“No one’s perfect.” She pats my knee.
“So true.” I brood.
The smoke and mead have taken the edge off my anxiousness and my anger, leaving me languid and ready to consider my situation with a buffer between me and the mental/emotional weight I carry.
Maybe going home with Rath won’t be that bad. Maybe?—
A branch snaps, the kind of rustling that heralds more than one person approaching.
“We should head back,” Maezii says with a sigh. “The barrel scrapers must have followed the smoke.”
I push to my feet, pulling her with me, glancing in the direction her head is turned. The cloaked trio from the alley weaves towards us at a clip a tad too fast to be unhurried.
“Let’s go back.”
It’s been more than ten minutes. The boys will have a hard time following us even with the fragrant smoke because of the density of scents in the fairgrounds—most of them unpleasant.
There's a certain point when if someone approaching doesn’t slow, stop, or use a myriad of body language cues to indicate they mean no harm, you know they mean the opposite.
I shove the smokes inside my vest and whip out my blade the second she throws the charm in her hand. It hits the first male because he wasn’texpecting resistance, and explodes into flame against his chest.
We turn and run.
“Double back,” I snap. Letting them chase us deeper into the forest will make the situation worse, but we can lose them first then retrace our steps.
Weight barrels into my back, taking me to the ground. I jerk my head back, slamming against bone. He swears viciously, grabbing my wrist and pressing until my fingers go numb. He grabs my head and slams my forehead into the ground, once, twice. Pain explodes.
His hand is green-skinned but from his weight and strength I would have known he was an Orc. Why?
Maezii shrieks curses, high-pitched and furious. An earsplitting noise called asirengoes off in the air; another of her charms.
The Orc’s hands are around my throat.
“Hurry up,” another male rasps. “No, pick her up. We’ll finish it somewhere else. They have males with them.”
“What about the Human?”
“We can sell her.”
“Search her for more charms.” A third voice, with a greasy laugh.
Maezii makes a sound I never wanted to hear again from her throat. But I’m dying. Rath tried to train me how to get a male off me from this position, but his advice had mostly consisted of, “Don’t get in that position, cause you’ll be fucked. And if it happens, fight like hell.”
There’s a whoosh and a crashing through the trees, and screaming that isn’t Maezii’s.
I fight like hell, but I can’t throw his weight off me. His hands tighten around my throat, his knee pressing so hard into my spine I think it might break.
As everything dims, there’s a roar, like blood thundering in my ears seeking air, and my vision goes black.
“Kyona!”
A mouth on mine, forcing my lips open. Hands on my chest, pushing. My lungs burst, chest expanding as my body instinctively sucks in great gulps of oxygen. Familiar arms gather up my limp body and I open my eyes, lashing out. My hands hit his face before my mind catches up, but he doesn't flinch.
Words, a string of words. “. . .not again, Ky’a. I’m weak, I can’t let you go a second time. Wake up, baby, wake up. Don’t make me slit my throat and follow you into death.”
I pry my eyelids open.
“Baby, say something,” Rath says, desperation and rage in his guttural voice. “Kyona, Kyona. Come on, baby.”
