Vixen by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Less Than Three Press
Published: 2012-02-28T05:00:00+00:00

The Thicket

The thicket grew nearly as tall as the tower, obscuring the dirty gray of the stone. Woven between the tiny spears were the loveliest roses Evelyn had ever seen, heavy flowers in deep reds and soft pinks—the kind she just wanted to rub her face against. The thorns, though, didn’t look nearly as welcoming. She eyed them, carefully considering her path. If she was cautious, she could slide through that space there, and beyond that, she was almost sure she saw another opening. She could move slowly, take her time and plan her route. It was no worse than the blackberry patch on her Nan’s hill, and she had navigated those brambles on many summer afternoons.

Evelyn stripped off her pack and laced her boots as tight as she could, tucking the strings close. She considered her shirt next. It was loose at the sleeves and the laces were sure to pull, snagging on every thorn she passed. Shrugging, she stripped down to her undershirt. It would not protect her arms, but it would also not catch and impede her progress. She hoped the tradeoff would be valuable as she rolled her bare shoulders and frowned at her freckled arms. At least she wouldn’t get a burn in the shade of the thicket. She shuddered and thanked God for small favors. She had learned at a young age that her orange hair meant the sun was her enemy; even the faded, watery light of late fall could do damage.

Clothing decided, Evelyn grabbed a dagger, but left her sword. The tower looked abandoned. Nothing but spiders and mice would want to breach the brambles, so she guessed there would be no battle awaiting her. She couldn’t imagine anyone else being as foolish as she, braving the thicket just for a chance to assuage her curiosity and explore the tower.

Anyways, Nan had always taught her never to take a blade to a plant without good purpose. The thicket had obviously been there for years; she would not cut it unless she absolutely must.

It was slow going through the maze of thorns, but every time Evelyn paused and surveyed the nest around her, she always found one more opening. She never once had to reach for her small dagger, and she made slow but steady progress as the sun rose and peaked and began to fall again. There was enough light to see by, and the bramble held the heat close around her so that her breath came thick in the humid air.

The smell of roses was cloying, almost sickeningly sweet, mixing with the scent of the ripe berries that wove themselves amongst the briar patch. It was as though seeds from every thorn-bearing plant had been sown into the soil. She had an uncomfortable feeling that all the different varieties of flora should not have been able to grow in the same patch. There was some magic going on, and her skin itched with it.

When she finally reached the base of the tower, Evelyn checked her shoulders and arms.

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