The Woodsman: Chapter Five

He ran like the devil possessed.

She darted down the river, floating, gasping for air, trying to grab onto rocks but having the river’s current sweep her away. At times, she saw him and screamed, and he ran as fast and as hard as he could, chasing her.

He charged straight through thickets and cusps of reeds. He knew he was bleeding; thorns and whipping branches had lashed his face and arms, but he did not care.

He needed to save her before the cold, dark river claimed her life.

He rushed to a point ahead of her, his lungs burning, his heart beating, and splashed onto a rock. He held out his hand and watched her approach.

She grabbed his hand, and he tried to hold on.

Her skin was cold.

Her grip was weak.

Hypothermia was already setting in.

Her eyes stared into his, and she had this look. Let me die; save yourself.

Gods no!

Her hand slipped away, and the river swept her away from him again.

No!

No gods, no!

He turned and ran after her again.

I will not let you die.

He blew through thick trees, jumped over logs, and ran through the mud so deep he should have sunk in. Prayers and the speed of his pursuit kept him from sinking in too deeply, and his boots were nearly sucked off his feet by the pressure.

He crashed through bushes, using his arms to shield his face, the sharp branches tearing at his jacket. It was a miracle he did not trip on a root or rock and fall at his pace. He would not lose sight of her; he could not!

He caught up with her when the side of the river turned into a rocky shore, and he could jump from rock to rock in the eddies alongside the river. She was trying to grab onto rocks, so she slowed just enough for him to gain a little distance ahead.

Her eyes still had the look of death in them.

He swore he would never let her go.

Gods, Goddess, please!

Let her live!

Please help me!

I swear to you, all I have, my life is yours; I give it to thee in return for hers.

Take mine!

Take my life for hers!

He never was a praying man; when his parents died, he said prayers, but they were never answered. He said his prayers when his brother died, but they were never answered. He stopped believing in them and kept his god at arm’s length. There to be respected, but he would never ask for anything again.

And ahead, a log laid across the river, forming a bridge.

He made a dead run for the log, abandoning any attempts to rescue her here.

She saw him run away, and the look on her face turned to horror. I shall only be apart from you a moment-

The words came to his mind, the part that usually comes next, and he wiped them from his thoughts.

I can never say those words, not even to myself.

He bound up on the log, noting some great force pushed it over, and the bark was chipped away by what looked to be giant, sharp daggers in places. Or those could be a spider’s legs.

Most likely, this is how the spiders cross the river.

The log was set deeply into the rocks on this side, and the top of the fallen tree lay wedged between two trees on the opposite side. He tested it with his boot before bounding on top; the bark was wet and damaged, so he should be careful or fall off himself.

He ran along the top of the log, the small branches still attached to the wood whipping at him, before he jumped on his stomach and thrust his hand down into the water as she approached him.

One of the branches stabbed him in the side, and he could tell he was bleeding more.

The rapids carried her closer, and she turned to see him.

Her eyes pleaded with him to save her.

She reached out with both hands.

His hands grabbed hers.

She moaned in pain as his grip did not let go, and the waters pulled at her like a hungry phantom of death. He felt the force of the water jerk him against the log harder, the branch stabbing him deeper. He moaned in pain but turned it into an angry cry of defiance.

“I will not let you die! Not here! Not now!”

He used all his strength and pulled her halfway out of the water, rolling on his side, the branch stabbing him deeper as his weight pressed into it, and he feared falling off the log himself. He forced himself to sit, a deep pain shooting through his back, his hands never letting go, as he pulled her legs from the water and hauled her naked body onto his lap.

He pressed his face to hers and hugged her tight.

Her body was as cold as the dead.

His blood ran across her face as she shivered, her eyes meeting his.

“I got you. Don’t worry. I got you.”

He stared down at the uncaring river of death beneath them, the hiss of the rapids echoing through the cloudy day. Water flowed over rocks, spun in eddies to the sides, and rushed uncaring and heartless through the heart of the black forest. They sat silent for a while, the cold world around them, not caring what had just happened, his sacrifice, and her peril.

Life went on.

He noticed the pendant of the Goddess of Magic between her breasts, the chain unbroken. He stared at it a moment and bit his lips.

Goddess?

I am a man of my word.

Know that.

She shivered against him, and he held her tight.

And thank you.

He stood and carried her off the log. He wrapped her shivering body in his coat and blood-covered shirt and went shirtless as he bled from several minor wounds. He would need to get her back to camp, fast. He doubted they would make it in time.

Against the raised stump of the tree which made the bridge, he placed her on the ground. He gathered bark and small branches, wrapped a dry twig in a green, vine-like plant, and spun it in a few pieces of dry kindling. He cupped his hands and blew into it when it started to smoke, the heat building on his tiny fire. We put more pieces of bark on the smoldering wood, and smoke began to rise. When the first flame appeared, he smiled and built a small fire for them.

He pulled her close to him as he tended his wounds, her body dead cold and shivering, wrapped in his torn coat and stained shirt. She was getting warmer, and he had used the last of his bandages to patch himself up.

The fire crackled and spat off sparks into the air. He rubbed her arms and legs to get the circulation going in them and felt the warmth return to her body.

Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “Th- thank you.”

He wiped his blood from her face as he cleaned her up, keeping her close to him.

“That is the last time I let my modesty put you in danger, Milady. I am sorry. I am deeply sorry you had to go through that. Please forgive me.”

She nodded and stopped shivering as she pressed against him tightly.

“My fault.”

He shook his head. “My fault. Do I, and this shall sound strange, have permission to look upon you, and I promise on my honor not to look upon you in lust as a man would a woman?”

She tried to laugh and wrapped a cold leg around one of his. “Have not you seen all of me? Does it matter, woodsman?”

He hugged her tightly and threw a small log on the fire. “It matters to me. I have honor. You are still a beautiful woman-”

He winced as the blasted word slipped from his lips.

Why?

I am so stupid! I am just a foolish man who knows nothing, raised in the woods, a recluse from society, happier when I am chopping trees, tying them into rafts, and riding them down the river to sell to the town’s lumber yard. Why did I ever move to the city? Join the army? And get my fool self into this?

He knew the answers.

He promised his brother’s wife that he would care for her.

He needed the money for her.

So he left his entire life behind.

And now, his dumb mouth said a word he would likely equally regret.

Beautiful?

A stupid man, am I?

Her eyes rose to his, a knowing look upon her weakened face. The look a woman gives you when she knows better than a man. The corners of her lips raised in her beautiful smile. She ran a hand between the bulged muscles of his chest.

“And you are a very handsome man.”

He stared into her beautiful violet eyes for a moment. The world around them faded away. She smiled, and her dusky blue cheeks took on a beautiful violet hue, and she was blushing. He pushed a wet strand of hair from her face and ran his hand along the length of her long, pointed ear.

She shivered, not from the cold but a warmth deep inside, and her hips squirmed at his touch, knee bending as her leg slid up his thigh.

“Milady, I-“

She pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

“For a human.”

She pulled her finger away, dragging it slowly so it caught his lower lip and let it fall back into place. She ran her hand through his stubble, down his neck, and onto his strong shoulder, her blue fingers kneading stiff muscles.

She moved her head around slightly, searching for his emotions and lining her lips to his.

He lowered his mouth towards her.

She parted hers softly and closed her eyes, her breath soft against his lips.

He drew closer to her, stroking her arms and down to the sides of her chest. He cupped the fullness of her warm bosoms in his hands. Gods, her breasts were beautiful, her body perfect in every way.

Their lips came a hair’s breadth apart.

And the four giant spider children crept silently on the log bridge towards them.