Desertion

"We will soon arrive at the capital of Dosdin. Be sure to keep a low profile here. The guards have noses like hounds. And they bite like one as well." Marcin said as he places a protective hand around her arm.

A shiver went up her spine of course everything he has said is an accurate description not only of the kingdom but of the world as well. She clenched her jaw and nodded.

They walked in silence to the inn, the road was muddy. Snow and mud mixing together creating a slippery terrain. Grace and Marcin climbed labored breaths hitching as the sun set over the horizon.

Soon they reached the inn, it was worn, the wood riddled with mold. But she was pleasantly surprised that the inside was appealing, furnished with comfort in mind.

She could see the chairs cushioning was worn the threads protruding in all directions, however she liked the place all the more. It reminded her of home.

Grace took a seat on worn gray chair: eyes casted to the ceiling. It had a rough wooden outlook; the needles protruding from it like swords, gleaming in the sunlight.

With the little time she had to herself she still couldn't believe that these events are happing and she's living them. But she was.

Grace was away from the village that tainted her, that resented her, that hated her. She was finally able to be her true authentic self. She was going to be Grace Blackwood. No matter what.

"Well who is this pretty thing?" A voice said. But before she could react a hood was placed on her, suffocating. Turning her world black.