Lucy Wickshire 145 Chapter Eighteen 5

Sounds of approaching footsteps caused her to look up. She waited as the sound got closer with a frown. Her son did say something about tonight, was he going to help her escape? What was he planning? She wondered. The sound stopped right in front of her cell gate. But she saw no one, not even a shadow. Silence continued for a few seconds, causing her to hold her breathe, as fear invaded her.

"Who is that? Who are you?" she asked the empty s.p.a.ce.

The locks on the gate rattled, causing her to stand up slowly. Soon, the gate swung open and the foot steps could be heard leaving. She let her blanket fall to the floor and went closer as though she did not believe her eyes.

Her son really found a way? That's good! That meant he must have prepared an exit. Where did he say again? The west wing? She knew she had stumbled upon a cottage on a stroll through the capital once. If her knowledge while Queen was anything to go by, the west wing leads directly to the cottage. She hesitated for a second. What if that was not the cottage he was referring to? She thought back, trying to find a time when she had ever taking him into any other cottage in a forest except that one. She could not remember a thing, but time was pa.s.sing. She decided to take the plunge.

On her way, she almost regretted it for a second, when she saw the guard post. But was suspicious when she heard no sound from that side. She peeked out into the hallway, and saw the guards there, but were all pa.s.sed out. She hesitated for a second, wondering if this was also part of her son's plan, then continued on.

On her way towards the west wing gates, she met no obstruction; all guards were pa.s.sed out. She followed the trail of sleeping guards and it led her exactly where she suspected she would end. The west wing gate. This west wing gate was not the same that guarded the palaces west wing. It was the gate leading from the underground prisons to the west forest. It sat at the end of a small and low pa.s.sage, so she had to crouch down to access it. She prayed the gate was not locked as she pushed on it.

The gate swung open, causing her to sigh a relief. She stepped out unto cold dark gra.s.s. The smell of leaves. .h.i.t her nose as she took in a deep breath. She wasted no time, running out into the forest with nothing but the moon light leading the way.

She first worried about finding this cottage she had only seen once; but noticed that the moon light illuminated a path, while other places remained dark. The night had already been strange enough to convince her that this is the path to take. She slowly walked on, feeling tired and hungry. Her only joy was that she had not yet heard the palace bells chime, signalling their knowledge of her escape. They don't know she is gone, so it matters not. She just had to keep going till she reached her destination. She soon saw the sun start to rise. If day light came, who would she find her way to the cottage?

She walked faster while she could still see the illuminated path, but the sun still rose. The path was gone, causing her to stop for a second. The silence of the forest did not help to calm her nerves. She could hear not even a bird, causing her to become alert. She looked around this place, noting it was strangely familiar. She thought about it for a while, trying to find out why. Soon, she heard the sound of a bird chirping. It sounded distant, but she followed it. Hoping to find someone. Soon, she heard cheering. But before she could figure out what it was, an arrow pa.s.sed right by her and sounds of dogs could be heard.

She knew she had been found so, she ran. Her dress kept getting caught on branches, but it never stopped her. She listened those pursuing her, and ran the other way. Soon, she broke out of the forest onto clear ground. Silence invaded her as the sun temporarily blinded her. Her vision soon adjusted and the sight before her caused fear to hammer at her heart. It was an entire entertainment arena filled with n.o.bility and common folk alike. And she was standing at the centre, staring at them stare back.