Art by James Fenner (@JMFenner91 on Twitter)

They were going too fast.

The wagon jolted and jumped like a raging bull as it sped through the old Redwood trail's uncertain terrain.

I had been rolling at the back of the wagon like a limp sack of potatoes, trying to swerve away from all the boxes and crates filled to the brim with what seemed to be stolen goods from my village.

For the past few months, we've been hearing about a gang of thugs that were going around neighboring towns stealing and wreaking havoc as they passed through. It was only a matter of time before they paid a visit to our village.

And as predicted, it didn't take long for them to show up. Even though it was something we had been expecting for a while now – myself included – I wasn't counting on them ambushing me at the back alley close to Wee John's tavern, to force me to join in their criminal ventures.

It hadn't been exactly the sort of invitation you could refuse, I quickly realized, as they forced me to join them with the tip of their knife pressed against my throat.

Now, here I was, tied up in the back of their wagon, trying to hold on for dear life as I jolted against piles of crates and boxes helplessly.

From inside the covered wagon, I could hear the boastful laughter of men coming from the rider's seat outside, and the whip cracking through the air, urging the horses to go even faster than they were already going. This speed was ill-advised on this trail, but I wasn't going to tell any of them that.

At this rate, we were bound to hit a rock soon and break a wheel, and I was planning on trying to escape if that ever happened. They didn't know the area as I did, I could easily lose them if I ran and hid somewhere in the high vegetation near the forest's border.

As far as I could gather, the bandits had planned to take the old Redwood trail, this way they could reach Chalkbarrel faster than the rangers, who would surely pursue them on the new, and much longer, route. By taking the old trail, they were going to have more than enough time to get to Chalkbarrel and quickly disperse, each of them going their separate ways with their part of the stolen goods before anyone could catch them.

I was brought along to be their guide for tonight and to guarantee them safe passage on the cursed trail. They had heard about Sweeny Buckle's grim fate at the tavern and how I was the only one in the area who could make it through the trail unscathed. After hearing that, kidnapping me seemed the best idea for a swift and safe escape, they had decided.

They were not going to make it to the end of this trail though, not with the reckless riding they were doing. Their wagon was too big, too heavy, and going too fast. They wouldn't be able to avoid all the rocks scattered everywhere down the trail, not going like this.

If their wagon didn't break any time soon, I was hoping that once we passed through the boulder's passage, my shadow friend would notice that I hadn't stopped and would try to do something to help me.

Some of the gang were riding outside, on the coachman's seat, and a few of them were inside the covered bonnet, watching over me and the stolen goods. They had tied my hands with a thick rope that constricted painfully around my wrist, burning my skin as I tried to break free.

My jaw ached from the punches I received earlier at the back alley where they had caught me. I could still taste blood from the busted lip they gave me and one of my ribs was probably cracked too, because it hurt every time I took a deeper breath.

So far we had miraculously missed hitting all the rocks on the trail and I began to grow anxious and worried. I guess my escape plan had been hindered by fate, which seemed to have moved all the rocks out of our way tonight. The wagon looked like it wouldn't be crashing any time soon, and I realized I needed to start thinking about a second escape plan.

I crawled to the back of the wagon as surreptitiously as I could to try to peek through the opening on the canvas of the wagon's cover. I needed to know if we were closer to the boulder's passage, where Erebus would hopefully be waiting for me.

When I glanced outside, I quickly recognized the part of the trail we were on. We had long passed half of the way, the boulder's passage had been left behind for some time, and doubt began to creep into my head, like a wriggling worm moving towards rotten thoughts...

It wasn't long ago that Erebus had told me that he was going to need more time to rest and recover. He said he wasn't going to show up to meet me as often as before... What if tonight was one of the nights he said he wouldn't be coming? What if I was waiting for him to notice that I didn't stop, but he wasn't even there to see it?

The trees on the side of the trail blurred as they passed and the only thing I could do was to hold my breath and wait for a sign of Erebus' presence, quietly praying for him to be somewhere close to the borders tonight.

The bracelet he had given me weighed heavily on my wrist and hurt more than it used to because of the thick rope tied over it, pressing its sharp thorns against my wrist. Despite the pain and discomfort that I was feeling, having it with me brought me some sort of solace deep inside. It was as if I could somehow feel his presence here with me at the back of this wagon.

I brought my tied hands close to my lips and prayed for Erebus to hear me, hoping that somehow the bracelet would connect us and he would know I needed help. But if the wagon didn't hit any rocks and Erebus continued to be missing, I didn't know what else I could do... Maybe I wouldn't be able to make it out of this alive after all.

I closed my eyes and focused all my thoughts on the bracelet on my wrist while I kept my ears tuned to any signs of disturbance that might happen outside.

When I was about to give up hope and give in to despair, I noticed that strange things started to happen. The men in the rider's seat started arguing over something, so I strained my ears, trying to catch on to what they were fighting about.

"I know what I'm seeing! There's people in these woods, man! I've been seeing them hiding behind the trees, I'm not joking with this!" One of them was shouting.

"It's just trees in the dark playing tricks on your eyes, man." The other man countered, sounding incredulous.

"No, that ain't trees, it's peoples!" The man snapped in frustration. "Something fishy is going on... Maybe it's bandits hiding in this forest." He suggested. "There must be a whole bunch of them in there, ready to ambush us."

"That seems unlikely..." The other man said but didn't sound as incredulous as before.

"It's bandits in there, boss! That's why no one comes out of this road alive. And that little punk tied at the back must have an agreement with them. A deal or a pact or whatever." The other man continued with his rant. "They let him pass, he pays them some toll. He's in this ruse somehow, I'm telling ya!"

One of the goons inside the covered bonnet had been listening to the debate going at the rider's seat and then he turned around and stalked towards me, or more likely, staggered really, as he was trying to catch his balance with all the bumps and jolts of the wagon.

When he finally reached me, he stopped and gave me a hard kick on the side. "Is that true, boy? Are ya conniving with bandits in this forest? Are they preparing to ambush us? You tell us! You tell us now!" He demanded angrily and continued kicking me all over, trying to make me spill the beans.

Then another thug staggered towards us, leaving one last guy behind. He reached us and pulled the man that was kicking me aside, trying to make him stop.

"Oi! You calm down now, Brutt! Jeff is only taking the piss out there, he ain't serious 'bout none of that, boy." He tried to calm his friend's temper but before he could say anything else, there was an abrupt stop and everyone launched forward, crashing on top of each other. Brutt, the guy that had been kicking me, fell hard and was instantly buried underneath crates and boxes that toppled painfully over him.

"What in god's name is happening out there?!" Brutt yelled, shoving things furiously off of him. The men outside were shouting about something and then one of them pulled open the canvas at the front to talk to the men inside.

"There's something in the way! We almost crashed into the damn thing!" He announced angrily. "Get out there and check what's the hold-up, you useless mutts!" He barked out the order, before closing the flap with a disgruntled huff.

Brutt stood up, and patted the dirt off his clothes before turning to his friend to say, "Smells like ambush to me," he muttered gruffly, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and hauling me outside.

...