The King's Executioner by Donna Fletcher

whenever she walked in the woods, but these trees did not merely whisper. They were clear voices, guiding her.
    Watch where you step.
    Go to the right of the large oak.
    A stream waits ahead, passed the hedge and around the pine.
    Drink your fill, then rest.
    Anin tugged at his hand to go right at the towering oak tree. “We must go this way.”
    “Why?” Paine asked, stopping.
    Anin remained silent for several moments, wondering how to explain to him what she was hearing, when Bog began to sniff the air. “I thought I heard a running stream and I believe that is what Bog smells.”
    She tugged at his hand again and he followed. His curiosity grew as he watched as she turned at a hedge, as if she knew her way, and went around a large pine to bring them to a flowing stream.
    “How beautiful,” Anin said, admiring the graceful curves as the stream meandered along stone banks with lovely purple heather hugging the stone. Slim birch trees were plentiful and an overcast sky seemed like a brilliant sun after the darkness of the surrounding forest.
    They heard Bog lapping up water and saw that he had followed a path that took him to a sandy section where it met the stream.
    Paine and Anin hurried along to drink of the cool water.
    He finished before Anin and waited until she was done before asking, “How did you know this was here?” When it appeared she was not sure how to answer, he reminded her of what she had once told him. “You favor the truth from me, so I ask the same of you.”
    If she trusted him, why did she hesitate to answer him? She could not say and that troubled her all the more. Since meeting Paine, things had begun to change. Her secret, as her mum called it, was growing stronger and she no longer could hide it away... and she did not want to. She was beginning to realize that the secret was a natural part of her. How or why, she could not answer, but perhaps one day that secret would be revealed to her.
    “Your delay in responding makes me think you keep something from me or is it that you do not truly trust me?”
    Bog’s head turned at the same time Paine’s did.
    “Footfalls,” Paine whispered and Bog growled.
    Fright gripped Anin. “Could the Drust have followed us?”
    “Anything is possible, though I doubt they follo—” He suddenly pushed her flat on the ground, going down with her. “Drust.”
    She saw his lips move more than heard his whisper.
    He used his hands to tell her to stay there that he would be back for her. She thought it odd that she did not argue with him that she felt safe with him leaving her there. She nodded and kept her eyes on him as he disappeared into the dark forest.
    She waited, not moving, and listened for any sounds.
    “What are you doing there kissing the ground?”
    Anin bolted to her feet at the sound of the raspy voice and was shocked to see a short, slim, old woman, leaning on a wooden staff a head taller than herself. Her gray hair was sparse and hung untamed around her face and shoulders and her garments were worn. Her round face was abundant with wrinkles, yet her blue eyes appeared young and vibrant.
    “Hiding,” Anin responded and quickly asked, “Who are you?”
    “Who are you hiding from and I am a guest here, are you?” the old woman leaned heavily on her staff as she shuffled over to a flat rock on the stone bank and sat.
    “The Drust,” Anin said, wondering how the old woman could be a guest of the Giantess. It was not as though the Giantess welcomed with open arms.
    “Bah,” the old woman said with a wave of her hand. “The Drust are too afraid to come here.”
    Anin was relieved to hear that.
    “Are you a guest?” the old woman asked again.
    Anin shook her head. “I am sorry to say we entered without permission, which we never would have done if there was any other way.”
    “That was rude of you.”
    Her scolding tongue had Anin wincing. “It was rude, and I am sorry, but we were left with little choice, and I mean no harm to