'Virgin Run' OR 'Bares in the Woods'.
****Monique smoothed her robes and watched as the town Burgomaster stood
atop the wooden stage that had been
constructed three days previously for this event. Around her, various
families like her own stood watching and waiting for the
start of the "Virgin Run". Several spectators, most of them young males
and various thieves and scoundrels, had come to
witness the event as well. Eevn the land itself seemed to be waiting
today. The clouds where as thick and black as usual, but
where still in the sky, as if paused. There was little wind, and the
creatures of the forest where even silent. Monique thought it
more likely that they had run from the throng that now assembled on the
outskirts of their home from the nearby town. But she
was possesed with a strange uneasiness all the same. This gloomy land
had always been a source of foreboding for her...and
she feared it as she feared the Count in his castle so far away...
The Burgomaster, David, read from the parchment before him for near half
an hour in his booming voice. He read it as it
should be read, however, with reverance. It spelled out the run and what
it represented...what it was. Each two years, all girls
of virtue true over the age of fifteen were stripped of their clothes
and set loose in the forests with nothing but a long, curved
dagger made from silver, it's handle fashioned from the horns of one of
the great, dark lizards that lived in the mountains. They
were then left in the forest for two weeks to survive....to become
strong women....to learn of the limitations and strengths of
their newly developing bodies as well as the strengths and weaknesses of
their own hearts, minds and souls. This was the test
of Woman. Those who survived went on to produce only the healthiest
children, have the most loving husbands and lead the
most rewarding lives. Men underwent other tests. A multitude from which
to choose actually. Some would even patrol the
borders of the woods to catch those not strong enough to bear life in
the wood. These men wore furs and leathers.....fine silks
and cloaks....rode horses and carried swords. Monique had heard of the
young girls fantasy of the knight in shining armor that
was part of the dreams of young women in other towns. These stories only
reminded her of these men who patroled the
borders during "The Run"....and she would shiver....for being claimed
and "saved" by one of these men was something she
only feared...not lusted or dreamed for. Other men could choose to
furfill one of the other criteria of "The Virgin Run". They
could seek out the unicorn in lands far and wide and bring it back to
their town to be held until "The Run" commenced.
For each second year, a single unicorn would also be let loose in the
thick, dark forest. The "bordermen" who roamed outside
the forest wall were not to touch or wound the creature if it happened
to venture from the wood....simply turn it back...back
into the trees and scrub until "The Run" was over (if only this were
what happened to the oung women who ventured from the
forest before i was time....for if a borderman found her....he would
have permission to slaughter her...eventually). And so all
the virgins of the town and a single unicorn would wander and feed on
what they could find for three weeks. And if a girl was
to find the unicorn...she would have to slay it with her only protection
(her dagger)...bring back it's horn when the time was
over...and she would be proclaimed the queen of "The Run" and receive
great wealth....a fantastic home built for her...and her
choice of man to hold her tight at night and protect her from harm.
Monique and the other fourteen girls were called forward after the
burgomaster had finished and were collected at the edge of
the forest. There they lined themselves up and undressed....handing
their clothes to their mothers (whose eyes filled with tears
but voices spoke of how necessary it all was...how it is for the
best...how it was the greatest moment in THEIR lives). The
girls would endure the whistling and lurid glances of the young men and
scoundrels behind them in the crowd (who usually
copped punches and bruising from concerned fathers who also watched from
the crowd as their little princess was given a
dagger and told to protect...and kill)
And upon the final blessing, with the still clouds beginning to glow red
as the sun set, Monique and the other gils ran into the
woods.
Monique did well for herself....she never went hungry...she never got
sick....she avoided most cuts and bruises....she
constructed shelter....and she watched and searched for the horn of the
sacred unicorn.
Then one day she learned a very important lesson, one that most
girls....most townsfolk in fact...probably didn't know or didn't
want to know.
She had spent the morning collecting some berries and caching a rabbit
for her makeshift larder and was hunting for the
unicorn when she was alerted to a presence of something large and
bestial in the bushes near where she crouched (as she had
found the hoof-marks of the beast). It was not the unicorn, as in the
gloom of the forest she had seen dark brown hair. She
was scared, more than she had been the second night when the storm
brought darkness and rain into her new world, more
than when part of her shelter fell to pieces one day and threatened to
bring the rest down....she was truly frightened now and
remembered stories from her days in town leading up to "The Run".
Stories of thieves and Rogues who snuck from the town
and past the vigilant bordermen (also keeping things OUT as well as in)
to seek out the pretty naked flesh of the young women
who roamed the woods all alone for their own perverted amusements.
Stories of girls who had the skill and courage to protect
themselves from these 'hungry' men. But also stories of young women who
could not protect themselves.....lost their
daggers....and soon, weakened by the break in their defenses, in their
virtue...could not complete "The Run"....and died in
these woods. She gripped her dagger and watched the bushes and the shape
inside them. Suddenly the shape stopped and
raised it's head into the air...it had her scent. She saw the massive
head of a great and fearsome wolf before she turned and
fled. 'Was this worse than a 'hungry' man?' she thought to herself as
she ran between tree and bush and thicket. Her arms held
up to protect her as branches and tigs scratched and tore her arms and
breasts and face. But she could not slow, as behind
her the wolf also crashed through the scrub...wicked jaws full of sharp
canine teeth ready to bite into her young and tender
flesh.
Monique tripped and fell upon an exposed root, launching herself into a
tree and smashing her shoulder into its trunk. She
dropped her dagger....and gripping the shoulder with her weapon-hand,
cried aloud in pain and fear....she dropped her dagger
and turned to face the wolf that crashed through the scrub behind her.
It stopped once it lept from the bushes and saw her
lying at the base of the tree. One beast and one beast only howls in the
woods by night. Night was falling. The wolf licked its
chops and bared its vicious teeth...it's fur rising on its back and legs
preparing to spring. A deep growl assailed Monque's ears
between the sounds of her own tears and moaning. The wolf lept....and
was pinned to the ground, a spear running through its
chest and into the ground underneath it. Blood....rich, dark, crimson
blood...spewed from the lanced heart and open jaws of
the dead beast. Monique looked to the bushes to her
left...startled...her tears forgotten. A man stepped out....she
shuddered
and screamed and tried to scramble away but she had also twisted her
ankle in the fall and could not get up...and her aching
shoulder made it impossible to crawl...so she huddled into a ball at the
feet of the approaching man, and begged to be left
alone....to be left virtuous and strong. A hand soflty caressed her
shoulder and a deep voice whispered in her ear "Don't be
frightened, Monique, I'm not here to 'feed' on you like the wolf might
have...I'm here to help...my...you have given this
shoulder quite a whack!". Monique let go of her legs and slowly uncurled
from her foetal position in the dirt...and watched in
awe as the man lay his hands first upon her shoulder and then her
ankle....his long slender hands glowing with a golden
light...and then her pain was gone. The man grinned and looked in her
eyes then. She suddenly realised she was naked and
tried to cover herself. "I understand..." nodded the man....and turned
away from her to protect her modesty, walking over to
the wolf and pulling the spear from its dead body.
Monique watched the man and was confused. He did not wear clothes she
had ever seen before. A long black....cloak? And
his footwear looked like leather but was white and covered with words in
blue ink. "Who...?"
"Venkman....I'm not one of your heartless bordermen if that's what
you're thinking...in fact...I don't even come from around
here..." she watched him look around the forest, leaning against a tree.
His back was still to her, and she took the opportunity
to get up and move behind a bush to cover herself.
The man cocked his head a little as if listening to her movements...and
then stood up and said something in a voice she could
not understand. Suddenly he began to change shape amidst a swirling
cloud of crackling blue and purple energy...Monique
covered her open mouth with a hand as she watched the man known as
Venkman turn into a unicorn....the unicorn...with it's
spear growing from it's forehead...and start to trot off into the woods.
Just before it vanished from sight...it turned back to her
and raised it's head....as if to nod at her...snorted...and then
continued off into the wood.
Monique did not hunt after that. But survived "The Run"...like eight
others.
No-one came home with the unicorn's horn that year.