magicandmettle

[magicandmettle]

Posting up me first chapter of my novel! Again. Tell me watcha think :P

[magicandmettle]

Magic and Mettle

Chapter 1

Towards a Better Day

 The skeletal figure huddled in the shadows, his stiff feet turning blue. With the cold brick wall pressed against his back, he peeked out of the crook of his arm and looked at the sky.  He was worrying if there would be frost in the morning.  Not the mild frost that you find on your lawn on a cold morning that melts at the sign of light.  No, this frost is a weird phenomenon where the air will grow so frigid and still that the water in the air collects together on everything and creates little ice blossoms, glazing everything white.  Nobody goes outside around eight thirty because that’s where the sun is just at the right angle to make the crystal icicles sparkle and blind everyone stupid.  After that, the infamous heat of Arrodagona would come flooding back.  Then it was “The Slosh” for about three days, and then the “Unbearable-Heat-Why-Do-We-Live-Here-and-How-Do-We-Survive” for the rest of the cycle.  Frost was fine during the day, but at night, if you had to sleep outside (because you were homeless like a certain someone), it could… be deadly.  There had been a lot of cold winds and rain recently, so maybe it was too much for the paper-thin ice decorations to appear. Maybe he wouldn’t freeze to death. He watched his slow breaths come out as tiny clouds, interested by how the light of the moon hit it.  He was in a lot of trouble if it frosted.  A few years on the streets teaches you how to prepare for the seasons coming, but it also told you not to prepare too much.  Things could happen to your bed and meagre food supply and the other odds and ends you “collected”, and it was always sudden.  He just happened to have a particularly bad autumn and… things were looking grim.  His feet already felt like they were going to drop off from the cold.

His name was Todd.  Todd Worthington, but he wasn’t sure what the last name meant anymore.  He must be seventeen now, he thought.  Lack of a calendar or a clock made his life seem to mesh, with time being a thing that would flit about your ears once you remembered it.  But there were always days that stood out once a year, something celebratory, something that donned the twisted streets in bright lights at night and mornings did the job of painting the stones a more colourful tone of grey.  One of those days was a day where the town relished in its gothic structures and bleak colours, and decorated it in streaks of red, orange, green and purple.  It was A Hunting Witches Day.  Of course, there wasn’t ACTUAL hunting; that’d be far too dangerous.  It was just a certain day where everyone dressed up like they were going hunting or were going to be hunted and the kids went around gathering food for their ‘families’ (their own mouths) from houses. Todd didn’t really know the specifics further than “dress weirdly and grab free food”.  It was the “free food” part he liked most; took half the job out of begging and he didn’t have to resort to stealing.

Of course he had to act the part on those nights and not look homeless, so he’d always rummage through the bins of the art shop the night before and find tubes of crumpled black and white paint.  With these miserable things, he was able to squirt out just enough to smear on his face a crude skull.  It wasn’t that hard, painting on the bones; his own showed through quite well.  The rags he wore used to be fine clothing, but years on the street had withered them away and hung off his body as it would a skeleton, so he was kind of half in costume all the time.  

Since he had… run away, he had counted five A Hunting Witches Days. Five since he was twelve, so he HAD to be seventeen, soon to be eighteen in a couple weeks.  Unless somehow he’d missed a day, which wasn’t at all possible, there was free food, no force on earth could stop him from getting in on that.

He looked down at his bare feet; one of his toes had started to turn purple. He leaned down, his nest of newspapers crinkling, and rubbed his cold foot with his cold hand, trying to create some friction for warmth.  Rubbing the bare skin reminded him with some misery of how they had been wrapped in actual shoes once.  He didn’t dare try going into a shoe shop and stealing a cheap pair. He was terrible at thieving – something told him it was wrong to steal from people who were just trying to live themselves.  What if he accidentally stole an item that belonged to a dead dear relative or something? And the constant presence of vigilant, strong, fast moving guards didn’t at all have any effect on his morals.

On the verge of drifting to sleep, his nose runny and red and his throat burning, he heard a group coming near the alley way he was in.  He recognised their voices – he’d seen them around town plenty of times.  They were the kind of boys that had baby brains on bodies of brawn.  You didn’t have to wait and see what they would say or do so you could pass judgement; all you had to do was LOOK at them, and, judgement passed.  Punch them.

Of course, if Todd tried that, his hand would probably break with his twig arm so he nestled further into the newspapers and waited for them to pass by.  

“HAHAHA! Did you really do that?!” one of the boys exclaimed with far too much enthusiasm.  A guffaw replied, followed by “Yep! Pushed her into the river’n’ everything!  She practically ran home crying!” and it took Todd a moment to realise that the noises being made was laughter, not tongues being hung out with whatever noises that arrived unleashed.  

Todd began to feel peculiar.  His skin had begun to prickle (more than the cold had done to it) and it felt like… almost like he was in a spotlight.  He peeked out.  There wasn’t any light in this alley.  There was the shine of the streetlamp at the end from the other side of the road but other than that, it was deserted.  Why did he feel like someone had just pulled the curtain on him while he was in the shower? Frowning, he got up, shuffled the newspapers, covered his toes, brought in his knees and laid down.

 ‘…’

He poked his head out.

‘Seriously who’s there.’

 Outside near the streetlamp a figure stood still in the shadows, watching the group with a keen eye.  She observed them as they paused outside the alley way she had just been about to pop into.

Todd peeked at the silhouettes.  ‘Oh no, why are they outside?’ Todd whined. ‘Don’t stop there, don’t stop thereNO DON’T COME DOWN THIS WAY-’

“Oi look at this,” a figure sneered, holding a lantern.  Todd was staring straight at him but had no idea if the boy was looking at him or the pile of newspapers.  

“Yeah, that Jon, is what we call a pile o’ newspapers,” another figure answered dubiously.  Who was that? Was that the guy with the mullet?

“Nah, there’s somebody innit,” Jon seethed with a grin and viciously kicked at the pile.  They splayed and flew away, showing Todd’s shins and the game was up. He sat up, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Looks like we have a bit of a homeless beggar here guys!” Jon jeered. The others laughed.  There were about six of them.  

“Ahh, c’mon, leave him alone,” Stupid-Mullet shrugged.  “What’s he gonna do?”  Todd thought maybe he should come up with a nicer name than Stupid-Mullet; the group ignored Mullet-Boy however.  Jon leaned down on his knees.  “What’s your name?” the teenager asked.  If sarcasm were a talent, he needed more practice.  Todd squinted at him like he couldn’t actually believe they were bullying him.    

“What’s wrong, don’t have a home to go to?  Nowhere to sleep? Why aren’t you answering? Can’t you talk?” another gang member teased in a baby voice, coming in closer.  He paused.  

“Hey wait, I recognise this guy,” he said.  “He tried to steal money from my dad’s shop!”

Ah yes, he had attempted to take two lents from a business that was doing ok. How dare he.  Of course, had he known that the owner was related in some way to this group, well…

He would’ve tried to take the whole damn draw.

“He did?” Jon whipped around.  “He did!” he practically squealed.  “Well! I reckon we should call the guards on him then!”

“Oh, but it’s the middle of the night Jon.  They’ll be so tired.  We should do the job for them!” the Business-Owner’s-Son grinned something slimy.

“Right you are!” shrieked Jon.  He actually shrieked.  Todd was feeling really uneasy now.  Something was wrong with this Jon person and the group acted like they were egging him on so they could watch a show.  It was like they’d done this thing before, where poor old Jon was manipulated and sniggered at behind hands but scary enough not to outright bully.  He tried to shuffle away, though it felt a bit late.

“Let’s start with the confession,” Jon shouted and moved in like a blur.  His foot connected viciously with Todd’s ribs and he let out a yelp, turning into the brick wall.  He lay there, sprawled, winded and reeling as the group behind him hollered.

“Ew – I think I heard a crunch when I kicked him.  Did I break his ribs?”  The teenager came closer and pushed his foot into the same spot he had kicked him; he let out a painful groan.  

“Hey look! He made a sound! Maybe if we keep hitting him, we’ll get him to say a few words?”

There was laughter and someone yelled “Get’im Jon!”  

‘Oh please, please just leave me alone…’ Todd pleaded and closed his eyes, tears welling.

 “Hullo!” came a cheery voice.  Surprise tapped everybody’s shoulders.  The group turned as one, silence as thick as ice, and even Todd peeked out.  Jon had been closest to the greeter and leapt back from the beaming light at head height.

“…what is that…?” Mullet Boy breathed (but Todd was thinking of Stupid-Mullet again because Stupid-Mullet had been egging on the assault as well). Jon waved the lantern in desperation, trying to see the figure in the light but not get close.  He must have seen them, because he gasped.  

“It’s a… it’s a freak.  It’s a freak!” his voice going from hoarse to terrified.  He backed up and the rest of the group followed.

“W…WIIIITC-!” A fist shot out and punched him before he could finish his scream.  Jon dropped the lantern and clutched his bleeding nose.  It clattered to the ground and rolled towards the eyes, coming beneath a boot.

“Let’s see how you boys fare,” and her eyes pierced into theirs, “without the light.” And she crushed it.  Darkness was immediate and blinding.  Shrieks rang out and sounds of thumping, scrabbling feet, curses, crying (probably Jon) and a heck of a lot of running fired up the air. Todd had no idea what was happening in the pitch black but the pain from his broken ribs made it hard for him to think. What should he do?  Should he run?  Well if he could have, he would have done it when the gang had stood outside the alley.  He couldn’t feel his feet, and now he had an injury he could probably die from.  No, the best thing to do was to nestle back into the newspapers and hope by The Five that this stranger was rescuing him intentionally.  Maybe she would leave, and the group would leave, and he could go back to sleep.  Then tomorrow he’d go see the doctor and get it all sorted out, and he’d be fine.

He smiled, trying hard not to cry.  It’s awfully low when you’ve only got yourself to lie to.  

He noticed it had gone quiet.  There was a haze of light that picked out the shapes of a couple fallen figures on the ground.  It looked like a spotlight, and it was searching for something.  He tried backing up to the wall but a flare of fire from his ribs made him yelp again and the spotlight whipped around, the pair of glowing eyes resting on him.  He froze, winced and clutched his side, tried to freeze, winced again and fell down, wincing. Then froze successfully.  He looked at the eyes, not knowing what to do. The eyes stared back, all features of the face that held them blacked out.  They lowered themselves, the person kneeling from a distance.

“…uuugggh, hello.” Todd could barely make out the waggling fingers.  “Do, do you need… help…?”  She sounded uncertain. Of course he needed help, did he look to be in any position to offer a cuppa?!  That’s what he would’ve said; instead it came out as a gurgle of phlegm and probably blood. She looked quite strange, though he couldn’t place his finger on it.  A hood shadowed her face, and a warm looking coat with tattered tails at its ends pooled beneath her.  He couldn’t see much else in the dark but it looked like she wore pants and some boots.

“…beg your pard’n?”

Gurgling was all this person was going to get.

“…I’m gonna take that look as a yes.  Correct me if I’m wrong.”

A rasp this time.

“Ok.  Definite yes. Two rules though.  You’re not t’ try and kill me – that’s rule one.  Very important.  I will not hesitate t’punch ya.  Rule two - do not yell for the Skinna’s.  I will put you in th’ nearest bin.”

…maybe he shouldn’t go with this person.  She just threatened him like he was a possible threat.  And sounded like she meant it!  Plus, she had a weird accent; weird accents were not to be trusted.

“Wheeze if y’understood.”

He gave up.  He wheezed.

“Ok.  Good choice.”

She snaked her arms under his torso and legs and with surprising ease, lifted him up and continued to blindly walk through the darkened alley.  She crept right out through to the exit, not pausing when she stood on a hand on one of the unconscious gang members.   He snorted, and decided not to do that again.  That hurt.  Everything hurt.  Wow he was in bad shape; he was freezing, he couldn’t feel his feet, his throat was so sore it hurt to swallow, his ribs were an aching mess of pain, he felt dizzy and sweaty and desperately needed a drink. He was starting to lose it.  He felt the rhythm of the stranger’s body as they walked, and he tucked his head in, feeding off her warmth.  He didn't know this girl and had no idea what she was going to do with him now, but… he felt safe.  

“So, uh, do you havdasfgghjk…” her voice trailed off and he slipped.

 ~          ~        ~

 “So, uh, d’you have a place t’ stay or -” she cut herself off when she looked down at the boy in the pale light of the streetlamp.  Dead as a doornail.  

“Oh gosh please don’t actually be dead- ok, no, you still have a heartbeat, good good good.” She clucked, and started again down the dim street, careful as she walked on the wet stone.  She passed under another streetlamp, its amber light illuminating the green skin beneath her hat.

Usually she would stay out of the affairs of humans – frankly because they scared her a bit.  Violent things they were, and quite hateful towards herself too.  But she guessed that seeing this boy so weak and helpless – something had tugged at her.  And if even his own kind were to treat him with such vulgarity, then who was left to lend him a hand?  Well, seeing as she seemed to be the only one around who didn’t want him dead, she guessed that was her.  Oh boy she hoped she hadn’t gotten herself into anything.

She had visited this town before – quite a lot, incidentally.  The M.M.E.O (Misuse of Magic Eradicators Organisation) guards were lazy around here, which ironically meant that it was the safest town for her to enter.  Not one person was seen waltzing down the streets of Winkasta with their head held high. Everyone kept to themselves and if anyone was seen with their head higher than their shoulders they needed to get over themselves.  At least, that was the attitude.  It was a bit odd how a group, part of an organisation that was in direct service to the King of Arrodagona - who was quite vehement about the proper use of magic - could slack off like pigs in the mud.  Perhaps it was because of how far out this town was from the kingdom?  

The witches’ thoughts shattered the moment she caught sight of movement up ahead.  She pounced into the shadows, ducking to conceal herself as a blue cloaked figure hurried on past.  She watched the retreating back before stepping out into the light of the moon again.  

‘Right.  I’ve gotta get this boy t’ the authorities.  Leave ‘im on the doorstep or something…’ she mused, looking at the boy’s face and faltered.  He seemed to have plastered on a sombre expression, even in unconsciousness, as if in sleep his worries still weighed him down.  It was the face of utter loneliness and misery, a face that nobody had taken the time to care for.  There was that tugging again.  A slow breath throttled his throat.  She frowned. “…You’re inna lot of trouble aren’t you?”

She quickened her pace.  She had to get him to some help and fast.  An itchy chest with broken ribs is like smothering yourself in honey and going “I’ll be fine!” as you barrel into an ant nest.  A really big one.  

The boy kept waking in moments of discomfort, his eyes fluttering before his vision darkened again.  His brain had no idea whether to alert him to the pain or spare him from it.  She’d run, only if it meant she could be guaranteed that she wouldn’t alert the Green Skinners; a special kind of… soldier.  As it was, she crept along and peeked out around the corner.  Her eyes widened in the split second it took her to dart back.  She nestled herself in some shade from the moon and repeated a spell in her head, over and over again, her movements like a statue.  She only stopped once the Green Skinners had disappeared down the street.  

Heart pounding, she went the opposite way and power walked.

 *BANG BANG BANG*

Thatcher’s eyes flew open at the disturbance, the noise ringing in his big ears. He did not want to get out of bed, no he did not.  So what if he was the only competent doctor around?  It’s midnight!  …

Somebody had better be in trouble.  He swore if it was Ms Bahlinger again with her son…  A moment passed and he leapt up, concern replacing drowsiness as he raced downstairs and to the door, grabbing his dressing gown and pulling it on. He opened the door to two figures slumped on the step, one unconscious and the other looking at him with worried eyes.

“Help me,” she pleaded.

 The boy’s head swam as he tried to stay awake.

“Murrid what on arth-”

“Please… lot of trouble…if I stay out here long…”

He felt big soft arms encompass him, guiding him in his delirium.  It was so hard to stay awake.  He could hear their whispered conversation… that girl and…

“Nae, they’re too bright! Use a candle…”

“… woh’ happened?’

“…boys, y’know the Lake Green lot? ...saw me.  Won’t be long… tell some Skinna’s I’m about.”

He vaguely felt he was on a cushioned table.

“Wake up?”

“...I was defendin’ myself.”

“Ye were also finally teaching them a lehss’n.”

Snickering.  The… doctor…? Spoke in a thick accent, the R’s rolled harder than a stone down a hill.  There were too many accents tonight.  He could make out that much, and that he had been here too long.  Hadn’t he.  Had he?  How long had he been here?  How could he have spent the entire night here?  How was it morning?  He tried to talk and only let out a rasp.  Nothing was making sense; he could only get snippets of the situation and string them together like a dream.  He felt so strange and his chest hurt so much.

“He looks like he’s in a lotta pain.  Can you help him?  He’s got broken ribs and I think the flu or something.  An’ his feet are blue.”

“Yes ah’ll be able to help him.  O’ course I can.  Murrid can yoo grab heat salve from the… ”

“He’ll need some…”

“…terrible bruising…”

He felt at some point a gloved hand slip under his right hand and be held up, as if inspected.

“Huh…”

“That a tattoo…?”

“…get a thistle?”

“Here.”

“Thanks, thistle only take a second.”

“Oka- …was that a pun-”

He heard wild giggling and a thwack. Todd gave up trying to stay awake and went back into an exhausted sleep.

 ~          ~          ~

 “Alright, that’s th’ wrapping done.  D’you have any cough medicine?” Murid asked Thatcher.  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, running his hand through his mop of hair.  Murid was used to seeing it all slicked back neatly and the rest of him in a suit with polished shoes; seeing Thatcher all ruffled made her feel all the more like an intruder. It also kind of made her want to snap a picture; she doubted she’d ever see him so dopey and messy again.  ‘I could use it as blackmail’ she thought distantly.

“Ah’ll get it,” he said and pushed himself up from his chair.  

“I’m sorry for waking you up, but you’re the only one I could turn to,” Murid explained when he returned, shoving thoughts away of sabotage.

“Ah noo, yoo did the right thing Murid.  He was in a very bad shape.  If it waern’ for yoo, I think he would have died,” he applauded her and gave a toothy grin. He leaned over and applied the lotion to the boy’s throat.  It gave off the scent of oranges.  “So you don’nae know his name?” Thatcher asked, closing the lid.

“No, I don’t know who he is.  I was tryin’a sneak out of town but the scuffle kind of… happened in front of me… Thatcha I don’t know what to do with him.  I can’t take him with me, he’d be inna worse situation with me than here on the streets,” Murid reasoned.  Thatcher pursed his lips, hands on his hips.  He gave Murid the side eye.

“What?”

His mouth twitched.  Murid became more bewildered.

“What?!”

“Ahh c’mon!  The lad looks about yoor age.  He could be yoor new friend!”  Thatcher put his hands on his knees and squatted to Murid’s level; she tried to stifle her laughter.

“No, he couldn’t.  One, are you actually suggesting that I kidnap a homeless guy?  And two, the minute he finds out I’m a witch he’d run for the hills.”

“He’d have trouble runnin’ with those feet. And yoo’re gonna have t’ pay his medical bill.”

“…I’ll give ya five lents.”  

“Five lents could’nae pay for toothpaste.”  Murid grinned at him and he snickered.  There was a knock on the door.  

Everybody conscious jumped.  The two peeked out the side and to the front door; two silhouettes could be seen, short pointed hats on the figure’s heads.  Thatcher darted back into the medical bay and grabbed two bottles.  “Take him an’ run,” Thatcher whispered and pushed the bottles into her hands.

“But I can’t take him-!”

“If yoo don’t, they’ll get suspicious of how he goh’ here and they’ll find out who I am!  They’re Skinners, Murrid, you ken woh’ they’re like!” He looked into her eyes, fear filling his own.

“But, he’s a… I can’t…! ...OH FINE,” she spluttered.  He briefly wrapped her in a bear hug and let go, exiting the room.  Murid skipped over to the boy and grabbed an arm and leg and hoisted his whole self over her shoulders and he gave a groan in protest.

“Oh shush, you’re fine,” she seethed and tip toed out to the back of the house. She heard the front door open and a sleepy, deep voice against two other clipped ones.  Carefully, carefully, she opened the back door and closed it behind her. With the weight of the boy pressing against her neck, she fled from the garden and over the fence, back into the night. All this running around past her bedtime was starting to get exhausting.

 Out on the street again, her boots clopped on the slippery pavement and echoed. The strange animals of the night called to one another in their wild chorus, becoming louder as she neared the forest.  The trees loomed above the rooftops and into the night sky like a black creature watching in wait at the edge of the small town.  

It was something of a shock, the forest.  One minute you’d be walking through town, the next there’s a rickety fence in your way and you’re wondering why there's a whole forest staring at you. There were many dangerous creatures lurking in the bush that could snatch any passing child or adult like a spider with a fly, and all the council did was put up a ramshackle fence.  It was as if it were there to just trip up the evil creature, rather than actually stop it.

Given the area she was about to enter, Murid contemplated on flying her broom through the dense bush, but decided against it.  The use of that amount of magic would definitely draw bad attention.

Bad attention… she hoped Thatcher was alright.  

Murid repositioned the boy so he lay curled in her arms rather than over her shoulders.  Still he slept.  She squared her shoulders and started walking.

 ~          ~          ~

 ‘Yeah, I should have ridden my broom.’ Murid thought.  This wasn't the first time she had run for her life – heck, considering the technicalities, she’d already run for her life twice tonight.  She just wished it would stop happening.  She guessed she was running for the boy’s life too; after all he was the reason why an enormous monster was hot on her tail.  Her breath rattled like ground pepper in her lungs and she took a chance, glancing back.  The thing galloped on all fours, snorting and drooling, its greasy black hair illuminated by the moonlight.  It squealed and snapped jaws she couldn’t see.  She had been chased by almost every creature in Arrodagona (yes, including cute, small, herbivores) and from what she could tell… she had no idea what this thing was.

Murid shifted her focus back to the blackened path ahead of her, the moonlight just grazing the darkness, like it couldn’t be bothered lighting all the way. She scrunched her eyes shut, praying that she wouldn’t run head first into a tree, and recited the spell in her head. When she opened them her eyes lit up, glowing, brightening the way ahead of her.  At least she could see the trees and the ground now.  She also picked up a small fire burning away a few hundred metres down the track.

‘Ok, nearly there!’ she grinned desperately.    

Had she had her arms free to move, maybe she would have been able to take this beast on.  Granted, she wouldn’t try to face something this big even if she could use her magic; she’d just use it to fly away. She may have been sure of herself in that alley way, but a group of untrained boys who had no idea how to fight was a doddle compared to this thing.  

The ballistic creature inhaled then squealed, catapulting itself towards Murid.   It was her turn to squeal as she ducked down onto her heels, the creature shooting over her head.  It landed, stumbled and hit its head on a boulder.  Murid sprung back on her feet and sprinted, running past the creature before it could reassert itself.  It wasn’t long before it was behind her again, sounding for all of the world like a giant pig.  She ran and she ran and she ran and she fell.  Unable to stop herself she slid down into a ditch, disappearing from sight.  The creature leapt over the ditch and continued to run, thinking that its meal was still ahead.  

Murid stayed in the dark shallow, taking deep gulps of air on her back and gripping the boy in her arms.  Calming her breath as much as she could, she struggled to hear the fading thuds of the creature’s bounds.  It was quiet. Once she could no longer hear it she breathed out, annoyance storming her face.  

“Shiva’s tonight, what was that thing?!” she asked herself.

She counted a few more seconds to be sure everything was safe and then peeked out of hiding.  When the coast was clear, she took a few moments to figure out how to get herself, and her guest, both out of the ditch.  Maybe she should throw him.

……hm, no, they had just healed his bones, no need to hurt them again.  A dark shape caught her attention and it took her a terrified second to realise it was just a giant spider sailing down from a branch above her, not the thing from before.  Unlike everyone else on the planet who would immediately scream and panic, she relaxed.  Oh, it was very venomous; of course it was, it was Arrodagona.  She just whipped out her staff and blasted it with her magic. It sailed through the air, detaching itself from its web and hit a trunk and it scuttled away, petrified.  She caught hold of the hanging web string. “That’ll do,” she grunted, making the awkward climbing-a-rope-of-web-one-handed-up-an-incline escape.  She chucked the boy over the edge (gently) and quickly followed, waving her hand around madly to get the web off it.  Her campfire was just a few metres ahead of her.  All she had to do was walk there.  Simple as that.  

She put a foot forward.  Then another. And then another.  Aaaand, maybe one more.  She grew a little more bold and crept.  Her pointy ears picked up no sound from the surrounding forest; everything had gone... strangely quiet.  Usually the dense foliage filled itself with the strangest, most inhuman sounds made by unknown creatures.  But now it stood with a black hood and robe, and she couldn’t tell whether its back was turned to her or not.  Murid felt her hearts begin to race – she had been in this kind of situation before.

Something was watching her.

Above the pounding of blood in her ears and shaky gulps of breath, she drove on forward.  She kept her knees bent and her back hunched.  Even though the boy in her arms was light – unhealthily so – her arms were beginning to ache; they had been in the same position for too long.

She tried to listen, tried to quieten her erratic breathing, her hearts beating like drums.  She wouldn’t be this wound up if she just had her jolly staff in her hand.  She could see her camp – it was still only a few metres away.  But where had that monster gone off to?

She jumped at the boy taking a guttural breath.  She could worry about him later; right now, something was wrong. This was too easy.  Just a few simple steps to safety, and it didn't feel safe at all.  She listened to every rustle, every snapped twig, to the breeze that played with her hair, the low growl from behind that bush –

Murid dropped her escort, her arm flashing with her spear as the monster sprung towards her.  By pure chance, she had the end pointed at the thing’s chest and it ran itself into the crystal blade and white hot pain ripped down her arm.

She cried out as the sheer force of the falling monster pushed her into the ground.  She landed on her back, the staff propping up the dead beast and she rolled it off of her. Murid spun over and sat up on her knees before the pain overcame her and she scrunched up her face, biting back tears. She gripped her arm as warm, dark sea-green blood slipped between her fingers and spread through the sleeve of her coat, dripping on the ground.  

She got up and tried walking the pain off by power-walking in a circle and chanting “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”  

She walked over to the beast.  It was dead, thank The Five.  She picked out her staff from its body and looked at her arm in the light of her eyes; the cut didn’t look too bad.  It was bleeding a lot though.  With some alcohol to douse it maybe she wouldn’t contract Crick Joint or any other diseases.  Murid had experienced injuries similar this one before – she would be fine.  She looked back at the creature and her stomach began to twist.  It looked like someone had gotten the torso and arms of a human and merged it with the head and the legs of a wild boar, some kind of horror of magic and medical. The human parts were thick with dark fur, showing hints of skin here and there.  Around its bowed legs it wore crude, sand-coloured pants; across its hairy chest lay an iron chest plate and matching gauntlets on its hands.  

“Thaaaaaaaaaat’s… not normal,” Murid breathed, her skin prickling and her ears popping.  Something strange began to happen, starting from its eyes.  Like a piece of wood turning to charcoal in the heat of a fire, its skin turned black and fell into ash, leaving a bone white skeleton.  A small, blue light ascended from the remains, glowing ever so faint.  It hung there for a second and then was off, soaring into the sky like a tiny shooting star. The thought of moving didn’t occur to Murid for quite a while; she just stood frowning at the sky, her mouth hung open.

“…WHAT?! What, what, what, what-?!  Ow.”  Her face twisted in pain from her wounded arm, the agony flaring. She decided that the best thing to do for now was to get to her camp and go to bed before another wild thing appeared.  Or at least before she bled to death.  Or she left enough blood on the ground to attract more creatures.  So many options…  

She gripped her staff and used it as a walking stick.  She caught sight of the boy, his limp frame laying on the dirt and gravel.  She trudged over to him and looked down on him for a while, head spinning.  She prodded him with her staff.  

“Oi.  Get up.” She ordered.  The boy replied with more rattled breathing.  She looked at her staff, then at the stranger, then back at her staff and groaned at the sky.  Carrying him with magic would be too hard, she would need both her hands for Five’s sake. She clenched her crystal bladed staff and twisted her wrist.  The effects were immediate; her staff turned into smoke and shrunk into her palm and when she opened it, a small marble encased in wood was left, the light fading. Pocketing the milky blue marble, she sighed down at the boy.  

The witch clomped in a tired stupor over to her camp, her arm throbbing like crazy from the weight in her arms.  She passed through the invisible barrier encompassing her camp, separating it from the rest of the forest.  As soon as she was clear, she dropped down on her knees and lost her grip, her charge spilling on the ground.  She yawned and collapsed on the ground next to him, breathing heavily.  

Safe at last.

[magicandmettle]

Rough thumbnails of my two main character's first meeting. Jus tryna get the right angle Last two were done on receipt papers at work