Flight
12 Days of Fiction 2019, Day 11
She had been running throughout the night, but the sun already glinted off the snow. She was barefooted, and her coat was too light for the weather, but she almost didn’t notice the bite of the cold, as befitted her people. But she knew she couldn’t run forever.
Part of her didn’t understand. Why were men always like this? Out of fear, her elders say. Fear? Fear to the unknown, us. But if they make no effort to know us, how can they stop having fear?
It hadn’t mattered last night, when they had discovered her. She had succeeded in her mission: she carried the sword, concealed as if it was some kind of human tool whose name she could not remember. She had been careful, but she had made just one mistake, and someone had seen her second pair of arms. The man had sounded the alarm. She had fled at once, taking advantage of surprise, but soon she could hear horses and hounds in pursuit. These she couldn’t outrun for long, though she was certainly going to try.
She realized now that, racing through the forest in the night, she had rent the bandages she had used to conceal the sword, just like her own garments were ripped. The scabbard was plain silver, and the set added almost no weight to her.
She jumped over a stump, red hair flaming in the cold mist, when she heard the dogs.
The men wouldn’t hear her step or breath, but the dogs would. And were the dogs went, the men would follow. They were near. Too near.
She dashed in a different direction, away from the sounds.
Too late.
She could hear the twang, and the hiss. She dodged. Under other circumstances, she could have escaped. But now, exhausted, after having sprinted through the snow all night? She felt the sharp needle of an arrow piercing her right thigh. She tried to keep upright, but her leg gave, and she fell.
She tried to hide among the chilly bushes, useless as it was. But maybe she would be lucky…
She heard barks and whinnies. Their archers may not have her in their sights, but that would soon change.
What could she do?
She heard them approaching. There was no way they’d miss her.
There was a flash of light, and something -someone- moved in front of her. And she heard a voice.
“I am here, sister. I thank you for your service. Deliver me my sword, so I can rid us of these vermin.”
And she handed her her her sword.
This is my entry for Day 11 of my 12 Days of Fiction 2019. Short and sweet, I hope.
