Rosalind knelt in the woods. She ran her fingers through the pine needles beneath her legs. She sighed a prayer of thanks to the goddess of the hunt, the one who had saved her. Now, she had to start over, begin a new life in a new place. Where had she been taken anyway?
She heard another being in the grove with her. Turning, she caught a glimpse of a bushy tail whisking away into the bushes. Wolf, she determined.
Rosy reached back to her quiver to grab an arrow, but a sharp pain her arm caused her to retract it. She gasped. She had forgotten all about that pesky sword wound. The goddess had closed the wound, but the pain underneath was still there. A thin scar was all any other could see of the wound, but Rosy got a reminder of it every time she moved her arm. Scratch plan A. On to plan B. If she had one.
A whimper escaped her mouth. She held her breath, hoping no one had heard it.[/i]
