I wasn’t sure who had the bow and wondered if it even mattered.
Then it occurred to her.
All this time, she had tried to avoid thinking about what the hunter would do to her, to what end. That realization had terrified her and so she had put it from her mind. But in putting that fear away, she had unwittingly made it the most dangerous kind; the kind that has room to grow and wiggle in the dark.
That thought was written out for her to read; no detour, no misinterpretation, both clear as day. She all but jumped out of her skin, the updraft flinging her into the air.“No,” she shouted before she was even fully aware of it. “No! No fuck, fuck, just fuck off!”She hadn’t even noticed she was crying before the first drop hit the floor below, pungent and dark, treacle-like. She hurriedly wiped her face, concerned she was making a mess of the parchment.
Then became concerned the the parchment was stuck to her frantically rubbing fingers.
Like hell I’m letting you mess with my head, idiot.
As much as it wanted her to read, it didn’t seem to want to open back up for her. She briefly considered ripping it from the wall, but that possibility vanished when she took a moment to compose herself (as though a good cry was something to hide): it wasn’t attaching or sticking, so much as… absorbing? It was just….a part of it now. Like osmosis, but for magic.
Stuffing the rest of it into the back of her mind for later consideration, the first few words on the page caught her attention once more.
The hunter had the bow and wished to make her suffer until she broke. Now, before we get to that part, I have something special planned for you…She wasn’t sure if hope or concern squirmed in her gut as she continued reading.
