Monday, 19 November 2012

More fantasy stuff...

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.


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.”
                “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?”
                “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.

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