interrupts me, standing firm despite the much larger physique of Sir Lawrence. I huddle closer to Father as the two men glare daggers at each other.

-----

“Well aren't you cute?” a deep, velvet voice interrupts my thoughts. The voice came from the left, so my gaze adjusts towards it. A large shadow comes from behind the trees, making it's way towards me. I tense up, more so because I am unable to run if the shadow is dangerous than fear of the shadow itself. Suddenly, I hear growls coming from the dark. My heart skips a beat. Wolves? Now?!

“Sir! Can you hear that?” I call out to the shadow, my voice a bit desperate. “I c-cant walk-” I don't want to die. “Will you..Help me?” I feel close to tears. This has been the worse day of my life. “Please?” The voice doesn't respond with words...but with chuckling. Deep, morbid, ominous chuckling that send shivers down my spine. Suddenly, the shadow steps close enough to be seen. Instead of a man stepping from the darkness...

The wolf. I seize up, a small cry escaping my lips. B-But then..who was talking? The wolf itself? I chide myself inwardly, unsure of my own sanity.

“Funny thing really..” my breath hitches again. The voice had come from the..the.. “The damsel in distress begging the villain for help.” More laughter. And then suddenly..Crack.

-----

Before me stands a man in extremely tattered clothes. It is too dark to tell his exact appearance, but I am certain if one key detail. This man had just been the talking wolf. Frozen, I stare at him in awe as he steps closer. He sniffs the air, then makes a show of licking his lips. He grins, baring razor sharp canines.

“So it was you who's blood smelled so..delectable...” Suddenly, the man bends down to my level, grabbing my arm and forcing it to meet his lips. His breath is hot fire against my skin. Smirking, he licks my flesh from the base of my wrist to the start of my shoulder in one long, drawn out motion. His tongue is forked and I can feel deep ridges. I feel shivers ripple through me from his touch; giving me wicked gooseflesh. I try to jerk away from him but he pulls me back with a sharp tug of my wrist. I whimper as his nails dig into my flesh, breaking the skin. He laughs at me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and sniffing it, inhaling what I assume is blood and dirt.

"You smell like fresh meat," he says suddenly. "You smell like you expect to be killed and eaten alive. What kind of little boy would run around this forest smelling like that?" He licks me again, this time on my lips. “And you taste like ambrosia.” He rolls his ‘r’s as he speaks, purring his words into my ear as if they were compliments. I shudder as I am pulled even closer to him. “Lucky me..I usually don't get to eat meals that are so..cute.” He nibbles on my ear, holding me in place by grabbing hold of my shoulders. Another soft cry escapes my lips. This is too much. “Hey kid..” he nuzzles against me and I cringe. “What's your name?” I manage to shake my head.

“N..No..” Chuckling darkly, he lifts me up into his arms, then promptly throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Why not?” He starts to walk us deeper into the forest. “Tell me..I like knowing who I'm eating.” My heart seems to stop. “Makes it so much more...Personal.”

This man is going to eat me.

This man is going to eat me.

This..I...

I am going to die.

“So why don't you tell me your name cutie pie. I'll tell you mine too.” I feel tears threaten to fall, stinging my eyes.

“No..I don't...I don't..”

I don't want to die.

I struggle suddenly, wanting to at least go out with a fight. Sensing my intent, the man digs his nails into my back so deep it makes me cry out in pain.

“AHHHHH!!” He doesn't let up.

“Tell me.” his voice is firm.”

“Ahhhh!”

“Tell. Me.” Tears really do start to fall, more from pain then anything else, so my voice comes out like sobs.

“Hayden! My name is Hayden Briar...” his nails retract from my back, and he pats the wound in mock reassurance.

“Hmph. Nice name. Hayden huh? My name is Adam. And I'm the last thing you'll ever see.”