This the next part of the fantasy type thing. It's unedited and pretty raw but you can follow it if you liked the first part. So far I've got no title so if you think of something drop a comment.
Dawn
Her mother lay the wet cloth on Marra’s head. She pincered
matted hair between her fingers and moved it behind Marra’s ear. Beads of water
eased down the girl’s forehead. The Sin sat on Marra’s chest. It moved up and
down in the rhythm of her drawn breathing. It placed it’s hand on the cloth. On
Marra’s mother’s. The small beads of water continued to roll. It was almost
impossible to make them out from Marra’s tears.
Sunlight
cut through the leaves. The forest became friendlier than the night before.
Marra was awake before she opened her eyes.
The same dream again.
She
could smell the dogs. How bad was it this time? The Sin had never forced her to
kill another human but animals...they were a different story. It reminded her
of ghost stories as a child. Holding her bed clothes over her face. Afraid to
open her eyes. Marra remembered how much darkness had scared her in those years.
She
eventually opened her eyes, just as she had done as a child. Darkness didn’t scare
her anymore. There were never any ghosts. The shih tzu’s jaw lay half unhinged,
torn down it’s right side as far as the ear. Light was so much worse. The Sin’s
red veins had sunk once more. The shade of Marra’s forearm had lightened. For
now it would be quiet. Sated. Soon it would be back. Horrible, ferocious.
Slowly the shade would darken. The thoughts would flood her mind. Begging her
to let go. Maybe this the time she
finally would.
She
remembered the last thing her mother said to her.
“Hey.”
Wren said.
“Get
rid of these chains.”
“What’s
wrong with your arm?”
Marra
looked at the boy. He must have been fourteen. Maybe older. Marra couldn’t
tell. His dirty brown hair curled at the edges. Like small waves. His clothes
were ragged and torn but the boots were holding together. He shivered in the
morning chill.
“The
chains.”
Wren
reached out putting his fingers on Marra’s leg. She felt the heat of his hand.
It grew hotter and hotter.
“I can’t
make fire. But I can make this hurt. Make it burn.”
Marra
scowled at him.
Little prick.
“I’ve been marked.”
“Neph...”
“You
can say the full word.”
Wren tried
to feel like he was in control again. He didn’t even notice moving his hand
from her leg.
“Are
they real?”
“The
one that clawed me was.”
“How
big?”
“Big as
people say.”
The
only thing more dangerous than the Madra were the Nephalim. The product of
carnal union between angels and men. Like everything else the ancient’s spouted
Wren had assumed it was all false. Ravens that were dragon like in their size.
Maybe this girl was crazy? But he had seen her arm the night before. That red glow...
“Do you
have the thirst? I mean, do you need to...”
“I’ve
been marked. You know how it goes.”
“I
thought it was all lies.”
“There
are some people who don’t believe there are any elementals left.”
Wren
stood up and walked behind the tree Marra was bound against. He untied her
chains.
“They’re
right.”
Marra
stood up and gathered the chains. Wren was intimidated by her height. Raven
black hair hung in front of her face. A large green hood covered the rest of
her hair. She picked up her bow and began pulling arrow heads from the dead
dogs. An Alsatian was still breathing, the arrow had lodged in its throat.
Marra stopped. She drew a blade from its sheath. A small dagger. She kneeled
beside the animal and placed her hand on its ribs. The dog’s pupil eyes found
Marra. She looked back and nodded solemnly. The dog’s neck broke easily. Marra
started with the ears.
“You
got a knife?”
Wren stared
at Marra as she skinned the animal. She threw fur into the long grass. Blood
stained her fingertips. Wren felt the tingle in the sides of his mouth. Inside
felt dry and wet at the same time. His stomach tensed. He kneeled, the vomit
flowed freely. Marra heard the wretches before she looked up. She had given way
to her stomach several times when she first learned to skin food. She walked
past Wren, he wiped the tears and spit from his face.
“When
was the last time you ate?”
Wren
coughed, trying to clear his throat. The words refused to free themselves from
his mouth. He continued coughing.
“It’s
all bile. Must have been a couple of days right?”
Wren
nodded.
Wren
coughed.
“Dogs...they’re
okay when you get used to them.”
Wren
nodded.
Wren
coughed.
Dry
wood and stones were easy to find. Lighting a fire during daylight was easy. A
fire at night could be the difference between life and death. The temperature
could fall as far as to necessitate heat. But where heat was necessary it could
easily draw attention. Die from the cold, die from a scavenger. The choice was
up to the wanderer. Sometimes lighting a fire close to a fort or town could
yield a Samaritan. Sometimes it could yield a well placed arrow.
Wren stacked
the twigs on top of the branches. It was harder to notice Wren’s hands glow in
the daylight. He flicked his fingers,
sparks landed on the twigs. String lines of smoke rose but the fire wouldn’t
take. Marra gave him several attempts before she took two arrows from her
quiver. She knelt beside the boy began clipping the heads together. The flames
rose.
“You
ever eat dog before?”
“No.”
“Thousands
of years ago half the world thought it was a delicacy. The other half thought
it was barbaric.”
“I
guess we’re the other half.”
Marra
rooted through her bag and took out a heavy scarf. She began wrapping it around
her neck. Wren put out his hands.
“Can I
see?”
He
rolled the cloth in his hands. Looping it, touching every fibre he could. He
handed it back to Marra after a few moments. The heat kissed her neck as she
wrapped the scarf around. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt heat
like this. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She opened her eyes. The
dog looked back. The raw flesh of the skinned dog.
