A Snip from the WiP!

ingdom of Castile, Spain, spring 1492:

When Rose finally drifted off to sleep, her dreams were as confused as her waking thoughts had been. She was slipping and sliding through long tunnels, something grey was moving in front of her face, she tried to grab it, but it was a cat's tail, which waved before her then disappeared, and then she was falling, wrapped in a cocoon...

Her eyes snapped open. The rain had stopped, but it was still dark outside. Or was it? As she fumbled in her skirt for her spectacles, she caught snatches of light here and there, shining through the canvas.

She put on her specs, almost dropping them in shock. There was no longer any tent around her, merely folds of canvas, ripped and torn, one length covering her face and the other wrapped so tightly that the lower half of her legs were bound together. She cried out and thrashed about, but the ground moved beneath her feet as she tried to stand, and she collapsed, sitting, onto the canvas, as it dropped away from her head and she saw what was around her.

Blazing sunshine filled a valley that, far off, seemed green and tidy, with sandstone coloured buildings clustered in the centre of colour-filled gardens. At her feet, though, the rain had done its work. The ground was soggy and brown, squelching beneath her feet as she tried once more to stand and free herself. Where were her family, and the ox and cart?

Rose glanced behind her and started to scream. “Ayuda! Help!” She cried over and over, shutting her eyes tightly against the sight before her.

A mountain rose high in the air behind her, covered in mud and upturned trees. The peak was so far above her that it was hidden by clouds. And down the length of the mountain face, for as far as she could see, a groove had been cut in the mud – the channel she had cut as her body slid down.

“Ayuda! Ayuda!” Eyes screwed shut, Rose bellowed as loudly as she could. If she tried hard enough, maybe her voice would carry up to her family. “I’m down here!” Her voice cracked at the last, hoarse with thirst.

She opened her eyes and looked around again. The first thing to do was extricate herself from the tangle of mud and canvas, before the sun climbed higher and dried up the ground. She shuddered at the thought of being wedged in, sealed into a crack in the earth, and latched onto a rock on the slope below her, pushing downward with both hands. The mud popped around her knees, then settled more firmly against her thighs as her canvas-bound legs sank further in. Fear flared inside her. “Ayuda!”

“Over there! I heard a voice!”


(I hope you can all see the same font I can: I used Tolkien font,! Here's a link to a few.)