Claire startled awake. She lay blinking rapidly, allowing her mind to clear and listened intently to the sounds of the early morning. The dawning light was barely beginning to creep into her small room with small dust flakes sparkling in its rays. She did a quick survey to confirm she was alone then wondered what had woke her. Was it the horrific nightmare she’d been having or was it something else?
A flurry of flapping wings and a few squawks from outside filtered in through her open window and in a flash she tore from her bed, grateful for the chickens that roamed free in the yard.
Claire quickly slipped to the bedroom door and peered into the kitchen. The room was undisturbed and the only movement was that of the herbs swaying in the light breeze from the window. A stack of mismatched hand carved dishes still sat on the towel where Claire had left them to dry the night before. The apron she had worn to protect her shirt and pants from the dinner mess still laid across one of the chairs at the table. The fireplace held a heap of ash and cooling embers from last night’s fire. Quietly she moved through the kitchen to the archway leading to the living room.
The two long benches and single rocking chair appeared the same as they had the night before-minus the occupants. She looked to the small room adjoining the living room and noticed nothing amiss about the leather cloth covering the doorway to the small room Marcel and Shaylee shared. She imagined both women had left their cots earlier to gather herbs and mushrooms in the forest. On the other side of the room she looked suspiciously at the new addition to the small cabin.
When they had moved into the home her brothers had gone to work building an additional room so they wouldn’t have to sleep under the stars. It was almost the size of the living room and easily had enough space for the two large men to share. Though the tools were not as convenient as those on Tyrell, her brothers woodworking skills came in useful in building on to their small abode. Because of the addition, the once tiny cabin was now big enough to compare to the first level of their home in Tyrell.
As she stared at the leather cloth hiding her brothers’ room from her view, she wondered if she dared take the chance to peek. The creak of the front door decided for her and she dashed back to her room as silently as her bare feet could carry her.
Once in her room she sent a longing glance at her trousers, now wishing she had opted to dress instead of searching the house. With regret she turned instead to the side table where her blade waited. Another sound from the other room spurred her into action.
She didn’t hesitate to scoop up the sword and dive through the small window, dropping quietly to the ground. She cringed when a sharp rock dug, painfully, into her foot, but she forced herself to ignore it as she darted into the brush.
Twigs raked across the bare flesh of her legs as she picked her way to the small hollow she had dug for a makeshift hideout. The hole allowed her to hunker deep into the undergrowth, yet maintain visual on her home so she could make a quick escape if her brothers came looking for her. She would use it now to spy on whomever had chosen to trespass. She sat motionless and watched the small group of men making their way around the cabin and outbuildings.
She smiled knowing they would find no one there and almost laughed when one giant beast of a man stormed out of the cabin, a look of bewilderment on his face. Orders were given and the men began fanning out to search the nearby forest. One started making his way toward the brush, a sword clasped in his hands. She took a deep calming breath.
Claire had been practicing from sunup to sundown for the past six months. Sleep-eat-train-eat-train-eat-train-sleep. Every day the same routine until the routines became so natural she could do them in with her eyes closed. She plotted and practiced nearly two dozen scenarios of defense and escape to prepare for any possibilities so she would never be taken by surprise again.
It had been nearly seven months since Leishmann’s army had attacked her home and tore her from the only life--the only world--she had ever known. After weeks of feeling her life was out of control, she vowed she’d never again be taken off guard by Leishmann or his men. She swore he would never have the upper hand on her. It was those thoughts that made her even more determined to defend her new home.
As the first man drew closer he paused before the bush to examine a patch of grass her bare feet had crushed. When he turned in the opposite direction Claire slithered out of her hole and moved in behind him, her movements making no more than a low hum in the air.
She remained hunched and unseen. The fool did not look over his shoulder and proceeded forward. After a few steps, he paused. Did he sense her? He c****d his head in both directions, but still did not turn. Claire slept every night with a dagger belted to her thigh; she drew it and launched.
Her hand covered his mouth even as her blade touched the smooth fibers of his skin. He slowly sank to the ground as she pulled her blade away from his throat. One down. Satisfied, she hunkered back in the brush and watched for the next opportunity.
Four men fanned out in different directions, none paying attention to the other as they searched. Three walked toward the forest while one stood guard beside the cottage. His back was to her as he scanned the hillside. She chuckled. In her limited experience she had learned the one who commanded seldom searched, but she had no doubt that the one standing at the house was no more than a distraction. That man was not the leader and he would be the next to go.
She sheathed her dagger and retrieved her sword from its hiding spot then darted toward the opposite end of the cabin. She reached the side of her home and slid into the corner made by the new addition. The fresh smell of the new wood complimented the old and she couldn’t help but take a deep, appreciative breath. After a moment she moved around the extension so she could better view her opponent.
He was still searching with brutish concentration at the many possible hiding spots spread across the hillside; ready to signal his comrades. She saw in him a desperation to find any sign of her. Who was she to deny him what he so franticly searched for?
She quickly selected a few stones from the ground and expertly flicked them into a thick patch of thistleweed. Though the thick bush was less than ideal for someone to hide behind, the man grunted and shuffled towards it with his sword drawn.
As he moved closer she tightened her grip on her sword; ready to strike the moment he was in view. He paused. She held her breath. After a brief moment he cautiously rounded the corner. i***t. She sprang forward, thrusting her blade and swiping the man’s weapon from his hand. His look of surprise quickly deflated into one of defeat. Claire pushed her sword against his chest and watched with joy as he sank to the ground. Then there were three.
She moved down the side of the house, staying low so she could watch the remaining targets. The two smaller men would need to go first. She would save the largest for last. She snuck back into the brush and slipped through the growth, making her way to the closest man. A branch caught her leg and she felt the sting as it cut into her skin. Mentally she cursed herself for sleeping only in an oversized shirt. Wiping the blood with her hand she made a mental note to ask Marcel to fashion her some sleeping pants.
Upon reaching the tree line she tracked the tediously careful sounds of movement through the forest. She gauged his direction and fitted into a position to intercept him. Hidden in the crevice between two boulders she used her palm to stem the light trickle of blood as she waited. A twig snapped.
She shifted her position listening to the man inch his way through the forest, closing the space between them. She slid around a tree at the same time the man passed in front of it. She grinned at his lean back as he continued to cautiously move through the trees, eyes scanning the thick shadows in the undergrowth.
Claire crept forward and slowly moved in on him, closing the distance and then….snap! She tensed the moment the twig cracked under her foot, then lunged before he could react. He turned, but not fast enough to avoid the kiss of her sword against his side. He glared down at her then sank in defeat.
“That was too close,” she scolded herself, scanning the forest for his comrades. She would need to be more careful, especially against the big one.
Aksara