For Arlene Medder
For Arlene Medder
Once Hamlet had stalked off, Ophelia focused her eyes, but remained floating until she was certain he'd gone. She righted herself as quietly as possible, cursing her waterlogged gown as she climbed up the bank, hissing oaths. Finally free of the water, she crept a nearby clearing where she had left a horse and saddlebags. Stripping off the gown, she pulled on dry men's clothing, thick jacket, and boots. The gown, she stuffed into one of the bags, along with the useless kid slippers. Later she would pull the pearls and gems from the embroidery for sale. The jewelry she'd worn, she tucked into a pouch inside her shirt. Winding her hair into a knot on the top of her head, she hid it under a battered hat, and smeared her cheeks with grime.
After one last glance at Elsinore, she mounted the horse and followed a game trail deeper into the forest, and away from the man she'd been cursed to marry.