All Declan could see through the scrubby underbrush was his father's hands, bound together behind the slim oak so tightly that color had already fled his fingertips, leaving them a sickly whitish-yellow.
Declan shifted, trying to see more, but his mother's arms encircled his chest even more tightly, her nails digging sharply into his ribs. "Still!" she breathed, the word quiet but filled with fear. He obeyed, crouching even lower behind the snowberry bush, still staring at the hands. He could feel his mother's heart jittering against his back. He looked to his right, and could see half a dozen faces hiding next to him, carved into identical expressions of terror.
He turned back to his father bound to the trunk, watching those hands, watching the cloud of breath that puffed out from behind the tree, hanging silvery in the frigid early morning air. He was still alive.
Voices- strong, excited voices-muttered at the far end of the clearing, about thirty feet to Declan's right. He hoped they would keep congratulating each other and slapping backs, because he didn't want to know what happened when that all stopped. But he thought he knew, anyway. He knew really, right? This was always going to happen, as his mother constantly reminded him.
Finally, the chatter did stop. Heavy thuds approached them. A pair of boots stopped within a few inches of Declan's hiding place, and he could see that they were the trappings of a soldier from the Gilded Kingdom. Gold paint flaked off the cheap metal boots, leaving behind a glittering trail as the knight walked towards Declan's father.
"Gave us a bit of a chase, but we caught you. The hounds will always catch the fox, eh? But you did quite..."
A phlegmy spitting sound turned the cruel, teasing voice into a roar of rage.
"DOG!" A hard slap rang out in the woods, and the hands spasmed.
The voice came back, softer and more dangerous than before."Want to skip the niceties, eh? Get right to the point? Fine by me."
Declan shifted, trying to see more, but his mother's arms encircled his chest even more tightly, her nails digging sharply into his ribs. "Still!" she breathed, the word quiet but filled with fear. He obeyed, crouching even lower behind the snowberry bush, still staring at the hands. He could feel his mother's heart jittering against his back. He looked to his right, and could see half a dozen faces hiding next to him, carved into identical expressions of terror.
He turned back to his father bound to the trunk, watching those hands, watching the cloud of breath that puffed out from behind the tree, hanging silvery in the frigid early morning air. He was still alive.
Voices- strong, excited voices-muttered at the far end of the clearing, about thirty feet to Declan's right. He hoped they would keep congratulating each other and slapping backs, because he didn't want to know what happened when that all stopped. But he thought he knew, anyway. He knew really, right? This was always going to happen, as his mother constantly reminded him.
Finally, the chatter did stop. Heavy thuds approached them. A pair of boots stopped within a few inches of Declan's hiding place, and he could see that they were the trappings of a soldier from the Gilded Kingdom. Gold paint flaked off the cheap metal boots, leaving behind a glittering trail as the knight walked towards Declan's father.
"Gave us a bit of a chase, but we caught you. The hounds will always catch the fox, eh? But you did quite..."
A phlegmy spitting sound turned the cruel, teasing voice into a roar of rage.
"DOG!" A hard slap rang out in the woods, and the hands spasmed.
The voice came back, softer and more dangerous than before."Want to skip the niceties, eh? Get right to the point? Fine by me."