Black Moon Draw(17)
I can hear fighting somewhere ahead and my step slows. “Are you taking me to battle?”
“I am taking you to the Shadow Knight. He will know best where you can make peace.”
I roll my eyes and continue to follow, thinking hard about whether it’s better to run now or wait to see how this plays out. Are there more hints ahead that I might need?
I hate to admit it, but I kinda want to see the Shadow Knight’s thighs again. Where else am I gonna meet someone like him again? Or a glimpse of his biceps. I’m not sure which is more appealing. Maybe his chest. If he hadn’t had his legs tucked when he somersaulted over my head, I might’ve seen something more interesting than his perfect ass.
Not that it wasn’t nice, but if he’s really wearing nothing under that kilt, I would’ve liked -
“I’ll hold them off, m’lady! Run!”
Jarred out of the daydream, I stop in my tracks to see the scrawny teen brandishing a sword as a sweaty, dirty, much larger warrior with a green circle on his tunic runs towards us.
“Why don’t we both run?” I ask, sizing up the attacker.
The boy hesitates then dashes back to me and takes my hand, darting from the trail and into the forest. We’re in the damned annoying woods only a few steps before we break out of the forest into a field. I trip over something, but don’t have time to look down. The kid is fast and pulling me pretty hard for someone his size.
He’s taking me towards the sword fights, which are at once dangerous and awkward. The men don’t move quickly with the massive weapons and I wonder why this is an effective way of battle at all. It seems like it would take forever for someone to win.
The kid winds his way through the battles, yanking at me when I get too fascinated about this archaic way of warfare and start to slow.
“Where are we –” Something warm sprays me and I stop, horrified. It tastes like blood. A glance at my clothing is enough to tell me it is blood. “Omigod!”
Whose blood? Twisting, I see one of the men of Black Moon Draw working on prying a sword from the head of his enemy.
I’ve been to one funeral in my life and have never seen anyone die outside of television. Staring at the blood and brain matter splattered everywhere, I get tunnel vision, and my ears start roaring. The world grows surreal, the blue sky swirling and colliding with the trees, the sense of floating descending over me.
I want to throw up and pass out at the same time.
“Come!” The kid pulls me hard enough that I almost lose my footing. He catches me and pushes me back onto my feet, and I shake my head.
This isn’t real. That man isn’t dead. It’s a story. A dream. A movie. If I pretend these people are like those in a video game, I won’t get sick or run off screaming.
Stumbling forward, I see another Green Dawn Cave man fall under a sword and look away quickly. Bile rises in my throat.
This isn’t real.
I chant the words with desperation I haven’t felt since Jason broke the news to me that he found someone else. Hot tears burn my eyes as that painful memory resurfaces.
I’m in the middle of the field and claustrophobic, surrounded by death and blood and a nightmare.
Wrenching away from the kid, I race towards the forest, not caring where I’m going or who might chop me down before I get there. I don’t watch scary movies, let alone can stand gore of any kind. Any thought of sticking it out to find the Hero dissipates.
“I got her!” The shout is accompanied by someone smashing into my side and driving me to the ground.
The air is knocked out of me and I lay, mouth gaping open, struggling to breathe. The man with a green circle has his hands raised in triumph and he’s signaling to someone else.
As much as I despise him, his blow knocked me out of panic mode and I roll onto my stomach and start to cough as air reaches my lungs. My ribs ache from his tackle and I focus on the strand of vibrant grass before my eyes. I pluck it up, mesmerized by the moist, ribbony texture.
It’s real, and so is everything around me. If I don’t get my shit together, I’m going to end up in a box before I can make it home.
“I survived being bullied in high school and college, before I dropped out. I can survive this.” With a deep breath, I push away from the earth and climb to my feet.
The man who tagged me stands nearby. The moment I stand, he whips out a club big enough to smash my skull in, and raises it to slam into me.
I stumble away and drop to my knees, praying my Ninja Turtle shield won’t crack. Heat flares at my core, beneath the medallion touching my chest.
His blow lands, but I barely feel it. I’m more surprised by the arc of purple sparks that fly off the shield at impact and light up a small dome around me. His club glances off, and the pale purple-pink shield around me fizzles and disappears.
I may be new here, but I’m no fool. I’m not about to wait for him to find a spot not protected by the magic shield. I dart off at a sprint, this time aware of where I’m headed.
Puffing hard, I’m breathless before I reach the tree line, my thighs burning like crazy. I weave through the fighting warriors to the first tree I spot with branches low enough for me to reach.
Just like when I ran from the bullies in school. I was that nerdy kid who had glasses when she was six, braces all through high school, and sat in front of the class because I actually enjoyed school. My world revolved around my books and I made up excuses to skip gym class because I have no athletic bone in my body. Being humiliated as the person no one wanted on their team left a mark, one that got worse when my parents divorced.