But a part of her said she needed to focus, because there was danger. If she wanted to live, she needed to not be unconscious right now.
Another smack of her head shook her back into consciousness. Her eyes weren’t working. There was a sweet taste in her mouth, but it wasn’t the chocolate.
Her whole body shook, vibrated and moved. She was moving, being moved.
Hooves and wheels. Recognition of the sounds came to her. She was being taken somewhere, but she was still alive. For how long? What would they do when they reached where they were taking her? Kill her? There was a good possibility.
Could she plead with them? Offer them money? That hadn’t worked for Oliver or Mr. Carter. This person intended her harm, and they were taking her to where they were going to inflict it.
In sheer panic, she moved, but something held her down. It wasn’t hands. A blanket of some kind. It smelled terribly. With her hands, she tried to move it, but stopped. The person would hear her, and she didn’t want them to. They might hit her again if they knew she was conscious.
The taste was still in her mouth. She must have been drugged in some way. Where was she? How long had she been there?
Another stone under the wheels smacked her head.
Calm, she told herself. Panic would lead to disaster. Think.
A canvas of some kind was over her. it was too dark to see anything. It stunk and made it hard to breathe, even harder to not scream in panic and fear. Somehow, she managed to calm herself.
The horse was continuing at pace. Not sprinting or cantering. It was just trudging along. Were they getting close to where they were going?
With searching hands, she felt along the canvas. It was tied. She’d been hidden under it. This was how Oliver must have been transported. Mr. Carter too. Drugged and taken away on this cart.
With shaking fingers, she searched, intermittently stopping and listening to see if the driver was noticing. Perhaps there was someone watching her, but they didn’t seem to have noticed her squirming under the canvas.
Blackness was pressing on her, because she couldn’t see anything, and panic was pressing on her mind. She wanted to scream and scream, and never stop, but she couldn’t. They may kill her if she did. Hit her until she lost consciousness again. They clearly didn’t want her conscious.
Her hand slipped out of something and she felt it was much cooler, but as she pushed, the canvas was restrained. Tied down.
As quietly as she could, she shifted closer and reached as much as her arm through as she could, a hole in the road knocking it painfully on the edge of the cart, but she ignored it. Stretching as far as she could, the canvas pressed painfully on her arm, but she reached a knot. It was too hard to undo, too tight from the position she was in. Her fingers wouldn’t grip it. Didn’t have the strength.
Fumbling with the knot, she tried to undo it, but it wouldn’t budge. Panic enveloped her again. She wasn’t going to get out of this. But then she found something to tug and it shifted. Suddenly the pressure of the canvas gave when the knot undid itself. The gap was only small, but she could see the faint outline of the moon above clouds. It was nighttime.
Pressing her body through the gap, she hung out the side of the cart, the wheel worryingly close. There was no easy way of doing this, no safe way. She simply had to drop into the darkness below her. But there was a good chance they would notice. It was quiet other than the steps of the horse and the creaking of the cart and wheels.
Her dropping like a sack of potatoes would make a sound, but there was nothing else she could do. It was the only way out of this cart, and going legs first wasn’t an option.
There was nothing else for it, but to do it. Shifting her body further out, her foot pressed on something which scraped on the back to the cart. She heard the reaction. The driver had heard the noise and was making to investigate.
It was now. The only chance she had, and with all her strength, she heaved her body out of the cart.
Pain met her as she crashed into the ground. A man swore and drew in the horse. They knew. They had noticed her attempt to escape.
Scrambling, she got caught in her own skirts. It wouldn’t allow her to rise, so she rolled out of the way. Away from the light cast by the lamp in front of the cart.
Rolled and fell, picking up momentum of its own and she rolled faster, completely out of control. Every part of her body was being hit. One hit on her head so hard, it shook her consciousness for a moment. All this tumbling and violence was taking her away from the man and the cart, from danger.
How far she tumbled, she had no idea. It seemed endless, and she would be bloody and battered from this. But her consciousness held, and somehow, she stopped. She must have fallen thirty feet.
Every single part of her body ached. She heard the man swearing again, and she saw him moving the lantern off its post. It was definitely a man, and he swore in unfamiliar words, but it was clear he was looking for her.
Her panic was sharp and deep, but she held her breath, trying to get her bearing. Above her, the man kept looking for her, shining the light around to see her. He would come down here when he saw her.
Rising up, her skirts gave her room this time,
