Goldenrod fished out her cell phone. “That might be it. I’m not getting any signal.”
With tents hiding the few campfires around, the greatest source of light was above them. Newman looked up. “Wasn’t the Moon gibbous? Now it looks half full.”
“No, it’s a crescent,” said Elderberry. Their eyes followed each other's pointing arms. The foursome looked silently between the two moons. There really weren’t any curse words strong enough.
“What the hell?” snapped Beargut. “Seriously, what the hell is going on?”
“We’re someplace else. Not where we should be.” Newman’s face was a professional mask of calm, not something Goldenrod had seen on him before.
Elderberry whimpered and sat down. Beargut knelt next to her and wrapped his arms around her.
“If we moved . . .” Goldenrod paused for thought. “What moved us?”
Newman didn’t answer. He turned his head back and forth, checking for threats in the unknown woods.
“Belladonna. I’d wondered why she’d asked the gods’ protection on the whole camp. Usually we just call them to the circle. That bitch!” Goldenrod sprinted back to the circle. Newman followed, impressed with her ability to run in ankle-length skirts. His tunic kept getting caught between his knees and tripping him.
Belladonna was alone, packing candles and tables into a wheeled box.
“What did you do?” demanded Goldenrod.
“What we all asked for, my dear,” said the priestess.
“I wanted more! I didn’t want to give up everything, everyone I already had!”
“Maybe you should have phrased yourself more carefully.”
“Bullshit. Something like this doesn’t happen because of vague words. You set it up. Take us back.”
Belladonna smirked. “The gods’ gifts are not to be spurned.”
“It’s your will I’m spurning. Undo what you did!”
Belladonna laughed.
Goldenrod knocked her flat.
Newman was impressed. He hadn’t thought she could pack that much of a wallop.
“Punish me all you wish,” said the prone priestess. “It’s done. Welcome to your new home.”
Goldenrod kicked her in the stomach.
“You’re spending the rest of your life here.” Belladonna laughed.
As Goldenrod drew back for another kick Newman grabbed her shoulder. “Wait! We need to find out how she did it. With all of us working together maybe we can find a way to get home.”
Belladonna rolled to her feet and started running. “You can’t. I didn’t do it alone,” she said over her shoulder. Goldenrod gave chase, Newman close behind.
The priestess followed the shortest path through the tents to the woods. As she disappeared between the trunks Newman grabbed Goldenrod’s arm. “We can’t follow her in there.”
“She’s getting away!”
“We don’t know what’s in these woods. There could be something dangerous. It’s night.”
Goldenrod pulled her arm free but stood still. “I hope the worst thing ever happens to you!” she yelled into the woods.
***
Constable liked patrolling in the wee hours. It was quiet, the parties were smaller, and people were calmer. A dwindling party would invite him to help finish off a bottle. An achy matron was willing to gossip. Some other insomniacs weren’t feeling chatty. They traded polite nods with him.
He kept his path inside the outer ring of tents. People heading off to the bushes didn’t want anyone spotting them. It wasn’t his job to keep them out of trouble. He just watched for people in trouble in camp.
That girl in the black dress looked to be in some trouble. Constable watched her long enough to be sure the limp wasn’t from tripping over a tent stake. She was hunched over and clutching herself. “My lady, are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m, I’m fine.” She didn’t look up. Her dress was filthy, dirt and pine needles all over the back.
“May I escort you to your tent?”
She recognized his tabard. “Yes, thank you, Constable.”
“Where are you staying?”
“With the Green Stag.”
“Lean on me, lass.” He guided her around the tents. When they reached his destination he lifted the tent flap and followed her in. “Lady Burnout! Sorry to wake you ma’am, but this one’s for you.”
Belladonna tried to step back, bouncing off Constable’s broad belly. Lady Burnout switched on the battery-powered lantern by her cot. The light revealed the chiurgeon’s tent, examining table in the middle. “What's the matter?”
“Nothing,” said Belladonna.
Lady Burnout threw off her blanket. Her nightgown was thicker than Belladonna’s dress. She stood and held up the lantern before the younger woman’s face. “Split lip, bruises, black eye. Right. Have a seat on the table and we’ll take a look at your nothing.”
Constable excused himself, letting the flap fall closed.
“I just fell.”
“Uh-huh. Well, let me see how bad the fall was so I know what pain meds to give you.” Burnout studied Belladonna’s walk as she stepped to the table and stiffly hoisted her hips onto the edge. The chiurgeon circled the table then stopped in front of her patient. “Where’s it hurt the most?”
“All over. My legs, I guess.”
“Okay.” Lady Burnout hung the lantern from a hook and opened a box of swabs. “Did you get right up or lay there a bit?”
“Took a few minutes to catch my breath.”
Burnout grabbed Belladonna’s ankle and yanked straight up. The patient fell on her side with a screech. The cotton swab swiped between her legs. “You bitch! How dare you!”
Ziplocks were stored under the table. Burnout dropped the swab into one and squeezed the air out. “Poor woman's rape kit.”
“I didn’t consent to that!”
“No. But I’ve seen dozens like you come into the ER so I know tomorrow, after a nap and a meal and a shower, you’ll decide you want to press charges after all. But it’s too late to get a sample then. So you didn’t consent, this can’t be used as evidence, but when tomorrow you decide to consent the sample will be waiting.”
“I wasn’t raped.”
“You're just
