“Stop that!”
“I like to touch.”
“Don’t touch me,” she growls.
“If you feel nice, I will touch you,” I respond, feeling the familiar thump in the back of my head which comes from having committed violence and also not having fed for a long time.
“Don’t you dare.” The words are a mere rasp on the air. She glares at me as if she’s hoping the ground will open up and I’ll drop into the underworld.
I’ve seen the underworld, and I already know I’ll end up there one day.
“Touching by permission only,” she says. “And you can start by untying me.”
“I cannot do that. Not until we get to my lair,” I respond.
“And how long will that take?”
I pick up the bag again. “Until the full moon,” I say, pulling it over her head once again.
And with that, I lift my weapons bag onto one shoulder and my female onto the other.
It is a long journey, but if I have her scent locked into my antennae, then it will pass very quickly.
KAITLYN
The bag is rather like some Swiss cheese, filled with holes big and small. I’m beginning to wonder about myworst nightmare. Although, if he was responsible for what happened to the Redcaps, he’s clearly capable of extreme violence.
But he hasn’t hurt me, and this bag over the head idea is basically pointless.
I give my head a good shake again in the hope it will fall off, but because I’m over his shoulder, it’s caught up between me and him, so it’s not going anywhere. All I can do is hold onto him, my hands pressing on his soft velvety wings. It is extremely uncomfortable as I watch the path beneath us as he continues at an impressive pace.
We left Moranick behind us hours ago, and we haven’t met a soul so far. Whatever is going to happen to me, I’m far from any help.
Whatever is going to happen to me…
Presumably death, but given I’ve not hurt anyone or, in fact, done anything other than exist in the Yeavering, it’s a complete mystery as to why anyone would want to assassinate me.
Or send the universe’s weirdest assassin to do it.
I can’t quite get the image of the Bluecap leaning towards me with his clawed finger outstretched out of my head.
What did he think he was doing?
It’s no use. The joggling and bouncing are too much for my stomach and I kick my legs as wildly as I can.
“Please stop! I think I’m going to throw up,” I bellow in the hope he will take some notice.
For a while, we continue, and then I’m hoisted in the air and placed on my feet.
My legs immediately buckle, and I end up on the ground in a heap. I see him bending over me, and the bag is pulled off.
“You are unwell?” he says, narrowing those blood red eyes.
He sits with a thump next to me, motes of dust rising up around him.
“I will join you. My head is filled with…” He thumps the side of his temple as if trying to dislodge his brain, and yet more pearly white dust fills the air. “I don’t know what’s in there,” he grumbles. “Not good.”
This seems like the understatement of the century.
