Jane raced heedlessly into the morning forest. Threading between trees and barrelling through brush and shrub. It was a full-blown panic; her mind was racing with so many questions, but not enough answers. Only after she stopped did she find time to ask herself:

  Where the hell am I going?

  Back at the Castle, she had checked herself in a mirror, only to find nothing staring back. No face, no hair, no skin. All that remained was a swirling, misty tornado, with two amber sparks for eyes, dancing in the void. What was she? How was she? This had to be a dream. As reality set in, an icy sensation came over her like a shroud. The girl continued to run, over thick roots, through sharp burrs and fallen trunks. Her pace was quick but ended abruptly when she slipped and toppled face down in the mud. All the while, in the corner of her eye, the sight of the figure made of shadow, tracked her at speed and dispersed into thin air. Picking herself up, Jane could see the side of a nearby road. Large dry ruts fed into the corner, before curling over a steep crest. It was there she caught sight of something glinting through the gloomy distance.

  Jane immediately crouched down behind a bush and kept low. Through the gaps in the branches, she could see a light in the distance, coming steadily closer. To her complete surprise, the object turned out to be an old lantern attached to a covered wagon and driven by a man dressed like a medieval peasant. A yelp died in her throat, when she noticed the stranger was completely green in complexion.

  These have to be aliens. She thought. Where is their ship?

  The wagon stopped short of Jane’s hiding place and the man got down to check one of the wheels. Out from the back, a smaller figure came to help. It was green-skinned child, no more than ten in stature, complete with pig-tails and carrying a knitted doll. Seemingly bored, the girl decided to wander off toward the nearby clearing to play by herself. Jane kept a close eye and tracked the child’s movement to a small bank of shaded Oaks. Just as all seemed calm, a muscular arm pulled the little girl into the trunk of a nearby tree cast in shadow. The doll dropped helplessly to the ground. Jane could feel her heart freeze. If it was her heart, anything was possible at this point. Slipping away on all fours, she left the man to search his daughter.

  Finally clear, Jane got to her feet and bolted deeper into the forest. Her mind screaming with everything she had witnessed: What was this place? What was that thing? How could she leave? All the while, she kept running with no care or caution. All she wanted to do was find safety.

  Run, run, run, run, run. Don’t stop. If you stop, it will catch you, and if it catches you, it will take you.

  Unfortunately, Jane was so focused on escaping that she failed to spot a tall ledge, which sent her flying onto the roof of a thatched cottage below. Rolling off the thick golden straw, she landed in a wet pig pen and lay still. Exhausted and fed up, Jane sloshed around before slowly crawling toward the fence.

  Come on holiday, get together, have a few laughs.

  Jane approached the gate and half-expected to see a shocked family standing nearby, but there was no one. All was quiet and empty. She wondered if the cottage belonged to the man she had just seen, and suddenly felt a pang of sympathy. Double-checking to see if anyone was around, Jane pushed the door lightly and found it to be open. Slowly entering, the first thing that struck her was how normal everything looked; from the cosy kitchen to the couches set around a brick fireplace. The second thing she noticed was that every item, including knick-knacks, furniture, utensils, and upholstery, was all green. Green plates were set on a green wooden table, over green flagstone floor, next to a green living room area. Even the bricks were green. Wandering around, Jane eventually came to a child’s bedroom. On a small rocking chair sat a knitted doll. Also green.

  It reminded her of little Alberta. She too had a rocking chair in her bedroom, where her sister would spend hours talking to a doll named ‘Clover Sally’. Jane turned away, suddenly taken with a longing that cut through like a blade. She thought about her parents spending Christmas with their sole remaining daughter. Jane missed her home and the warmth of togetherness. What would Christmas be without her? Her parents would find the energy to put on a brave face for her sister's sake, but there would always be hollowness to the celebrations, forcing them to go through the motions. No one would be in the mood. They would look at the remaining unopened presents and feel a weight. It made her sad, the more she thought about it: sadness and anger. Overcome with determination, Jane swore she would find her way back no matter how long it took or the price to pay. In that moment, she could feel an intense hatred rising inside of her; a sense of unfairness fuelled by boiling rage and injustice. This feeling would have lasted longer had she not been knocked out by a frying pan.

  ***

  Jane woke to a gentle rocking.

  Lying down, she brought her hands up to her face and found they were shackled to a long chain which snaked around her legs. From her position, she could see the profile of the driver. It wore a mask, similar to that of the Plague Doctor, but this one was decorated with golden branches, and the shoulders were adorned with crow feathers. The wagon passed under an archway and stopped dead. By the way the driver moved its head; it seemed to be engaged in an animated conversation with people to the side. Suddenly, two green heads peered over the side. Judging by the ornate helmets, crowned in feathers, they appeared to be sentry guards. After confirming the prisoner, the guards looked at each other and disappeared back out of sight. The wagon rattled on.

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  Passing through the square, Jane could get a good look at the village. It was similar to those from Shakespearean times, when buildings were half-timbered in black and white. Except here, the houses were painted in a sparkling Emerald hue.

  So much green. It’s giving me a headache.

  The girl would never accept that her head was now a swirling Tornado wreathed in mist.

  ***

  Eventually, the wagon stopped, and the rear door unbolted. Jane was forced onto the mud and taken to the biggest house, where she was held down while the Driver called out to the occupant. A haughty-looking woman in a powdered wig opened the two middle windows and began a line of dialogue. Jane noticed how the Driver was like a lawyer pleading his case to a Magistrate, and soon her fate would become all too apparent. The large woman slammed the windows, and Jane was handed over to several burly-looking guards, who took her by each arm.

  The crowd opened a clear path to a thick pole, blackened by fire and surrounded by a nest of dry wood. Jane could feel panic set in and tried to struggle free, but her arms were clamped down solidly. She wanted to dig her heels in, but the tips of her toes were dragged behind. For the second time in so many months, she would be burned alive.

  ***

  A broom handle was suddenly flung from the crowd and tripped one of the guards. The other guard spun and unsheathed his sword with a sharp rasp. Jane could see Isaac move from the dull-eyed crowd, his arms raised high. As this happened, a regiment of guards slipped past the onlookers and formed a ring around the Plaza, pointing spears at the intruder. Isaac moved over to Jane and gently pulled her up by the top of her arm.

  “When I give the signal,” He said, looking down. “You run like hell.”

  “De Cesaris!” An old voice cried out from the other end. “What do you think you are doing?”

  The voice sounded rough like tumbleweed wrapped in sandpaper. It belonged to that of a stranger, dressed in Wicker armour. The head was concealed under a large dome, made of the same material. “You know the rules. All potential threats are to be tried.”

  “She’s not a threat, she’s just a tourist who got lost.”

  “Even so, rules have to be obeyed.”

  “Rules made up by psychopaths, who dress up their moral outrage in a cloak of intimidation and control. Everyone puts up with because they lack the stones to speak up.” A collective gasp went up from the crowd. “Oh, shut up, you know I’m right.”

  “So I’m weak, now?” The Stranger said, approaching Isaac.

  “No, I just think you know your place.”

  “I’m a Dog?”

  The Stranger unsheathed his dirty blade and let it glint in the muddy light.

  “Come on, Puffles, no one has to die here today.”

  “ Don’t try it, boy, you know you can’t win.”

  “I was talking about the girl,” Isaac said. “Aren’t you tired of all these lunatics running around with blood on their hands and pretending they are the moral victors?”

  “Save your complaints for the hearing.”

  “We all know how it will go; power begets madness. History has taught us that the corrupt and insane are put in charge, for what? So we may look back and wonder how it got so bad. How did we come to fear such weak-minded fools?”

  “Sermons are for Sunday, lad.”

  “Then I asked to be burnt as well,” Isaac said, with a shrug. “For I refuse to be damned with this lot.”

  There was a pause in hostilities. The crowd looked on, gormless as any other that waited for an execution. Puffles sagged his shoulders and gestured for the Old Knight to come over. Still holding onto Jane, Isaac crossed the yard.

  “What are you trying to achieve here?” Puffles asked, lowering his voice. “You can’t change system by appealing to these Bumble-headed simpletons.”

  “It’s you I’m trying to appeal to. You have seen so many innocent people thrown away, where do you draw the line?”

  Puffles shifted uncomfortably

  “I have to admit, I grow weary of all the senseless death.”

  “So let us go,” Isaac said. “I will keep her at the castle; you will never see her again. Not while that thing is out there. On my life.”

  “Don’t think I won’t hold you to that.” The Old Man said. “Alright, let’s see how good she is.”

  “The Trials?”

  “Obviously,” Puffles said. He sheathed the sword and addressed the crowd. “As Head Warden, I am invoking the ‘Three Labours’. It’s an old bill, but it still stands; unless someone wants to contest the ancient rule of law upon which Perdita is built. Come on. Which brave soul will step forward and plead their case?” He was met with an uncomfortable and confused silence. “No? Alright then.” The Driver squeaked out a protest. “Yes, yes, but like you said…we have rules. And every year, someone gets the chance to prove their worth. This individual is that someone.”

  Isaac led two horses out from the side.

  “Thanks, Puffles.” He said.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, the crowd is getting restless.”

  “Their blood lust has been denied. They’re going to be restless for some time.”

  “I can’t take you anywhere.” The Old Man said, mounting his horse.

  ~What’s going on?~ Jane signed.

  “You’ve been awarded a stay of execution,” Isaac said. “Assuming you do as you’re told.”

  ~Can’t you just let me go?~

  “We’ve already seen what happens when you go off alone. Trust me, this is the best way.”

  Jane nodded wearily and let him place her on the horse.

  “When you Hens are done gossiping, we must get gone.”

  “One other thing, she can’t exactly hear anything.”

  “Now, how the hell am I supposed to make that work?”

  Isaac smiled. “Don’t worry, I have a plan.”