The Hunt Ch 02 3

The Hunt - Chapter 2

Ascent of A Guardian

I raced down a route I had once followed myself years ago when I was fully human. When I was wholly Angela, I was not the Guardian then; I was simply a girl seeking help, running down the same path. I wondered if I ran fast enough, would I catch myself? That, of course, is absurd, for there was a road that brought me to this course, this hedge, this chase. I recalled it all as I raced after my prey, the journey of pain that led me to this same way those years ago.

***

My eyes felt so heavy; I was freezing cold and could barely breathe.

"Shhh, you're all right, miss." A soft woman's voice greeted me, but her accent was thick. "The men are searching for others, miss, but you are alright."

I slowly came to myself, wrapped in a wool blanket, thick and warm; clearly, it had seen better days and needed a good airing. But right then, it was silk sheets.

"What happened? Where am I?" I was groggy, my memory was blank, but flashes came back to me slowly, as if from far away and long ago.

"You're in my cottage, miss," The old woman came into focus, as did her small home. It was tiny, even cramped, but homey and well kept. Her voice was gentle and kind like Brendalin; I suddenly remember myself. Swiftly coming up, too quickly, as my head swam. "Where is Father? Where is Brendalin!" My eyes searching the small space that surrounded me, I occupied the only bed, a small table, two chairs, a little fireplace with what would have been a cheerful fire at any other time. Now, it seemed the gates of hell. My eyes searched desperately; I willed them to pierce the gloom to find my family.

Again, my protector responded, coming close to hold me in my fear. "They are not here, miss; the men are searching...." Her voice trailed off into forbidding silence. The sound of the fire and my weeping only broke the silence.

The next few days were spent searching the shore, hoping to find something; I had long since given up hope of my family surviving. I recalled the storm, the sound of wood creaking, then breaking, the screams of the few women aboard, Brendalin's efforts to stuff me into the cork vest, then wrapping her own about me as well. I tried to fight her, but she shouted at me to mind. Then, her kisses on my forehead as the mainmast broke. Then water.

Now, I searched the coast up and down. I was picking up driftwood and assorted debris of the ship that was to bring us to England and safety from the horrid war tearing our country apart. That is when I found the small chest of books floating in the surf. Waterproof, it stayed afloat. With it came a flood of memories.

"Pappa, must we go?" I had asked him as he packed the last of his things into the coach that would take us to the port in Boston. "I have all my friends here?" It was a foolish argument; the war was raging, Lee was winning, and Washington would be his in a week.

"Yes, my darling, we must. We have friends in England, and you can go to school there." His lined face showed worry, and he had already made arrangements for his business to be sold, the profits sent as may be. "Perhaps when all this madness is finished, we can return, my darling, but perhaps you will find a handsome young duck or elk who will love you."

"Duke or Earl father." I giggled; he always could make me laugh.

He kissed my forehead. "Go back and finish packing, don't make poor Brendalin do all you work." He swatted my bum and sent me back to my room like I was twelve. I was nearly eighteen, and my birthday was only two weeks away, as I stomped my foot and pouted as I left.

I watched Brendalin pack my things. I loved to watch her work; she was the only mother I had ever known. Mamma and Pappa were in Virginia outside of Washington when I was due. My mother passed from my birth; Pappa had needed a wet nurse. None was to be had, but he found a negress was on the block. She had lost her babes to the Yellow Fever; she was wet, and father bought her. Father hated the whole affair being a Quaker, and when I was able, we went back north to Boston. He freed her immediately, but she loved me and stayed. So now I watched her pack my things, the only mother I had ever known.

"Child, if you do not help me, I will whip you!" The smile on her face told me she would not. I hoped I would have grown to match her beauty, but I never would. I loved to watch her work; her grace gentle movements always seemed like a dance to me.

"Alright, alright!" I smiled back and sorted my books. "Which should we take?" I knew already she would choose the romances; she loved them. "I thought we could leave the primers for the colored school in town. What do you think?" I hoped she would be pleased. I never knew if she indeed was. It was always a hidden shadow in the love we shared, how it had started. I hated slavery more than any demon preached against in church; it tainted the love I had for the woman who nursed and raised me. Now men were dying to preserve and but more to kill that same demon, only a few days ride away, and the outcome was far from certain.

Brendalin stopped, came close, and held my face in her warm hands while looking at me with her searching eyes, "I think that would be lovely, my darling." Her face broke into that perfect smile, broad and welcoming; her dark eyes showed small tears; I never understood why they did. I thought she would be happy for my desire to give away the things of my youth to those who could genuinely use them.

She looked so beautiful, her breasts filled her dress, and her chocolate skin looked so inviting. My heart leaped, and I wanted to kiss her lips. 'Why do I feel like this!' I shook my head. Here I was, lusting after the woman who raised me!

"I just thought they could use them. I wanted to do something...." I went to turn away; she caught me up in her arms.

"Oh, my sweet darling, it is very thoughtful and so generous of you. We taught each other to read with them, and it would be nice to give that gift to others." She gently kissed me on the forehead, brushing away the ever-present blonde stragglers from my eyes. The blood was rushing in my ears; I could feel my heart pounding.

We went together to donate the bundle of books. They were very thankful; the children were lovely.

Now I sat in the cold north Atlantic surf and wept, kneeling in the water that had taken the lives of those I loved, freezing my soul, and I lay across a chest of books. My heart broke into more pieces than could ever be mended. Then, finally, the men brought me back to the little refuge of a cottage. My small box of treasures safely with them, the widow Wynn put me back in bed. I wept again, knowing now there was no hope.

The next day I broke the seal. Father had insisted it be sealed with wax until we made London. I could not wait. I opened it, found my books, and an envelope and bundle of money.

My Dearest Angela,

I have left this for you, just in case. Hopefully, we will laugh about it in London, but I had a dream, well, actually a nightmare. When on that night Brendalin experienced the same, I thought it an ill omen. So I made some provision in the off chance it was to come to pass.

You will find a letter, an offer of schooling at Malvern College. You will do well there, I think. You are bright, and you can be anything your heart desires, little darling.

If you are reading this, and you are alone, remember Brendalin, and I love you very much. Our prayers go with you.

Your loving and devoted,

Father

There was also a note from Brendalin, much the same as fathers, giving me her love; her delicate hand was there, as were the mark of tears. They both knew they would not see me reach London, yet they insisted we go for my protection. I had long thought Brendalin and father were lovers; I also believe he would have wed her if she would have allowed it, but even in Boston, such a marriage would have been looked upon asconce, and by implication, so would I. I can't help but wonder if they would have wed in England, but regardless they are now united in death. I pray they were happy together, with mother in Heaven.

I also found a bundle of banknotes, plus a bank draft and a small pouch of gold coins. All were denoted in pounds sterling. I had no idea what the value was. I pushed two ten-pound notes into widow Wynn's hands and insisted she take them and asked her to help me find passage to London. She was grateful and kissed me as I set off in the wain, I had no idea if it helped her in her poverty, but I hope it did.

That is how I found myself at Malvern, learning how to be a proper English wife, something I for which I discovered I had no desire; I also realized I was now comfortable if not wealthy. My fortune consisted of nearly ten thousand pounds. A small fortune apparently, and if carefully managed, I need not want for much. I studied and was studied. I found that I immensely enjoyed the company of lovely young women, and I certainly enjoyed them.

I discovered the constant need of the upper class to enjoy mindless distractions, something to engage themselves to avoid the emptiness of their lives. I had made the acquaintance of a lovely young girl who was well down the list of daughters and would need some opportunity to find a suitable match, hence her position at school while her parents cleared the decks of her older siblings. Being much younger than I, she latched on to me for guidance and as an American; hence, strangely exotic. With our war going on, everyone peppered me with questions, constantly challenged me to apologize for slavery, and was told how noble the British were for outlawing the odious practice.

All this constant talk reminded me of my beloved Brendalin, and my heart could not heal. Remembering the look of love in her eyes as she forced her cork vest upon me, insisted I wear it, demanding I survive. There was no fear in her eyes, only love, I wish I could hear her words, but the gale blew them away. I wish I could have held on to her tighter, but the waves ripped her from my arms. I wish I had given her my last breath; it would have kept us together; I wish I had torn the vests away and joined her in death, but I had not.

It was during one of those garden parties that I found myself running away, trying to avoid the constant derision and disapproval I always felt, or worse, the fawning attempts at attaining my favor by some noble with a name but nothing else. It was while trying to escape; I found the little gate in the hedge. One that I had not noticed during my walks in this very garden that morning. It was small, too small for practical use, but I went down on my knees, my dress would be ruined, but I would do anything to escape the party.

I found myself on the other side of the hedge. It was beautiful and strange there, some secret hidden garden. I looked around, only to discover the small gate was gone! I searched along the path and found nothing, no entrance, no hidden place--nothing. I am ashamed to say I panicked. I ran along the trail bordering the hedge, constantly looking for the little door. There was none.

"Help me! Is there anyone there," I shouted back through the hedge; surely someone would hear; the party was just over the edge.

"Yes, you have gotten turned around; follow the path!" Came the reply, but further in the forest.

'How could I have gotten so far afield?' I asked myself, but I did not know; however, I knew I was lost, and I followed the voice down the path and deeper into the forest.

"Keep going on; you will be here soon!" The voice was deep and rich, like freshly turned earth. I could not recall speaking to anyone at the party whose voice was so, 'Perhaps someone who came late.' I comforted myself.

"Where are you? I don't see anyone, and I am far from where I am certain I entered," I called back in the direction of where the voice came.

"You are very close, my dear, just a little further, near my pool." So came the voice, gentle and smooth, reassuring like fathers had been when the sky began to darken.

I was lost now, deep within the forest, which had appeared as if the trees had chosen to surround me, I could not recall entering the woods, but I was here now. The path seemed to dive deeply down an embankment. To my left, I could hear the sound of a waterfall, although I could not see it.

I had little choice, the path seemed the most straightforward way, and a person was somewhere ahead.

"Can you help me get back?" I called out, my voice quivering with my fear. "I am lost, and I will be missed at the party."

"Fear not, my dear, you will be where you must be, in a few moments, then we shall see." The voice replied, almost as if it were all around me.

'That makes no sense at all.' I was becoming cross now; my dress was ruined, I was a mess, the plants seemed to reach out and catch on my clothing from every angle. However, I was unscratched, my skirts were in shreds, the bust was shredded, and my corset peaked out in many places, the top of my dress was almost completely gone, and my bosom was on full display! I looked like a harlot! I walked on for no reason I could imagine.

"Please, can you help me! I am lost, and I ..." I shouted as I walked the last few yards along the path.

Suddenly I was in an open meadow, bordering a beautiful lake; it was out of some renaissance masters' work of a fairy world, so beautiful it hurt my eyes. Flowers, plants of all kinds, a light so clean and pure it took your breath away, and air that had never known the lungs of man, let alone his industry. It was a close to the Garden as I could imagine.

"You have arrived, little one." A tall man stood across the lake; he was handsome, I suppose, well dressed, as if for a pantomime or play of ancient times. "Why don't you come across, and we can discuss returning you to your home."

He sat down, and beside him was a lovely garden chaise; I desperately wanted to sit. I had been walking for hours, and I was exhausted.

"How? There is no way across!" I shouted, and he laughed.

"Of course, there is--you swim!" His laugh sounded sad somehow. I could not put my finger on it. "It is not deep, nor is it cold; it will refresh, you will see. You will feel wonderful and quite different once you reach the other side." He beckoned and held up a glass of iced tea! A pitcher and a glass of cold iced tea awaited me.

I do not recall stepping into the water, but I must have He was right. The water felt divine, and it was as if all my pain and hurts were being washed away. So I swam across, and he smiled; his smile was lonely and sad, almost as if he knew a secret that he could never share even when he desperately wanted to.

When I stepped onto the shore, I was naked as the day I was born; strangely, I did not care. Instead, I was proud of my body for the first time in my life; my proud full breasts were more significant than I recalled peaked by large ruby red teats, my hips broader, my bottom firmer, my waist narrower than any corset could have made it, my muscles defined, more robust, more vital, I felt alive!

"My, you are beautiful, my dear." He held up the glass of iced tea, and I took it and drank in one gulp. My body was dripping, my nipples hard, my sex soaking. "You will make a magnificent Guardian." He toasted me and then coughed. He suddenly looked older, much older.

"My time is nearly at an end, my dear, the Source of power has called you here," He coughed, his hair no longer the dark brown it was, but nearly gray what hair there was. "When it is done, you will know your power, but this place has a cost. It is loneliness." His breath was coming now in a wheeze, "Loneliness and hunger. If you would take my advice." His breath now labored, his face wrinkled and worn with time. "Find someone to share this with, I did not, and my time has been a drudgery, I welcome its" He now appeared as almost a skeleton, "end."

Those were his last words, a wind blew, and he turned to dust, carried away up into the air above me; I stood there stupefied, exhilarated by the energy that coursed through me, but still shocked and confused, terrified and excited, what happened I did not know. Still, for reasons I can not explain, I did not feel regret.

***

All this flowed to mind as I bounded down the same trail I had walked lo those many years ago. I was following my prey, the very girl whose presence had caused so much disruption and change in Wonderland. Oh yes, I knew her. She who had toppled a Queen and set up another, she who had challenged the order of things, well and truly made things a mess, at least from the perspective of some. Yet, I was ready to enjoy her, and I would

relish

for as long as I chose.

When I recovered my wits after the man's disappearance, I found his journals told the story. He had been a sailor; he had become very ill in his journeys, and his only dream was to return to the love of his bride and children. So he did, but what he did not know was his illness; he also carried, or rather, the rats did. It must have been a horror for him to see his family die of the very pestilence which had nearly destroyed him. First, to be helpless and lose your family in the face of the plague; then to see it spread throughout his city, then his nation, and watch all he loved fall.

His journals told how he intended to go out into the wild and end his life. However, he met a madman, and with that madman, he found an arch, and he found his destiny through that arch.

What shocked me even then was the expanse of time, the last entry dated 1365. It was 1863 when I had been at that party; the man had been the Guardian for 500 years! I had a very long time yet!

His journals also showed something else. Tortured and twisted by his loss, compounded by the understanding that he caused his family's death, that realization had broken his humanity, unlike mine, who had died to offer me a chance at a better life. His family was lost because of his return. They died in pain and despair, while mine perished in love and self-sacrifice. His experience had molded him into a creature of rage and cruelty; I molded myself into a creature of compassion, joy, and pleasure.

I could smell Alice's scent strongly now; she was bound for my lake. The center of my power!

With my will, I formed the lake house years ago. But, unfortunately, I never discovered where the man had denned. I was not sure I wanted to; his form had been a wolf, some monstrous creature who had been angry at his losses in life, and the fountain of magic had brought out the worst in him. His journal had ended only a few dozen years after his acceptance by the Source. He would feed often consuming his prey--a dreadful thing that had horrified me from the jump, a sin that I had not repeated.

No, I might take and enjoy my food, but my meat was simple unthinking creatures, and even then, I was not cruel, nor did I enjoy the work of it; it was necessary.

I sensed Alice had taken refuge in my lake house den, and like any rabbit, had sought the safety of the dark in the rooms beneath.

I smiled and quickened my pace, 'foolish child, that is where I play.'

My pulse raced, and I looked forward to finishing the hunt and the beginning of my pleasure in lovely Alice. To feed myself, and replenish the Source of power for that kept all of my domain alive. In moments I stood in my meadow, the one that bordered my lake, and lead to my den. The scent of Alice's arousal perfumed the air, her fear long since subsided and buried by her excitement. My door hung wide open, and the breeze carried her aroma of sweat and her soaking sex. I stepped through my door, a slight squeak of floorboard drew as frightened and excited gasp I could hear through the floor. I could not resist the smile that I wore as I approached my stair.