The White Flower and the Imp - Sex Stories

The White Flower and the Imp

... slowly. “If you do not wander away from the lands I hold power in, your safety will be an absolute certainty.” But then the crone had stopped, before leaving her with a parcel of instructions written in ink, her tone turning serious as she drew herself closer to Genevieve. “But heed my words, child. The inhabitants of these parts are terrible beasts that have no inkling of honor and morality as we know it. Trust no one.” Genevieve had wondered if the same applied to the crone herself. After a considerable amount of time, though Genevieve could not tell exactly how long it had been for time seemed to elapse differently in this realm, her leather satchel had practically filled itself with a myriad of herbs, weeds, and plant stems. But the white petal flower, that Hilda had said Genevieve would find on the undergrowth that grew on the border of the woods by the clearing, was still nowhere to be found. And, to exacerbate her situation, Genevieve was certain that something was stalking her. It had started out as an irrational inclination, the feeling of impending doom steadily morphing into the sensation of being watched. But as Genevieve had walked further and further away from the land near Hilda’s earth mound, the feelings had proven justified when the sound of scampering feet moving through fallen leaves had begun to trail just behind her. It was a terrible hunter, moving obstreperously enough so that Genevieve had a vague understanding of the distance between herself and ...

... whatever it was that was out there. She would turn with her weapon drawn, certain it was right behind her, her arm lunging with force enough to hack into a man, but nothing would be there, and the steel would merely clash into a dense root or split a plant in two. It was out there again, just now, she was certain. Genevieve turned once more, only this time, she caught a glimpse of a red, clawed foot and a hooked tail disappearing behind a tree. And Genevieve ran. Her childhood training and her father’s voice telling her to watch her footing, to carefully measure her steps with calculated tact, were ripped from her mind by the fear of what she had seen and her blind sprint was only interrupted when she tripped on an exposed root and fell against a thick trunk that tore at her dress with its bark. When she steadied herself, Genevieve whirled around with her blade extended and when she was met with the emptiness of the forest, she sheathed her blade quickly and began running again. Genevieve broke through the line of trees and ran into the shore of the lake, struggling to catch her breath. She faced the woods with her back against the waters, but upon remembering the warm embrace of the doppelganger, she turned to and fro, until the tears welled in her eyes and she fell to her knees and wept. She was lost. The gods were surely punishing her for trying to take the matter of her son’s life into her own hands and going against their will. Wind swept hair into her eyes and something ...