Mermaid_ A Twist on the Classic Tale - Carolyn Turgeon [69]
The scent of the forest, the dank and the rot, was overwhelming, but she accepted it now. She was almost becoming used to being assaulted by scent, though she did not always like it. In the distance, she caught sight of an animal with huge, sleek antlers, bounding in and out of the light that filtered through the trees.
The dogs ran and bayed in front of them.
And then she was riding up alongside the prince. His head was bent forward, his hair slightly too long, his red cape flying out behind him in the wind. She turned to him, euphoric, and he was riding next to her, staring ahead, leaning into his sleek black horse, focused on the animal running in front of them, in the distance. Then he glanced to the side and saw her.
He laughed out loud in surprise.
His concentration broken, he fell behind. One of the other noblemen raced forward, and as the animal disappeared and then came back into view, there was a loud whoosh, an arrow whizzing through the air.
The prince slowed down and watched as the arrow hit the animal.
He looked over at her, shouted: “I’ve never seen a woman ride like that! I thought you were flying.”
She looked around and realized she was surrounded by men. All the ladies were far behind, riding daintily through the woods, making their way to the scene of the kill. She felt self-conscious suddenly, stabbed by a pang of fear. Had she given herself away?
She looked back at him, but he was riding ahead now, to where the animal was staggering in a small clearing, the men gathering around it. It was so light, she saw, much lighter than the beasts they were riding on.
Everyone was clapping, laughing, as the creature fell, the sunlight pouring over it like butter. It cried out with a terrible bleating noise, looking around with terrified black eyes, and the forest smelled of blood and dying. She remembered, suddenly, her birthday, all the human men screaming, crying as the ship split apart, the men in the water clawing to get back to the surface.
She looked over and saw that Christopher was watching her. He was no longer on his horse. Keeping his eyes on hers, he walked to her, exuberant, bright, as full of life as the animal was full of dying, and she felt exhilarated and horrified by all of it, all at once.
This is why I’m here, she thought. Him.
She focused on him, on his weed-colored eyes, and it all slipped away, the smell of blood and death and fear, the loud celebration.
He reached out his hand and helped her off her horse.
“You do not like to see the animal dying, do you?” he asked.
She shook her head. This was not at all like the ocean, where there was not this hunting, these wounds, this slow, bloody dying. The animal seemed nearly human.
“I have been raised around these woods. I’ve lived here my entire life. I wish you could tell me where you came from, where you are not used to such things.”
He nodded to a guard, who nodded back, and then he was leading her away from the hunt and into the forest. Suddenly everyone else was gone. The leaves and brush crunched under their feet.
After a short walk, they came to a river. She rushed forward and peered in, looking for fish, for mermaids, for shells and pearls. A tiny ocean, she thought. Exhilarated, she kicked off her shoes, picked up the hem of her dress, and walked in. The water was cold, freezing, but she reveled in the feel of her feet sinking into the muck, the muddy water, the tiny fish snaking past. She laughed, soundlessly, and reached out, caught a tiny fish in her fingers and nearly popped it in her mouth before catching herself. She opened her hand and released it.
A breeze ruffled by, and birds swooped down from overhead, their wings spread on either side. She watched, tears coming down her face. The birds were like fish, and if she closed her eyes she could believe she was on the ocean floor, fish swooping down from overhead, the feel of the sand under her.