Safe at Last

Rowan gently lifted James to his feet, his grip steady and reassuring. James winced, the strain of his injuries evident, but he managed a grateful, if weak, smile. The dense forest around us buzzed with the rustling of leaves and distant bird calls, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. The narrow path we stood on twisted through the undergrowth, barely wide enough for two people, shrouded in shadows cast by the towering trees above.

“How will we get to the castle?”

James asked, his voice strained with exhaustion and pain. Lila stepped forward, calm and composed despite the urgency of our situation. Her sharp eyes scanned the forest before she replied,

“We have a horse-drawn cart waiting just ahead.”

We began our trek. Rowan kept a firm hold on James, steadying him as we navigated the uneven ground. The path gradually widened, the forest thinning out to reveal glimpses of the open sky. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the ground. A crisp breeze replaced the oppressive humidity, carrying with it the faint scent of rain.

After what felt like hours of walking, we reached the clearing. The trees parted to reveal a horse-drawn cart, it's dark wooden frame sturdy and worn. The horse, a sleek black beast, pawed the ground impatiently, its breath visible in the cool air.

Lila hurried to check the harnesses and reins. Rowan helped James into the back of the cart, where worn blankets had been spread to cushion the ride. Once James was settled, Rowan climbed in beside him, and I took a seat next to James. Lila took the reins and guided the horse forward.

The cart jostled slightly as it rolled over the uneven path. The forest thickened again, the trees towering overhead, their branches forming a canopy that dimmed the light. The further we went, the quieter the forest became, as if the trees themselves were swallowing the sounds.

The path narrowed, and at times it seemed like the cart would barely fit between the trees. The horse moved confidently, navigating the twists and turns with ease. The forest changed as we traveled, the trees growing older and taller, their trunks gnarled with age. The cold bit into us, seeping through our clothes.

After several hours, the forest gave way to open fields, and in the distance, the castle loomed. It's dark silhouette rose against the gray sky like jagged teeth, its high walls and towers imposing. The cart approached the castle. the path widened into a cobblestone road. The horse’s hooves echoed loudly on the stones, and the gloomy sky above cast a somber light over the structure. Lila brought the cart to a stop at the massive iron gates. Rowan and James exchanged a glance. A guard appeared on the battlements, raising his hand in recognition.

"James!”
“Princess Isabella!"


Moments later, the enormous wooden gates groaned as they swung open. I glanced at James, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Would we truly be safe here? Would the resistance welcome us after everything? James squeezed my hand gently.

"We made it."

Inside the courtyard, the bustling activity of preparing supplies and tending to the wounded came to an abrupt halt. Dozens of eyes turned to us, the silence palpable. Then, a familiar figure broke through the crowd. Mark, one of James’s old comrades, his beard grayer than the last time James had seen him, grinned widely.

"James, you old fool!"

Mark boomed, wrapping James in a bear hug despite his injuries. James grimaced but returned the embrace. Mark turned to me and bowed deeply.

"Princess Isabella, welcome.”
“You are among friends here."

Relief surged through me as people began to approach, offering greetings, food, and water. A young woman with red hair and freckles handed me a steaming bowl of broth.


"Eat and rest," she said softly.
"You have both been through enough."

James took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the courtyard.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely.
"We have been running for so long.”
“It is good to be home."

The crowd began to disperse. Mark led us inside the castle. The stone corridors were lined with faded tapestries, and the air smelled of burning wood from the hearths. I clung to James’s arm, his exhaustion mirroring my own.

Mark opened a heavy wooden door at the end of a long hallway, revealing a small, cozy chamber. A large bed covered in thick woolen blankets stood in the center, a basin of water and a single window completing the sparse furnishings.

"You will find these chambers modest but safe," Mark said, his voice softening as he looked at James. "Get some rest.”
“The healers will tend to your wounds shortly."

James nodded, though the worry lines on his face remained.

"Thank you, Mark.”
“For everything."

Mark clasped James’s shoulder.

"We are stronger with you here.”
“Rest well, both of you."

After Mark left, I moved to the window, looking out at the forest that had been our only refuge. James sat on the edge of the bed, pressing his hand to his side, wincing as the pain flared.

"We made it," he murmured, disbelief and relief mingling in his voice.

I turned to him, crossing the room to kneel by his side.

"You need to rest, James.”
“Let the healers take care of you.”
“You have done enough."

He smiled tiredly, his gaze softening.

"I would not have made it without you, Isabella.”
“We are a team, remember?"

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, but our moment was interrupted by a soft knock. An elderly healer entered, her basket filled with herbs and bandages. I stepped aside to let her work, watching as she cleaned and re-bandaged James’s wounds.

"You will be right as rain soon," she said kindly.
"Rest is crucial."

James promised to follow her advice. Once she finished and left, I helped him lie back onto the pillows, tucking the blankets around him.

"I will stay with you," I whispered, settling beside him.

James pulled me close, his warmth seeping into me.

"We will rest together," he murmured, his eyes already closing.

Sleep overtook us. The last thing I heard was the steady rhythm of his breathing, a sound that finally brought me peace.