Golden light slipped through the waterfall, touching Dydra's serene face. Her lashes fluttered open, the sunlight catching her blue eyes and giving them an almost glass-like gleam. A soft yawn escaped, cut short by the sting on her cheek. She rubbed it instinctively, recalling Jerry's strike.
"Ow," she whispered, trying to rise, but a weight on her lap held her down. Only then did she notice Speed's head rested across her legs. A soft smile curved her lips as she stroked the mare's crest, nudging its head off her thigh. She tried again to stand, but her legs betrayed her, forcing her to slump back against the boulder.
"Ouch," she moaned. Speed tilted her head, helping her regain balance. Dydra debated staying, the cave offering safety, but hunger gnawed relentlessly. Could the masked men still be searching for her? She shivered at the thought, yet knew she couldn't remain here.
Taking a steadying breath, she and Speed stepped from the cave. Sunlight fell sharply across the forest, forcing her to shield her eyes with a palm. She scanned the surroundings, alert to every sound. After a brief search, she stumbled upon a bush brimming with berries. Her eyes sparkled as she plucked handfuls, shoving them greedily into her mouth and offering some to Speed.
Feeling slightly revived, she mounted the mare and steered away from the road. Her dress offered little protection from the forest's chill and biting insects. Hours passed under the unrelenting sun, her pace slow, body bent over the horse, muscles aching, stomach protesting. She felt the dry scrape of her throat with each breath.
"I should have taken more berries," she muttered.
Suddenly, the sound of running water drew her attention. She straightened, scanning for the source. A trickling stream appeared ahead. She jumped down, cupped her hands, and drank deeply, savoring the cool liquid. She rinsed her face, clearing away dirt and grime, then froze. Smoke drifted nearby.
Her pulse raced. Could it be a dwelling? She bolted to Speed's side, vaulting into the saddle as she guided the horse toward the smoke. Her heart leapt as the view opened: a low timber-framed cottage crouched at the forest's edge, moss-covered roof glinting faintly in the sunlight.
"Hyah!" she urged Speed, a calm smile touching her lips. She dismounted, brushing her dress and straightening her hair before knocking softly on the door. Silence. A second, louder knock, yet still no answer.
"Hello? Anyone home?" Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her nerves. Darkness and uncertainty pressed at her, making her reconsider. Night was approaching; she couldn't risk sleeping in the open forest.
From behind the cottage, an elderly woman appeared. Her skin was pale as snow, eyes a piercing sea-blue, and her raven hair framed a face of unusual beauty. There was a knowing look in her eyes, both pleasant and mysterious.
"Hello, may I help you?" Her voice carried authority, yet a softness that immediately drew Dydra's attention.
Caught off guard by the woman's presence, Dydra could only stare. Words stumbled from her lips. "Y-y-you… wow." Her mind raced, clouded by the woman's beauty.
A soft laugh escaped the woman. "You're extraordinarily breathtaking," Dydra blurted, then realized the foolishness of her own words.
"I'm Dydra, Madam," she added after a pause, bowing slightly in respect.
The woman smiled faintly. "I'm Oryen," she said, voice calm and deliberate.
"O-Oryen," Dydra repeated, struggling with the unusual name. "What… an odd name," she muttered, quickly realizing she had spoken aloud. She flushed, words tumbling out to cover her embarrassment. "I mean… not odd in a bad way… I just—"
"It's okay, dear," Oryen interrupted gently, a reassuring smile easing Dydra's tension.
Dydra followed her into the cottage. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, a strange force shoved her slightly backward, jarring her. Frowning, she tried again and entered fully, dismissing the sensation as imagination. Oryen's eyes, however, seemed to notice.
The cottage's interior resembled her grandmother's home: humble yet tidy, a hearth room scented with dried herbs.
"Take off your boots," Oryen instructed. Dydra obeyed immediately, sliding her feet into the soft rug. The warmth seeped into her aching feet, grounding her momentarily.
She glanced around. Shelves lined with jars of dried plants, faintly glowing candles, and a small table bearing a brass kettle. The place felt like a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the chaos of the forest and her narrow escape.
"You're safe here," Oryen said, her tone soft but certain. Dydra's hands clenched Speed's reins, remembering the horrors of the previous night—the vampire's gaze, Hugh's cruelty, the masked men chasing her. The bite mark on her neck ached, a sharp reminder of her vulnerability.
"I… thank you," Dydra murmured, lowering herself to a chair near the hearth. Her voice trembled. She could not yet bring herself to recount the full horror; the memory made her stomach churn.
Oryen watched her closely, as if she could see beyond the words. "Eat," she said, nodding toward a plate of bread and berries that had appeared on the table. Dydra's eyes widened. "You must regain your strength," Oryen continued.
With trembling hands, Dydra picked up the bread, breaking it into pieces and nibbling cautiously. The berries were sweet, tart, a balm to her exhausted body. She glanced at Speed, still tethered nearby, and whispered, "You deserve some too."
The mare whinnied softly, and Dydra smiled faintly, stroking her mane. A warmth spread through her chest, an unfamiliar sense of peace after the terror of the past hours.
"I… I don't know how to thank you," Dydra said, glancing at Oryen.
The woman's smile deepened. "Rest now, Dydra. You are safe here, and soon you will understand why you were guided to this place."
Dydra's eyes lingered on Oryen's, searching for hidden meaning. Questions swirled in her mind: What was the vampire's purpose? Was Jerry dead? Did Hugh survive? Why was she singled out for attack?
But for now, the hearth's warmth, the gentle presence of Speed, and the hospitality of Oryen offered a temporary reprieve. She allowed herself to lean back, closing her eyes, and surrendering to a moment of fragile peace.
The forest outside whispered with the wind, leaves brushing together, as shadows grew long and pale. Somewhere beyond the trees, the threats that had hunted her still lingered, but for now, Dydra was not running. She was alive, fed, and—just for a little while—safe.
Her thoughts drifted to Thelmond mansion, to Agatha, to the golden locket resting against her chest. Memories of warmth, of love, and of the life she had been forced to leave behind blended with fear and confusion. Who had she truly become? And who were the enemies she could not yet see?
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of crimson and gold. The cave and the forest had offered only fleeting sanctuary, but now, Dydra knew she had found a place to rest. A place to plan. A place to grow stronger.
She glanced at Speed, nuzzling her hand, and whispered, "We'll survive this, girl. Together."
In the quiet cottage, with the fire flickering and the faint scent of herbs, Dydra finally allowed herself to breathe, to think, and to remember: her fight had only begun. Her fight to survive.