"Don't go too far, William!" His father shouted out as he and his sister sprinted into the forestry. It was his first time hunting, a gift for his tenth birthday. He hadn't caught anything. His father had told him it was because he and his sister were far too showy, they were scaring away the game, but the siblings couldn't help being so animated. Mother would have never let him go on a violent trip like a hunt at such a young age, "practically a babe" she'd say, shocked. So it was decided as they went on their way that it would be their little secret, and like many ten year old sons and daughters, they treated their entertaining secrecy as something of the upmost importance - mother would not be hearing it from either of them once she came back, no sir. She would be home again in a fortnight, she told them, to celebrate her favorite twins' birthdays. "If you get lost, your mother will kill me!" His father chuckled as he watched them play, shaking his head and recalling the joy he had as a child.
William's sister, Fleur, was just three minutes younger, which caused all sorts of mischief. Whenever their quarrels got too serious, she'd run to their mother in a tearful huff. "You're such a baby" he'd say, "It's clear I'm the firstborn!" He'd declare this in victory before his sister brought out her blubbering. "Only by three minutes" she'd cry as William would stand triumphantly, that is until he heard a stern "William!" coming from down the hall. She always played the crying card, which meant he lost habitually, but that isn't to say they never got along.
Being twins, William and Fleur had a connection that most children wouldn't appreciate. Born together, they were synchronized in thought and in motion. They did everything with each other and nothing when they were apart. When one was sick, the other would lay in the room for hours, talking to them. Even Fleur's handmaidens couldn't get them separated long enough to get her hair done. The children fought and squabbled with the handmaidens frequently, even to the point of leaving a frog under one of their pillows, until finally they came to an agreement. They would teach the young lord to do it for her. They both enjoyed when he did her hair, even when he knotted it for his immature jokes.
As they ran into the forest, Fleur stopped at the edge. Her shoes were uncomfortably rubbing against her ankles, bringing sores. She never liked wearing shoes, but mother would slap her wrist if she didn't act like a true Lady Bishop. Looking at William, it seemed he had the same idea. Mother wouldn't be back until tonight. She grinned from ear to ear as she took off her sandals and threw them away, her toes feeling soft from the moss at her feet. They both laughed in amusement as the shoes flew in the air, but paused when they finally landed. She had never been decent at throwing. They watched as one landed in the creek in front of them, the other only three feet away from her. As if they both had the same idea, they positioned their index fingers at the tip of their noses.
"I WON!" They said in chorus. "But I'm older," he started, watching his sister start to sulk. She hung her head, the way younger sisters do when they want their brothers to feel guilty, and he sighed. "I'll get it, I'll get it."
William passed her his bow and quiver, hopping down towards the creek. He would come back layered in muddy sludge, and mother would know, but that would be better than hearing his sister's sniffles all evening. As he grabbed the shoe, his sister shrieked behind him. He looked up to see the plants trapping her feet, wrapping up her limbs. A dead branch reached for her and shielded her mouth to keep her from screaming as the creek began to flood with a hot black tar.
As he questioned where the sticky element was coming from, he slipped on an algae-covered stone. He fell face-first into the tar as it stung him. It felt as though his skin was melting. He could hardly get his body out of it, but he managed to lift his face up and stretch out his arm, hoping to grab something, anything, whether it be thorns or knives, so that he could reach Fleur. When he looked up, she vanished in thin air. The trees were back to normal. It was as if she wasn't there to begin with. William had never been as panicked in his life as he was then. He wept for the loss of his sister, begging for this to be a dream. He cursed God, hoping that He may overhear. Moments passed as he laid in the tar, gradually deciding that he was content at vanishing right there, as his sister had. Only when he felt the hand seize his ankle did he start moving again.
He looked behind him and saw nothing. No person, no beast, but his ankle was being wrapped up in someone's hand. Crying, he tried shaking it off, whatever "it" was, and a shadowy figure formed in front of him.
The shadows dragged him through the tar and put a sack over his head. It burned on his skin as the shadows stayed by his side. They strapped his arms behind him and forced him down to the ground as the tar grew over his face. He couldn't see anything. The only thing he heard was muffled words as they tied a rope around his neck, yanking it towards them. He would have to keep up if he didn't want to be strangled.
"Which one should we sell?"
*******************
William woke up in his bed, gasping for air. It was still dark outside. The moon's light entered the window and landed on Lilly's body, which slightly moved from the sudden disturbance. He prayed she wouldn't wake and see him like this, and as if God was apologizing for the nightmare, she didn't wake from her slumber.
He had been plagued by that same dream every night since his sister passed away. His household came to an agreement to never share the way she was slaughtered to anybody. If anyone asked, he was to say that she died of an illness. William tried to tell one of the maids, but his father beat him for it. He would never attempt it again.
