I had been curious about the role of a hound during a hunt. Lucky for me, I didn't have to wonder for long.
The answer, it turns out, is run. A hound runs alongside a horse that is taller than the hound and faster than the hound and does not care whether the hound's legs are shorter or whether the hound's lungs are on fire or whether the hound had been beaten for the better part of a week.
The collar was fastened around my neck and attached to the saddle of the princess's horse with about four feet of slack. This allowed me to run at full speed without the chain becoming taut, but it was just enough to prevent me from stopping. If I slowed, the chain tightened, causing the collar to dig into my throat, either propelling me forward or dragging me behind.
The princess rode ahead, and her horse moved with an effortless stride.
"Come, hound," she called without looking back.
"I am not a fucking dog!”
A guard pulled up beside me, a red-bearded man.
"Faster, boy. The princess does not wait."
"Eat—my—entire—ass."
He turned to the guard on the opposite side. "What did he say?"
"Something about eating. He is a strange one."
"Perhaps the stable has addled his mind."
"Perhaps he was addled before the stable."
We both laughed, but I hated them. I hated them with every cell of my body that burned from the collar chafing a red line into my neck.
"Hey!" I shouted at the one with a red beard. "Yeah, you. You're a—you're a useless—sack of—"
He glanced down at me with mild curiosity.
"He speaks again," the other guard commented. "Such spirit for one so small."
My insults were meaningless in this place. This was the problem. I could call these people every name in every language I knew, and they did not seem to care. My words were empty air. Where was Cassian when I really needed her?
Because I had some things I wanted to say. I had an entire speech prepared. It was really good. It was about the princess and her horse and her collar and her little hunting game and what she could do with it all. If Cassian were here—if that proud bitch who lived inside my head would just show up for once when I wanted her to—she could deliver it in words that would mean something to these people. She could gut the princess with a sentence.
Cassian was quiet now. She had a habit of appearing when I didn't want her and leaving when I did, like the worst roommate of all time.
My legs gave out somewhere after the second hill. My legs sank into the soil, and the chain pulled me back, while the collar dug into my neck. I remained on my hands and knees in the grass, my chest heaving, every muscle in my body aching.
"I can't," I panted. "I can't—keep—I can't do this anymore—"
The crack of the whip came before I saw it. A white, hot line of fire across my shoulders, burning through my shirt. I screamed, couldn't help it, and curled forward into the dirt. Olc rode up beside me. He had been at the tail end of our group, but his whip was already in his hand, ready to unleash another lash.
"You are here to catch. On your feet, runt."
I don't know how, but I got up. My legs decided independently of my brain that standing was preferable to the whip. They carried me forward, shaking, burning, barely holding, and I ran. A horn blared from ahead. The hunters shifted to the right, the horses wheeling, the riders calling to each other. Through the trees, a boar was moving.
The riders surged forward. The princess's horse lunged, and I nearly went down, stumbling, catching myself, chain snapping taut as the whole party plunged into the thicket. Branches lashed my arms and face. The ground went uneven, roots, mud, and the forest floor turning hostile under my feet. I caught a glimpse of it, about 30 yards away, perhaps fewer. The boar was charging through the undergrowth, towering and shadowy, its tusks glinting between the trees. The riders were dispersing, encircling from both directions, while dogs were barking ahead... and I stumbled.
I hit the ground hard—knee, elbow, face—my whole body slammed into the forest floor, and the chain yanked, and the collar bit. I yelped out a string of profanity so loud and so creatively blasphemous that all the birds in half a mile took flight.
The boar spooked. It veered hard right and crashed through a wall of undergrowth. It was gone.
The horn blared once more, signaling for the riders to stop. The dogs circled back, confused, sniffing the air. Everyone in the hunting party turned and looked at me. I was on the ground, tangled in my chain, mud on my face, and blood on my knees.
"The hound," the watchman said. “Has frightened the quarry."
The princess reined her horse around. She looked down at me from the saddle.
"The hunt does not end," she said, "until we bring something back. Rise, hound."
I ran for what seemed like hours. I'm sure my feet were bleeding too. The collar had rubbed through two layers of skin. My legs were shaking with every step, and I was only upright thanks to the knowledge that the whip was behind me.
I heard a rustling in the brush on my left. It was close. Low to the ground, moving fast but not fast enough. I changed course, diving into the bushes. The chain swung wide. The princess's horse sidestepped. Branches everywhere, leaves in my mouth. I had my fingers closed around something soft and wriggling.
I pulled it out.
A rabbit.
Small. Brown. Enormous eyes. Ears pinned back. I held it in both hands and looked at it. "I don't have anything against you, bro," I whispered. "I really don't. But I can't keep running."
I stood up. Holding the rabbit aloft by its scruff, I turned to the princess, heaving with chest, and grinning.
"Here you go, Your Highness. One quarry. Caught. Can I stop running now?"
The princess looked at the rabbit. Then she leaned forward in the saddle, and her voice came out tender.
"What have you done to that poor creature?"
"What have I—I caught it! For you! You said bring something back!"
"Look at it. It is terrified. Its heart is beating through its chest." Her head tilted.
"Because YOU told me to catch something!"
"I told you to catch the boar. That is not a boar. Unless boars have shrunk considerably since last I hunted, that is a rabbit.”
The rabbit trembled between us.
"A rabbit," I said. "Yes. Fine. A rabbit. Not a boar. So... so what? One of these things deserves to die and one of them doesn't. Why does the rabbit get to live and the boar doesn't? What's the boar done wrong? What's the rabbit got that a boar doesn't? The boar doesn't bother anyone either, but just because it's big and ugly so it gets hunted. Meanwhile you've got a whole throne and nobody's chaining YOU to a horse."
Olc's horse shifted forward. "Are you criticizing Her Royal Highness?"
"He is not criticizing me, Commander." The princess's voice cut across both of us. "That is not what I want. Put it down."
"Your Highness," Olc began, "this wretch dares to contradict —"
"He contradicts no one. He holds a rabbit and speaks nonsense. These are not crimes." A beat. "Though his grip is poor and the creature suffers for it. Put it down, hound."
Olc's hand went to his belt buckle.
"Commander." The princess avoided looking at him. "Leave it."
His hand dropped slowly.
"My hound is many things," the princess said, still looking at me with that unreadable, appraising calm. "Loud. Filthy. Entirely without grace." The slightest pause. "But he is loyal. And he catches what he is told to catch, even if it is the wrong thing."
I dropped the rabbit. It shot into the brush and disappeared. At least one of us would get out of this.
We kept riding, through the trees, across a stream that came up to my knees, up a hill that nearly killed me, and down the other side. The guards stopped laughing. The horses, too, seemed exhausted.
Then I saw it. At first, I didn't know if it was real. Maybe it was a hallucination, a kind of coping mechanism. But no, it was a boar. It was about fifty yards ahead, in a clearing, rooting in the dirt. I wasn't about to let this one slip through my grasp.
Some part of my brain that was beyond exhaustion, beyond pain, beyond the rational understanding that I was someone who had never killed anything larger than a mosquito—some part of me that was pure animal, pure this ends NOW—took over. Not Cassian, but me.
I ran. My full sprint had boots tearing into the dirt. My chain swung behind me, straight at the boar, with no plan and no fear, because I had used up all my fear hours ago. The princess's horse, startled by the chain's sudden lunge, sped up, transforming into a full, panicked run. We were going fast, crashing through the brush, off the path. We were racing away from the guards and the hunting party. I was just me and my horse and my chain and the boar, getting closer.
Something was in the trees. I couldn't see what. The horse neighed and reared, then bolted, blind with terror. I was behind it, the chain snapping taut, the collar slamming into my throat, and then I was off my feet, dragged. The ground shredded my back and arms, rocks and roots tearing through fabric and skin. The chain caught on something, and the horse's momentum ripped it clean off the saddle, the bolt shattering. Instantly, the pull disappeared. The horse kept running, trampling through the trees while I was lying on my back, gazing up at the treetops. The chain was piled near me, and the collar remained fastened around my neck.
Every part of me ached. My back was raw. My neck ached beneath the collar. But the chain was off the horse. I lay there and took a breath before I sat up. The chain clinked beside me as it trailed from the collar. I was finally free, after so many days of captivity. I could run. Away from the princess, the palace, the collar and Olc. Just go. Disappear into this forest and figure the rest out later. Never...
"Going somewhere?"
I turned.
She was right there. On the horse, Olc was on one side, and two guards on the other. They had discovered me. I had only been down for around 30 seconds.
"Of course not, Your Highness," I responded from the ground. "Just resting. Taking in the scenery. Beautiful forest. Love the trees."
She looked at me. The light was lower now, amber, catching the edge of her jaw and making her look like a painting.
"I am tired," the princess said. "The hunt is over."
Oh thank god.
"Come, hound." She adjusted the reins and addressed the guards, saying, "I wish to ride alone with the hound, you will meet us there."
I collapsed backwards onto the ground. My arms were outstretched. I had nothing left. My lungs were empty. My will to exist in this or any other timeline was empty.
"I said I am tired," the princess repeated. "Not that you may rest. Come."
"I — can't—I literally—"
"You can. A bit further will not kill you."
"It might! It actually literally might!"
"Then you will die with purpose. Come, hound."
I stood up. What else could I do? Run? I didn't know where I was, or which direction was the palace, or the village, or even the fucking ocean. All I knew was that Olc was about ten feet away on a horse, brandishing a whip with the other guards close behind. I had no weapons, no food, and a chain hanging from my neck. My voice didn't matter. I was powerless in every direction, and my only option was forward, behind the princess. At least forward had a destination.
She didn't go back toward the castle. I noticed it after a few minutes: the path was unfamiliar, the trees different from the ones we'd ridden through that morning. The guards started to fall back, not disappearing but rather dispersing, creating space, which seemed to be a request she sometimes made and they sometimes granted.
The trees opened up.
A lake. Stretching out between the hills, massive and still as glass. The surface was a mix of black in the middle and green on the edges, reflecting the sky like a mirror placed on its side. The princess reined in her horse at the water's edge and looked at it for a moment. Then she looked at me.
"The hound should bathe."
The lake was completely opaque, so I couldn't see the bottom. We had absolutely no idea what was in there. It could have been fish, rocks or lake monsters. Anything! The worst things my brain could render, hidden just below the surface, waiting for an idiot to put one foot in.
"No thanks. That water is terrifying. There could be anything in there. It's murky! There's stuff in it! I can see stuff! I'm not going in there."
"It is shallow near the banks. I merely wish to see how far it goes." Her head tilted. "Go on, hound."
"What if I can't swim?"
"I am not asking you to swim," she clarified. "I am asking you to walk into the water. That reaches your knees. Surely even you can manage that."
"What if I drown?"
"You would not be the first hound I have lost."
I stared at her in amazement. The audacity of this woman. She gazed out over the lake. I turned toward the water. Then I took a step. I stopped. "I am not a dog."
"That," the princess replied, "is a matter of perspective."
I huffed in protest and stepped into the water. It hit my ankles and climbed my shins and wrapped around my calves like hands made of ice and I hissed through my teeth and kept going because the alternative was the whip and at this point the lake was the lesser evil. I dropped to my knees. My waist. The bottom was soft; I didn't want to think about what was squishing under my feet. The chain from my collar trailed behind me in the water, floating on the surface.
The water reached my ribs. The middle of the lake was darker and deeper. I turned around.
"What are you doing?" the princess asked from the riverbank.
"Coming back out. I can't find my footing—"
"I did not bid you return. Onward."
"It's too deep! I’ll drown!”
"You will not drown. Onward."
"It's on your conscience then."
"I have carried heavier things on my conscience than a drowned hound. 'You will walk until I bid you stop,' she declared. 'Not before.'
I turned back toward the open water, took another step, and the bottom dropped. The water climbed to my chest and the cold squeezed my lungs.
This made me think of the community pool on Bleecker during the summer. Lyra and I, every July and every August from the age of ten to freshman year. Lyra in the deep end, because she swam like she had been born in the water. And my favorite game... was the drowning game. I'd go under. Slowly. Let my head dip below the surface. Let my arms go limp. Float there, face down, not moving, counting in my head—one, two, three—and wait. Wait for Lyra's hands to grab my shoulders, yanking me up, her voice furious: 'CAS!' Oh my god, I HATE you, don't DO that —"
And I would smile as she hit me, followed by my own laughter. She would threaten never to speak to me again, but we would always end up getting ice cream together after.
I intentionally allowed my next step to be too long, causing my foot to miss the ground. The water rose over my shoulders and my chin, and I gasped as I began to sink. I relaxed, allowing myself to float, with my arms loose and the chain floating next to me. My face was just below the surface. I started counting:
One, two, three.
"Hound."
Her voice sounded muffled through the water.
Five. Six. Seven.
"Hound, that is enough. Return."
Eight. Nine.
I stayed still. I was limp. I stayed under. The water was dark enough that she couldn't see me clearly from the bank.
Ten. Eleven.
"I know you can swim." Her voice sounded thinner now. The cracks spreading. "I have been told you swim well. Cease this. Now."
Twelve.
Splashing. Small at first, a foot hitting water. A step. Another step. She was coming in.
Thirteen.
"I do not care for these games, Cassian. I do not tolerate—these are not—"
Fourteen. Fifteen.
Deeper. The splashing was heavier. She was wading in, her voice cutting in and out, the composure peeling away layer by layer.
"Come out. Come out this instant. Cassian! Do not do this to me—do not—"
While she was talking, I drifted further away. Slowly and quietly, the water carried me toward a large rock that jutted out of the lake about twenty feet from shore. I tucked behind it, pressing my head just above the water, flat against the mossy stone.
I heard her. Splashing, wading deeper, up to her waist, then to her ribs. Her breathing was quick and ragged. I glanced over the edge of the rock and caught a glimpse of her, turning in the water, frantically scanning the surface, her hair plastered to her neck, her gown weighed down with water.
I pressed my face against the rock and bit my lip to suppress my laughter.
"Cassian!" Her voice faltered on the second syllable. She turned again, pushing through the water, her hands sweeping the surface. "This is not—if you think this is—Cassian, PLEASE—"
I took a breath and ducked under. I swam around the rock on its far side and came up right behind her, and...
"Were you looking for me, Your Majesty?"
She let out a high-pitched scream before spinning and spraying water. Her face went through about six expressions in two seconds: shock, relief, fury, disbelief and more fury.
"YOU —"
"Miss me?"
"You — insufferable — wretched — how DARE — I thought — I believed you to be — You will pay for this." She was trembling. Whether it was due to the cold or anger, I couldn't tell. "You will be punished. I will see to it personally. I will not be made a fool of.”
I splashed her.
She froze. Droplets of water trickled down her hair, lashes, and the tip of her nose. Her mouth open. The rage on her face had transcended into a primal, wordless emotion.
"Lighten up, Cricket, it's just a little water."
"What," she asked, slowly, "did you just call me?"
"Cricket. It's a nickname. You know—Cruit, Cricket. Close enough."
"My name is Her Royal Highness, Princess Cruit of Tolamn, First Jewel of —"
"Damn, that's a long ass name. You gotta say all that every time? What if there's an emergency?"
"You will NOT address me by—that is not—a cricket is a pest! A chirping, mindless, bottom-dwelling pest and you will not call me that! I am the heir to the Coastal Throne and you would name me after —"
I splashed her again.
She sputtered and splashed the water. Her face alternated between disbelief and anger. "You—you without question the most insolent, disrespectful, ill-mannered—"
"I'm not an English teacher or anything, but I think those all mean the same thing, Cricket."
"STOP CALLING ME THAT."
"Make meeeee," I sang. Unfortunately for her, I was professional at annoying people.
"You will pay for this," she repeated. “You will be punished. I do not tolerate pranks and I will not —"
I wasn't paying attention.
Her pale pink dress was soaking wet, which, in the late afternoon light, with the water pulling it flat against her body, made it completely see-through. Under different circumstances, I would have looked away. I would have said nothing. I would have been a gentlewoman, or whatever the medieval equivalent was, and pretended I hadn't noticed. However, this bitch pissed me off.
"You know," I remarked, "wet, you don't look half bad, Your Highness."
She stopped mid-sentence. Her face froze in a mask of fury. Her brow furrowed in confusion, her mind only just catching up. She glanced down.
The gasp was instant. Her arms crossed over her chest so fast that she nearly went under, water surging around her. Her face transformed from pale to scarlet in a heartbeat, starting at her neck and spreading to her cheeks and reaching her ears. I had approximately a quarter of a second to enjoy it before her hand came out of the water and connected with my face.
The slap echoed off the lake.
I have to admit: it was a really good slap.