How to Slay a Dragon - Bill Allen [45]
Who would have thought a young girl’s voice could sound so terrifying?
Hart of the Matter
A blurry outline of a human head hovered over him. Greg tried to scream but doubted anyone heard, perhaps not even the girl adventurer who stood at his feet.
“What’s that you say?” she asked. “Help, was it? Oh, you’re bleeding!”
Greg felt a tug on his bandages and tried screaming again. This time it must have worked, because the girl jumped back and shouted at him—something about yelling in her ear. He heard Lucky far off to his left.
“Greg, are you all right? Nathan, quick, I think something’s happened to Greg.”
The rustling in the woods turned frantic, and Greg knew Nathan and Lucky were both racing back to help. For a moment he lost the ability to breathe.
“Who’s out there?” the girl shouted, and Greg took satisfaction in hearing a tremor in her voice. The rustling bore right down on the two of them, and then it stopped.
“Prissy!” Greg heard Lucky cry. “What are you doing here?”
“Princess Priscilla?” said Nathan’s voice nearby. “I must say, I was not expecting to see you.”
Greg exhaled with a whoosh. Could this really be King Peter’s second daughter and not the girl adventurer who was out to kill him? But then the full realization struck. The princess had escaped the dragon! He wanted to scream for joy but couldn’t locate his voice.
“Do I know you?” the princess asked Nathan.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t remember, but we’ll have to save the introductions for later. Our friend here is very ill. We must find some jinsen root before he goes into shock.”
“Are you kidding? He’ll be dead before you find jinsen this close to a fosselberry grove. Don’t you have any healing spells?”
There was a long pause, and while Greg’s vision may have been cloudy, he was almost certain he witnessed a lot of embarrassed head shaking.
“I can’t believe you two,” the girl scolded. She certainly didn’t sound like a princess, but then neither had her sister Penelope. “Here, you can use one of mine.”
Greg heard the clink of glass and felt an icy cold stab in his side. He couldn’t decide if it hurt more or less than the wound, but soon the pain subsided and Greg’s vision began to clear. The girl hovering over him had red curls that hung down, blocking most of her face, but Greg could see she was about his own age and quite pretty. She very well could be a princess.
Yet aside from her hair she was nothing like her sister. Sure, Penelope was beautiful, but her skin was so white it looked unnatural, almost the pale white of a grub you might find under a rock. Come to think of it, Greg had an idea a grub probably logged more hours in the sun. Both times Greg saw her, Penelope had been garbed in the finest of dresses, and her manner was so proper she looked out of place outdoors, even on the perfectly groomed grass of the castle lawn. He couldn’t imagine her stepping foot into any forest, let alone one named Wiccan Wood.
Priscilla’s skin, however, was tan and freckled. Instead of a dress she wore dungarees and a button down shirt, much like the outfit Nathan wore, and in spite of her petite frame she looked perfectly at home here in the wilds of Wiccan Wood. It was hard to believe the two were sisters.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
“Better is a relative term,” Greg said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Are you really Princess Priscilla?”
“Who wants to know?”
She and Penelope quite possibly were sisters after all. “My name’s Greg. Greg Hart.”
“You’re Greghart?” she said, astounded. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
Yep, that clinched it.
“He’s not kidding, Prissy,” said Lucky. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the forest, anyway?”
Priscilla jumped to her feet. “Don’t you speak to me in that tone, Lucky Day. And stop calling me Prissy. You know I hate that name.”
“Fine, Priscilla, then.”
“No, I don’t like that either. Call me Sasha.”
Lucky laughed out loud. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
The princess stomped her feet in the dirt and wailed, “Do I sound like I’m kidding?” Greg had to admit, she sounded more like a Sasha than a