Thread: Shades of Gray

He listened as she explained the whole of it, committing it as best to memory as a man in haste could. I am a murderer, as I have said, Thomas began, staring coolly into her eyes. But, if there is a saving grace, it is that I only end bad people, or the people that I must. Do not worry, as he stepped around to come behind her, we will be as quiet as we can, and your servants shall live, should they not try to stop us. Who here was in more astonishment, he wondered. This young woman seemed too obvious to actually be a trap. With what he knew of her father, specifically her father's yearn for control, it took little to believe his own daughter would be traded off to some other powerful lord, probably less hesitantly than most families who did so were. She seemed so obvious that, as the irony of it were, he believed everything of what she said, enough that he would be entrusting his life to the route she spoke. Any that would get in our way, though, shall have to be dealt with. Please be prepared for that. As he spoke Thomas secured the soft red velvet around Caroline's wrists, following it up by a pair of quick tugs to ensure it was tight. Be ready to walk ahead of me. And to walk fast. The second cloth came up around her face, his hands on either side of her head. I will release you once we are a safe distance away. Until then, stay no more than a full step in front of me. The cloth pushed into her mouth. Just as with her wrists, Thomas spared no amount of force in tying her bond tight, uncomfortably so. Gags and binds were things of restraint, not of comfort. If you try to run at any point before that, he whispered, leaning in beside Caroline's left ear, you will put me in a position where I must chase you down and end you. ...Please, it would be such a waste. Punctuating their newfound position as kidnapper and hostage, one hand gripped into Caroline's hair, jerking her head back, forcing her chin up, throat out. The other gripped harshly into her left wrist, with a sharply whispered, Get moving, right at her ear. Thomas ushered her through the bedroom door, out of her father's room. Toward a new life. Left came first, he immediately urging her down a large, wide staircase as they turned from the hall. Every step was hurried. Every step had him holding her head an at uncomfortable angle, holding her tight by the hair, while his other hand held at Caroline's wrist, equally shoving her forward and keeping her steady as they descended. I have no horse, he whispered hastily, arriving at the bottom step. They were on the second floor now. Thomas paused their joint steps to peer over the second floor balcony, to the foyer. It was here he remembered himself, letting go of Caroline's hair a moment to grab the hood that had fallen about his shoulders, quickly bringing it back up. Ironically, in his haste, it took the nervous man an extra second to do so. Once we taste air we will have to run. He gripped into her hair again and pressed her forward, returning to the hurried pace as they began down the second set of wide, beautifully kept oak stairs. Be prepared. Once they reached the bottom step, stepping onto the first floor, the dark robed man jerked to a halt again. Again he looked to the front double doors, and as she had said, he could see two men posted just outside their front, through the beveled glass of the doors' windows. He began their movements again, turning both himself and her to the servants' quarters as she had said. If the pair made a sound as they moved it was nothing above a pair of footsteps, his own soles light and thus quiet, and she without shoes at all. Should she grunt, or make any other noise, it would be muffled by her gag. As for himself, Thomas said nothing above a whisper. If her house's servants had not been roused from their rooms by the sounds of the barn, then surely the two of them would not be the ca- As they turned the corridor Thomas' blue eyes went wide beneath his hood. His lungs hitched. His heart skipped a beat. At the far end of the hallway was a door, which he hoped by this woman's description to be an exit, but on the left, right before it, was an open door. There were several other doors, one on the left, two on the right, but all of them closed. They couldn't stop. Couldn't stop now. Keep moving, he whispered hastily. No other way out, was there? They kept moving. Four steps before they reached that ominous, open door Thomas removed both hands from his hostage's body, allowing her to move on her own. He reached them into his robe, readying himself...readying, grabbing for something...then, as he stepped in front of that open doorway, his entire body found pause. Thomas blinked. Beneath the cover of his hood he just stared about. ...An empty bedroom. His entire body, his shoulders, his arms, it all seemed to share in the feeling of relief. But that relief was premature there was still an escape to be had. His hands removed from the inside of his robe as bare as when they'd slipped in. Thomas took the few final steps to that back door, turning the knob and swinging it open. It is a cold night, he said, feeling the chill of the slight wind on his face the moment the door swung open, and at no point will we be going down some smooth road. ...Are you ready? Whether she was or was not, a firm hand gripped her by the left shoulder anyway, shoving her forward, out into the night. Run, he snapped, as urgently as a whisper ever could. The door was pulled closed behind them. With each new step to come, the manor would become that much more a thing of the past.