Brainstorming for a more complex story plan. You may see more of these two characters. |
I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to fight here. Lose to him. Lose my pride. Lose the last bits of dignity that remained. X X X My entire body feels like lead, I’m trembling like a frightened kitten. I seem helpless, hopeless, and all but destroyed. I could collapse right here, and it would do nothing but speed up the arrival of the inevitable. Any sensible person would stop fighting and surrender. But I would never admit it. I would never be able to bring myself to submit. Not to him, not to anyone. When he wins, he’ll take me back to that God-forsaken town in shackles to have me burned at the stake. Hailed as a hero. I don’t want to die, though, that’s why I keep fighting him. Now I’m cornered, blood spilling out of countless wounds and a sword weighing me down like a mountain pulling at my wrists. I braced myself for a final, painful slam to the forest floor, the cold point of a sword pressed against my neck as a warning not to get up. “What’s the matter, Miss Tionne?” I can hear the smirk in his voice, but also a twinge of something else. Disappointment? I don’t answer him, don’t look at him, the only sound to be heard my own ragged breathing--a barely-standing wisp of a soldier at his complete mercy. “I… I expected more from a soldier of your caliber, but I suppose you can only go so far as a woman.” Disappointment resounds clear in his voice now, striking me harder and deeper than any blade ever would be able to. A fire bloomed in the pit of my stomach, something familiar I felt in the heat of battle. I heard his footsteps along the ground, crunching on the still-frosted leaves that had frozen during the night--a reminder to me that it was early, yet. One step closer… I taunt him inside my head, feeling the inferno’s rage doubling with every step he took. The exhaustion vanished from my body, replaced by a pure rush of adrenaline and fighting instinct took over and reversed our roles. He was staring up at me from the cold, hard ground with a grimace of pain spread across his face. The point of my sword pressed against his neck, and a small stream of blood seeped from the cut it made. His sword had been disarmed, thrown ten feet and lodged deep in the trunk of an old birch. My foot pressed down against his chest, a sick grin on my face spattered with blood from both my blood and his own from the gash that had sealed his fate. Fiery locks of hair matted with blood, making them look even redder than they already were against his skin. Even the freckles across his nose seemed pale in the early morning light. He won’t struggle, neither of us move for a while. We each waited for the other to make some kind of comment or find the strength for a killing blow. By now, the manic smile had vanished and we both stared at each other. I realized that I wanted him to stop me, to put up some barrier between himself and my sword. I began to realize that, though some of us are bred for it, no human was meant to kill. His eyes reflected mine, every thought and emotion mirrored in complete honesty. He wanted me to stop myself, put up a barrier of safety between the two of us. We didn’t want to die, we didn’t want to kill. I glance off into the woods, away from the town where I was supposed to die—and he was supposed to die, when he failed to retrieve me. The way suddenly looked open, welcoming, I’d even go so far to call it tantalizing. The way to freedom? I thought so. I step off his chest, dropping my sword and offering my hand. He hesitates for a moment, but takes it to pull himself up. We are armed with hunting knives still, for food and survival, but the way is both harsh and promising. I walk out of the clearing, quickly followed by my new friend. Our weapons abandoned behind us and a future like no other opened up in our path. “A human being is a soldier, fighting for their deepest hopes and for the rest of us as well.” ~Anonymous |