Jillian Chantal

This week’s authors of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt scout. I’ve been AWOL as some things in my life are taking precedence over writing at the moment. I am trying to get a groove back, but be patient with me. This is from a new release (time travel) coming soon – I have the edits back but still working on polishing.

Check out the other tales here.

Following behind her, he realized after about an hour that he recognized a copse of tall bushes in the distance.

Reaching out to touch her arm, he said, “Wait.”

She stopped and pivoted to face him. “What?”

“I recognize some of this terrain.” He pointed ahead. “Specifically, that one group of bushes over there.”

“Then let us make haste to it and see what we can discover.” Rowena strode toward the area with purpose.

Pembroke held back his laughter. A woman walking like a man but in a gown and cloak made for some amusement. He would never let her know he thought it was humorous though. He sensed she might be easy to offend when it came to his opinion. After all, he may have been the only other person she had ever had a conversation with besides her caretakers who he preferred to think of as her gaolers. He needed to tread lightly on her sensibilities.

Glancing over her shoulder, she called out into the wind which threatened to waft her words away, “Hurry. Are you not curious?”

He was more than curious and maybe more than a little frightened. What power had brought him here and would it take him back? And to what?

There was nothing to do but go forward toward the future. Or was it the past?

Increasing his pace, he soon caught up to her and they arrived at the bushes. There was a bit of scrub brush and some bare sticks coming up from the ground. He presumed they were really weeds that would come back in the spring.

“Which one did you wake under?” Rowena was on her hands and knees, feeling around on the ground. “Was it a soft space? I have found a couple of spots that have a thick layer of moss. That would have been a lot more comfortable than some of the areas with a lot of roots.”

“I cannot rightly say. I remember waking up. I do not really recall how the sleep was. If I was on a root, you would think I would remember that.” Pembroke bent down to her level. “Let me scout around. Maybe I will be able to recognize my make-shift bed.”

He moved around the copse, lying down here and there and trying to place where he might have been when he woke.