Purple Ribbons - BFF prompt

Chloe came very close to throwing the trainer as far and hard as her anger would allow. Common-sense prevailed. Yes, the heel was hanging off, but better half a shoe than none. She steeled herself to do violence to a hundred pounds-worth of trainer, gripped the rubber hard and yanked. Throwing the broken heel at the nearest tree wasn't enough, but it helped a bit. She groped in her mini backpack, aware just how unprepared she was, dragged out a pair of thin, leather gloves and shoved one into the shoe. It would serve until she found the trail again. Worse things could happen than a blister on her heel.

She stood up, wriggling her toes, shifting her foot, trying to get it comfortable, all the while surveying the track. What the hell had possessed her? All of a sudden she'd had the urge to go off-road. Maybe it was boredom; she did run that trail every morning. Who knew? Whatever it had been, she was now well and truly lost. She'd tried to run back along her route but somehow she'd ended up even more turned around. The path, little more than an animal track now, barely visible in the lush summer grass and foliage, branched frequently.

“Ok” Chloe announced to the flora and fauna – at least she assumed there were fauna in here making trails - “Once more unto the breach...”

Going back didn't seem to be helping so forward ho. She had some idea that if she kept turning one way she'd end up in a circle, so alternating rights and lefts might be a better option. She set off, limping slightly, wincing as pebbles and sticks tried to take up residence in her holey shoe, trying not to look up. The clouds were lowering, the sky darkening, the light waning. Time to dig up her scant camping knowledge, her even thinner layer of woodsman-ship. She might actually have to spend the night.

No watch, no cell, not even a map! What the hell was she thinking? Chloe jogged along, alternating her turns as they appeared, the trail occasionally widening into a track, only to close in again, disappear under bushes, dead-end in boggy ground, split yet further. She couldn't help thinking she was going deeper. The final straw was the reappearance of a shrub covered in pale white blossom. She knew she'd passed it at least once, maybe twice; it had a purple ribbon fluttering from one branch.

Chloe idly plucked the ribbon, vaguely wondering if some family had passed here, some child mourning the loss of a favourite frippery, running it over her fingers, considering her position. She had to find somewhere dry and sheltered. It may have been a glorious day, but the night would be chilly, maybe even wet. She walked now, running likely to cost her the sight of somewhere suitable. Also, much as she hated to admit it, proud of her fitness levels, she was damn tired. Stress probably. Maybe sleep was best. A chance to regroup, start afresh in the morning. With twilight closing in the chances of missing the right route were too great.

Eventually she found a hollow in a fallen tree. It leant against a stony rock-face, created something approximating a tent, and she was too tired to look for anything better. She crawled in amongst the dried leaves, wrinkled her nose against the faint smell of earth and mould, then setted her back to the bark. Her pack served as a pillow and she slept before she had time to think.

Pain. Followed sharply by panic, tension in her body, her mind alert the instant she woke. Her back and neck screamed as she hurtled to her feet, stiff from the uncomfortable night on the forest floor. It took her a minute to work out why she had woken so suddenly. Another moment and she would never have known, but she was fast enough to notice the faintest odour, a whiff of sweat and something more, tantalisingly familiar, but she couldn't place it at first.

Grabbing her pack, shaking her head to clear sleepy residuals, Chloe began to chase the scent. She knew sweat. That was easy. It also meant a person had passed by, probably a man from the power of it, the ability to linger. The underlying smell was driving her crazy. It didn't really matter. If she could find the man she could find her way out, but her mind wouldn't let it go. Later, thinking about it, she never knew why she didn't call out, yell for help. Something held her silent and when she rounded a bend, saw a new fork in the path, wider and smoother now, she was glad.

Another of those pale-blossomed bushes stood to the left. If she hadn't already seen that flash of colour the previous day maybe she wouldn't have noticed. Maybe it was just luck, coincidence that she had seen, handled one purple ribbon and here was another. It hung limply, barely visible, wrapped tightly around a branch and smothered with blossoms, but she saw it. Thoughtfully, fingering this second ribbon, drawing the other from her pocket, where she had dumped it without any conscious thought, Chloe wondered.

The sweat scent had long since died away. She presumed she had fallen too far behind. The man ahead knew his way, she was fumbling, guessing, hoping. She didn't have to guess any longer. Maybe he didn't know, or didn't care. A long trail of some white powder meandered ahead of her, some burst package, perhaps groceries, marking the passage of this man... who smelled of sweat and hair oil. It had been so long since her grandpa had died, so many years since she'd smelled his hair oil on the chair-backs, but it came to her now, and it made her cautious.

Grandpa had scared the living crap out of her over the first twelve years of her life. She never really knew if he'd meant to be funny, if he'd thought she found his antics hilarious, but chasing her around his farmyard with a variety of freshly slaughtered animal heads, waving an axe and yelling that he was comin' for her had made him the stuff of her nightmares. She hadn't been sad when he died, just relieved she'd never have to smell blood and hair oil again. Now, now it gave her pause and she slowed in her pursuit of the man ahead.

She'd been too focussed on getting home, to a bath and clean clothes, food and drink. She'd forgotten every single thing she'd been taught about staying safe, a woman alone. Yes, she was going to follow him home, or wherever he was going, in the hope of getting out of this mess, but slowly now, with caution and forethought. She started following again, her eyes on the track, her hand wrapped tight around the large rock she'd plucked from the verge.

Ten minutes brought her within the scent of applewood smoke and the sound of someone doing something watery. She sidled up, creeping through the bushes, parting them enough to let her see what turned out to be a house, decrepit, unloved. The yard was filled with a strange assortment of drying animal skins, the corpses of ancient cars and scrap of every description. She got her first look at the man, as scruffy as his yard, bearded, overalled, hair oiled back from a heavy brow. He bent with his back to her. She could see some sort of tub, water splashing frantically. Washing his dog maybe.

The next moment had her clapping her hand to her mouth to silence herself. The man stood, hauling a young girl from the tub by her arm. She was young, no more than ten, emaciated, hair matted, eyes sunken, bruised with pain and terror. She stood naked and shivering violently, the man surveying her with the kind of smile Chloe knew too well. She'd seen it on every predatory man at every club she'd ever been too.

She didn't think, simply threw. The stone left her hand, flew in a perfect arc and hit the man in the temple with the kind of satisfying thud you only hear in the movies. He crumpled, hit the floor and Chloe was already running, the girl frozen in place. Chloe scooped her up, cradled her to her chest and kept running. The other side of the yard brought her to a car. It was about the only clean item in the yard, the keys still dangling. She bundled the girl into the passenger seat, dived in, turned the keys and began backing up. The track behind had to go somewhere, anywhere. As they hit a bend and Chloe swung the car around, she watched the man get up, start running, saw him snatch a rifle from against the wall of the house. She gunned the engine...

Later, wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot chocolate, she listened to the officer. She'd made it to the next town, headed straight to the police station. Now she heard the young officer telling her the child had been missing for two years, her parents were on their way, the man was being brought in. None of it seemed real, and she was glad when a female officer brought the little girl over. That she could deal with.

The girl smiled shyly, her words halting, uncertain, as she tried to express her thanks, each attempt punctuated by an attempt to push her hair out of her eyes. Chloe reached into her pocket, a quiet sense of inevitablity passing over her as she held out the purple ribbons.

“Hey, maybe these will help? I think they might be yours.”

The girl's delicate, dirt-encrusted fingers closed around the tattered scraps, her smile brilliant in her begrimed face.

“My best ribbons!”