“Little girl! You are a long way from the village and that wolf isn’t the type of friend you need.” His dark hair shines a halo on his wavy black hair. He places his crossbow into a back sling. Flexing some exaggerated biceps for emphasis. His smile wide framed by beard and mustache. Dark eyes show clear from a hundred yards. The most up close hundred yards ever.
“Am not so little, mister hunter!” The dancer draws upright with an arch to her back to best show him where she has grown up. “I have few choices in escorts. What is a girl to do in a dark woods?! I came to the field to gather flowers for my grandmother. You are far too burly for flower gathering. You would break them to bits.”
Jezzibelle holds her ground. The man should come to her. She crosses her arms in an effort to separate the bodice a touch more. She pulls back to hood of her cape. Blonde long wavy locks spill out. A glow catches her.
The Huntsman sighs quietly. “A woman would meet me halfway! I might be able to walk you to your grandmother’s but I have things to kill. People need to eat and the jingle of coin makes my heart almost as happy as the gorgeous smile you wear. But my eyes grow weary of statues.”
She steps forward a dozen times. She brakes her stride to pick a few Black Eyed Susans. “You aren’t pricing flowers! If you want to help me…. You could go off and kill something quicker that way.” Her eyes size him up as he approaches her.
He keeps eyes forward while snaring a handful of Queen Anne’s Lace and Coneflowers in perfect stride. His eyes return the favor of seeing what he’s up against. “Two bottles of wine for such a small person. Am I intruding on another rondezvous? Maybe your interlude has another man…. Hate to be in the way.”
“Oh there’s no one else. I mean what makes you think I’m sharing the wine with someone. Grandmother needs to feel better, after all. She’s sick and all.” Her sudden answer slowly ends. Her interest in what he might do grows faster than her thought of making him keep his hands and arms elsewhere. He is so much bigger up close. Her heart sputters at being a woman for his taking. Her head spins back to her basket. There is an audible snap in the breaking of eye contact. “Maybe….I could spare a bottle to share. But only if your a gentleman. I don’t want you to have the wrong idea of me. I have a good family to think of.”
“You get what, you get little girl. No more! No less! So either open the wine, or we walk you to….that house under the Black Walnuts and Hickories. Your choice.” His eyes actually burn on her skin. He knows she is young and easy to lead astray with a touch of wine.
“Stop looking at me like that! I’m not a piece of meat. If I were, you’d kill me with that crossbow or axe. I’ll share my wine but only if we go right after its drank.” She pops the cork out of the stubby bottle. Her eyes take a drink in as she tastes dandelion wine.
The Huntsman grabs the bottle so both hands stay on together. Her smile turns smirk and a little coy. After her third drink she raises on her toes to taste second hand wine on his lips. His embrace swallows her whole. Large coarse hands kneed her like clay. His kiss takes away her breath as she fails to fight for its return. Her heart explodes. She loses her vertical world falling like a sack of flour. The dull thud muffled by rustling clothes being freed. In a faint glimpse of innocence she peeps “wait, I’m not sure about this.”
He burns through her paper resistance. Lust proves stronger again and again. Her body both given and taken. The warmth of the Sun cool in comparison to the Huntsman. Her world swings wildly.
Reality crashes through. She sees him standing above her. So much larger now. Her body strongly colder by the instant. His smile has shifted to more pride than anything.
“You said we need to make haste to grandmother’s house. Let’s straight you up a bit. You look like you got tossed a bit.” He puts out his right hand to help her up and finishes off the dandelion wine.
The trial of breadcrumbs starts here…