Sanctuary at Iron Mountain

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

Sanctuary at Iron Mountain

By Plot Roach

The young girl raced through the woods, egged on by the calls of the men who hunted her. She ducked under a tree branch just in time to avoid knocking herself unconscious, though the limb scratched her across the face and scattered leaves across her path. Her breath came in short gasps and she was forced to pause in the shade of a giant pine in order to regain her bearings.

A snap of a fallen tree limb and the calls of their dogs lead her to believe that they came closer to her with every heartbeat. She scanned the horizon through the trees and glimpsed Iron Mountain. If she could only get there before the men caught up with her, she could hide with her mother’s family. But the mountain seemed so far away and the men so close.

The sun pulled itself behind the mountain where she sought sanctuary. She could no continue running in the dark, but surely the men following her would not let a thing like the darkness keep them from their quarry. Choking back a sob, the girl smelled wood smoke. There, just thirty feet away and tucked into the side of a hill like some fairy tale cottage, was a home. She had not seen it at first because of how well it blended into the surrounding landscape. Perhaps she could persuade the owner to give her asylum from her hunters.

She dashed across the forest and pounded upon the door, wishing with all of her heart to be spared from the hunters’ wrath. When the door swung open, an old woman stepped aside, bidding her to enter the dwelling with the motion of one hand.

Once inside, the girl braced herself against one earthen wall while the old woman locked the door behind them. “Now, my dear.” the old woman cackled. “What is it that has sent you like a chased deer to my little home?”

“The men” the girl panted. “The church sent them… To look for witches… To exterminate them… And I…”

“They think that you are one of the godless ones and seek to redeem you in the eyes of God?” the old woman asked, a steely sharpness entered her eyes, yet her smile never faded. The girl merely nodded, still trying to catch her breath.

“Do you have someone to go to, my little dear?”

“If I can get away from them and get to Iron Mountain.”

“Good.” the woman said, and then pointed to the back door. “Go out the back way and I will keep them busy while you flee.”

“But they’ll hurt you as well, if they suspect that you aided me.”

“Oh, I’ve been known to handle a hunter or two in my day. And I’m not too old to defend myself in my own den.” the old woman said as she handed a bag to the girl. “Now here are enough provisions to get you to your kin, my lovely. And do not tarry, for I expect the men shall be here shortly.”

And with that, the old woman ushered her out the back door and onto the path of the girl’s freedom. Once inside her home, the old woman stoked the fire of her hearth and waited for the hunters. She did not have to wait long, and had barely unlocked the door before the men barged past her looking for the child.

“Where is she, old woman? We tracked her here.” said the leader. He was dressed in the fine robes of his religious station. He looked about her home with obvious distaste tattooing his features. And the old woman knew that he considered it beneath himself to dirty the hem of his robes by chasing after some filthy peasant child through the pagan woods. The rest of his men stood idly by, the chase had winded them and they wished for nothing more than warm food and soft beds.

“Where is the witch, wench?!” the priest demanded.

That was when the rest of his men noticed that something was amiss. The hounds that they had used to track the girl did not enter the old woman’s hut, but paused at the threshold. They whined and whimpered, their eyes rolling in their heads as if in pain or madness. The woman waved a hand at them and turned them into a flock of sparrows which raced off into the gathering darkness. The door slammed shut, locking the men in, as the hearth fire swelled in size behind the shadowed form of the old woman. At last her smile faded as she regarded the priest in his stained finery. “I’m so glad you could join me.” she whispered. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve had someone over for dinner.”

The girl, who had been racing through the darkened wood, heard the screams of the men and offered a prayer for the safety of the old woman. The path before her was lit by the full moon and the bag weighted heavily upon her back as she made her way to sanctuary.