Of the Wolves

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CHAPTER I



Sweat dripped onto ground sending up a small puff of dirt. The swordsman wiped the stinging sweat that ran like rivers into his eyes and regarded his opponent carefully. Not at all what he expected, and to be frank, he was quite embarrassed. He had heard that this boy was stronger than he looked, but the swordsman had not expected this. His arms were quivering, exhausted from the boy's fast and hard attack pattern. The boy's breath was also labored but nothing like the heaving of his own chest. The boy's head was cocked  to the side, listening intently to the swordsman's heavy breath and thumping heart. Who knew a little blind boy could fight so well?

  The swordsman glanced over at the crowd that had gathered around the sparring ring. They were jeering at him, making remarks because he was losing to this damned kid. Why had he even entered this tournament?

  A blur smeared across the swordsman's vision and he flinched, bringing his sword up just in time for it to protect his face from brutal swipe. The kid attacked again, swinging his sword from the other side, and the swordsman quickly shifted his weight to compensate, but it was a risk that left him off balance and that was the opportunity that the young blind nymph needed. The swordsman felt a the air escape his lungs as the dull blade rang against his ribs and his knees hit the packed dirt, the dust swirling around his defeated form. Cold steel rested against the back of his neck, and the cheering crowd told him he had lost the match. He looked up to see the blind boy offering him a hand up, his delicate features pulling back into a smile. Who was this young boy? There was no way that those porcelain slender arms and legs held such power. He smacked the boy's hand away and struggled to his feet. Never in his life had he been more humiliated. He left the ring red faced.



  The crowd cheered, and Rory felt a multitude of hands clap her on the back. She grinned wide and wiped the sweat from under her nose. She could feel the sweat soaking through the blindfold that covered her eyes. A bag weighed heavy in her hand.

  "There you are, Rory, another fine victory! You should stick around and enjoy the fame." Said a cheerful voice accompanied by another clap on the back. Her winnings.

  "Thank you, Mr. Peterson. I have to get going now, though." Rory replied.

  "You never do stick around, m'boy. How are you ever going to get a lass if you don't flex those muscles a little?"He joked as he ruffled Rory's short silvery hair. She ducked down and smiled politely.

  "Ehh, I don't think I'm man enough for the ladies." She said back and headed out of the ring before Mr. Peterson could get another word in edgewise.

  The streets of the city were narrow and winding, but the sunlight shone bounced off the hot clay of the bricks and warmed Rory's face. She used the dull sparring blade as a walking stick as she avoided the regular city debris that was littered across this part of town. At last the laughter and yelling of children was no longer a distant sound, but right around the corner. Yelling and the thumping of little feet erupted as Rory came around the corner. A million little voices started talking at her as little hands grabbed onto the bottom of her shirt, demanding attention.

  "Rory! Rory! Did you win?!" Chris asked.

  "Yup."

  "Rory, hey Maddy at a snail today! Isn't that gross?!" Rachel exclaimed.

  "Eww, Maddy!"

  "Rory, Sister says that if we all do well on tomorrow's quiz we can all go to the zoo, isn't that great?" Katie chirped in.

  "That sounds wonderful, I'd like to come!"

  "Why would you come, you can't even see the animals." Mark asked. Rory stopped short, and a silence fell over the children. Rory placed her calloused hand atop Mark's head. Children were painfully honest. She continued to walk and the chatter started up again. Rory could sense her long before the children started calling her name and running at her. Sister Maria. She smelled like sunflowers, a smell that Rory had found on no one else. Sister Maria smiled delicately at Rory, and Rory gave a lopsided smile in return.

  "Why don't we head up into my office, Rory." Maria said, gently laying a hand on Rory's head. She nodded and quietly followed the sister up, much to the dismay of the children.

  The soft click of the lock as Maria closed the door was the cue that Rory had been waiting for. She tore the soiled bandana from over her eyes, and blinked at the sunlight filtering through the window. Maria tossed a quizzical look in her direction, and Rory smiled softly before tossing her bag of winnings onto the cheap wooden desk. Maria sat down behind the desk, her soft chin resting on her long weary fingers. Weary from years of praying and taking care of the lost children of the city, including Rory herself. Sister Maria regarded Rory heavily from behind some wire-rimmed glasses. Rory gave a little smile, hoping to defuse the rant that she felt coming on, but it disappeared quickly under the scrutiny of Sister Maria.

  "Rory... I don't want your money." The Sister started. Rory rolled her eyes.

  "Sister, I'm not asking you to take it." Rory pushed it closer to Maria's elbows. She never even looked down at it.

  "Rory, if you kept all your winnings you could have a good life. You could stop this charade and become the woman you're supposed to. You could get married, have children, and die a happy old woman." Maria said, pushing the coins back at Rory. Rory frowned.

  "Maria, you know that wouldn't happen no matter what. Look at me. I don't want to settle down. Besides, who would want me?" She gestured at her exotic features. Her porcelain skin, silver hair, and bright yellow eyes. She met Maria's deep brown eyes with a piercing stare, and Maria finally looked away, her cheeks reddening. "Maria..." Rory said softly, "You raised me after my mom left me. You kept my secret. You love this city too much." Rory sighed. "And I love you, so here's my contribution." She said gesturing at the  bag.

  Maria took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "Maria, listen, I know you tried to help me find a husband and everything when I hit eighteen and I know it didn't work. So please just let me live the way I want to." Rory said, cocking her head and regarding Maria as usually mellow cheeks reddened even further.

  "You found out about that?"

  "Well..." Rory hugged her knees and rocked back and forth a little in the chair. "I know you did it for all the other girls, and most found good suitors. I don't approve of the method, so it's good that you couldn't find me one." Maria sighed heavily again.

  "I'm sorry. I suppose your lifestyle suits you." She reached across for Rory's hand. "But don't give so much that you don't have enough for yourself." Rory laughed and rubbed her stomach.

  "As you can see, I'm getting plenty to eat!" She said. She picked up her sword, and swung it sharply through the air. "All I need to do is keep winning these tournaments, and you'll be able to hire more help and buy the kids better clothes and new beds and maybe even I can earn enough to dress them all up for the Midsummer festival. Rachel would love that and—"

  "Rory, calm down!" Maria laughed. She stood up, strode across the room and gave Rory and smothering hug. "One step at a time. And, really, don't forget to take care of yourself." Maria cupped Rory's face in her hands kissed her forehead. "I want to see my little Rory in beautiful dress with her silver hair flowing. You do not look how you think you look, Rory..."

  Rory wriggled out of her grasp.

  "Maria, you shouldn't live in such a fantasy world!" She smiled widely. "I'll catch you later, Sister." And with that, she covered her vibrant wolfish eyes with the dirty brown bandana, that had blinded her from the outside world since she was a child and ran back out into the quickly cooling night.

  The city is a very different place at night. The rats come out to play in more than a couple senses. Rory had never worried too much. She bluntly carried around a weapon, feeling her way with it and she had quickly built up a reputation from the tournaments. Rory shifted uncomfortable, her binding itched her. A nice hot bath and soft bed was what she needed tonight. And lots of food! Her stomach rumbled in response to her thoughts. She still had almost a whole loaf of bread left, and not to mention all those apples she bought the other day, and there would be tea and...

  Rory's head jerked sharply to the right as she tried to listen harder. Something didn't seem right. She couldn't put her finger on it, maybe it was a sound, or smell... she opened her available senses as far as she could, but nothing. Just a feeling?

  Clang! With a little luck and quick reflexes Rory just managed fall to one knee and block a sweeping attack. Shit. She quickly rolled to the side, feeling the breeze of a staff as it cut down right where her face would have been. A sword and a staff? Either this was one skilled person, or she was fighting two people. If only she could take off this damned blindfold. It was different in the ring when she knew what she was going up against. Rory was on her feet again, defending a heavy blow, that left her arm shaking. "Jump!" her body told her as the wooden staff tried to sweep her feet out from under her. Rory tried to get a fix on their heartbeats, but it was hard to hear over the adrenaline surge that fueled her own thumping heart.

  Ah! A sudden acute pain in her cheek sent a wave of shock through Rory's body. She could smell the salty blood trailing freely down her neck. One: sword. Two: Bow Staff Three: Throwing darts? Two in front of her, one behind. Well Rory wasn't stupid. Well, she had never been particularly strong at math, but she surely wasn't a stupid fighter. Rory waited for the opportunity, and sure as shit, the swordsman swung, what must have been a broadsword, looking to cleave her head in too. Rory dove forward past the two fighters, rolling to safety , and used the momentum to push herself into a sprint before they could know what was happening.

  Shink. Well, that's what she thought at least, but apparently the one throwing daggers wasn't proturbed in the least. Rory pushed her body harder. Her blindfold slowly slipping from her eyes. How she wished to take it off and throw it away! Rory knew this city like the back of her hand, though. It had been her sightless playground since the age of twelve, there was no way these chumps were beating her. All she needed was to get somewhere public. The marketplace, the theatre, the red district, Rory wasn't picky. She weaved an intricate path down the streets, into the alley ways, and over fences, that would dizzy even the greatest navigator. Rory skidded down a narrow alley way, deftly dodging the debris and drunks that had been abandoned there.  She leaned against the cold clay wall and tried to listen for her pursuers. She caught the slowed methodical heartbeat of the drunk man not too far from her, passed out in his own mess. She caught the fast paced beat of the stray cats that hunted along the streets, and the even faster pitter-patter of the hunted rats. But nothing else. Rory tightened her sopping blindfold and chuckled to herself. She walked slowly on her unsteady legs, fully pleased with herself. Now with that tea she would have some milk...

  A blade so sharp, that she felt no pain, just the stickiness of blood trickling down her neck. And a big calloused hand, squeezing her wrist, threatening to snap the bones under the hard grip.

  "Move, and I'll kill you." A deep voice breathed in her ear. "Drop your... sword." the last word said with distaste. The grip intensified, and Rory gasped unintentionally. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. This was different than the ring. This weapon was different than anything that would ever get used in a tournament. Rory's mind was blank except for the screaming protest of her stubbornness and pride.

  "N-no." She whispered, tightening her grip on the handle. She could feel the warm breath puff on her ear as the man behind her chuckled. She couldn't take the indignity. "Why don't you fight like a man. Sneaking up on a little blind boy, fighting three on one." She started out quietly, but the anger in her voice brought it to almost shouting level. The hand that held her wrist quickly let go and roughly covered her mouth.

  "That's not how this game is played, sweetheart." the deep voice tickled her hair, and Rory wanted to flail in protest, but steady stream of blood flowing down into her binding was a friendly reminder not to move. Rory heard the quick beat of a heart before she heard the quick steps of heavy boots approaching quickly.

  "Ah, you got her." A friendly sounding voice echoed down the alley way. The two new bodies, Mr. Bow Staff and Mr. Sword, most likely, approached quickly.

  "She gave us quite a run for our money eh, Chris?" The friendly voice asked cheerfully.

  "Mhmm..." Agrunt came as a reply. Ms. Bow staff, Rory corrected herself. "You got her okay there, Leo?" she asked heavily. Rory's captor  turned his head back slightly and opened his mouth to reply. As far as she could tell, this was her only chance, his moment of distraction. Rory tore the knife from her throat, and threw her sword arm backwards, jamming the hilt into her captors gut. Rory was around and swinging before his knees had hit the ground. The flat side of her blade connected with his rib, throwing him to the side. Running hadn't worked, so Rory raised her sword and charged, uttering a vicious war cry. Her sword was met by the broadsword. She moved quickly, making sure that she was always on the attack. This alley was actually a blessing in disguise she thought to herself. It was far too narrow for them both to fight her. As Rory pushed Mr. Swordsman backwards, he pushed back Ms. Bow staff.

  Rory dodged a vertical and replied with a charging knee. She heard the familiar swoosh of air as it was forced from his lungs. He bent over in shock and pain, and this was  Rory chance.

  "Say goodbye to your head!" She cried, raising her sword high. Then... a

mosquito maybe? Rory reached to her neck, and felt it. Not a mosquito. A little needle? She rolled it around in her hand and the world swirled across all of Rory's senses. She stumbled backwards, hitting a hard body whose arms enveloped Rory's small frame. That voice, that voice in her ear once again...

  "You shouldn't forget to use a finishing blow." breathed a deep voice in her ear. He squeezed tightly, bringing Rory's senses back a little though the shock of pain that was sent through her body.

  "Ahh!" Rory cried out in pain, although her own voice sounded distant to her. "Ch-cheater..." She managed say through the vice grip that was forcing the air from her lungs. The voice chuckled again.

  "Like I said, we're not in the fighting ring, Ms. Rory. See you on the other side."

  Questions raced through Rory's mind, but the blackness at the edge of her vision had creeped in too far, and there was no going back from it now.



  The man in black threw the body towards the swordsman, who almost didn't catch her.

  "You carry her." The man in black commanded.

  "Ah okay..." The swordsman said, with a glance back at the woman who just shrugged in return. "Do you want me to bring her sword?"

  "Hah, this rusty stick can hardly be considered a sword." Said the woman examining it. "Linden, I don't think she could have beheaded you with this if she had had a whole year to saw at your throat. It's duller than my staff." She laughed. Linden threw Rory over his shoulder and came over to see.

  "Heh, you're right. She really had me going. Little minx." admitted Linden letting out a sigh of relief.

  "She would have just broken your neck with it." said the man in black seriously. He gingerly touched his side and grimaced. "Come on, let's get going." The other two nodded and followed silently.



CHAPTER II



Rory never directly opened her eyes anymore when waking up. It was a hard thing to do, but she had trained her body to keep up her guise at all times, because one day she might be questioned. So she opened first her ears and heard the sound of a mouse nibbling away at something nearby and the murmuring of voices in serious conversation in a room close by. She could smell a robust coffee being brewed and the cold dew of an autumn morning leaking through the window. She could feel a soft feathery bed beneath her, and rough ropes binding her hands and feet and... and... Rory's eyes flew open and she could see the early morning sun streaming through the carefully crafted glass window. Shit. She could see everything. What had they done with her blindfold? Footsteps and then the turning of a lock. Rory closed her eyes and tried to relax, but her heart pounded in her chest. The smell of soap and freshness invaded Rory's nose as the man leaned over the bed, tentatively checking on her sleeping body. Or maybe he was going to do something unpleasant to her unconscious body!? Rory threw her legs up in a powerful kick, knocking him back, and hopped with all her might out the open door only to be shoved back into the room by the airy smell that comes after a rain. A freshness of it's own. Rory hit the wooden floor hard.

  "We should tell Brock that she's awake." said the woman's voice that Rory recognized from the night before.

  "Yea-yeah." came the shaky reply of the swordsman also from the night before. "I'll go get him."

  Rory could feel the woman staring at her as she sat ashamed and captured on the floor. She twisted, feeling the tightness of the ropes that bound her hands behind her back.

  "Don't try anything..." the woman said softly. Rory gulped, and could feel the dried blood  on her throat crack. If she wasn't careful, she could reopen the cut. She wished she could open her eyes and see the faces of her attackers, but she kept reminding herself that it was probably her only ticket out. If she could convince them that they really had the wrong person maybe they'd let her go?

  More footsteps. Rory felt a hand grab the front of her shirt and roughly pull her up.

  "Brock wants to see her in his study." said the soapy smelling man. He tossed her over his shoulder and Rory's pale face flooded with red.

  "I'm not a sack of wheat! Put me down and let me walk you ass! I'm not who you're looking for!" she exclaimed angrily. The man and woman both laughed. She  was unceremoniously tossed down to the floor of a new room. Rory was unable catch herself because her hands were tied and her head smacked harshly against the floor. Once again, the world was spinning both physically and psychologically for Rory. She was angry, afraid, and humiliated.

  "This is her?" came a deep commanding voice from across the room. A pause.

  "Yes, Brock." The deep voice from somewhere in the room. Rory's face flooded again, this time with acute anger. That asshole was going to get it first from her. She wanted to see his face so badly it made her palms sweat, but that would be giving it all away.

  A hand grabbed her below the chin, pulling her up to her feet by the throat. Rory could feel the trickle of blood as the cut on her throat reopened.

  "Fascinating..." murmured the Brock guy as he examined her as if she was a prize

    "Puh-please, sir. I think you have the wrong person. If this is about entering in the tournaments, I'll stop right away." Rory pleaded her best, squeezing her eyes closed as hard as she could. Seconds passed that felt like eternity.

  "No. You are Rory?" came a calm reply.

  "Well, yes, my name is Rory. Bu-but lots of people have that name. Even girls have it! It's really common." She stuttered. Rory could almost taste his coffee breath as he scrutinized her face.

  "Even girls...?" He echoed softly.

  "Yessir, even girls. Can you imagine that? A little blind boy like me having the same name as a girl. It's kinda embarrassing!" Rory admitted through gritted teeth. She waited with baited breath. Would they let her go?

  "Are you saying that you're not a woman?" Brock asked, and Rory thought she could hear unease in his voice. Rory laughed, seeing an opportunity.

  "No sir, I'm not a girl. Trust me, you're not the first to make that mistake. So you see this whole thing has been one big—!" Brock had stepped behind her, and once again, there was a knife at her throat. Rory tried not to swallow.

  "So you're telling me that this...." His free hand trailed up her arm and then down her side, running along bumps of the binding beneath her soiled shirt. "... is not the body of a woman?" Rory's breath was caught and it was all she could do to shake her head carefully. The knife glided carefully away from her throat, down to the neck of her shirt.

  "Please I'm just a little blind boy." She cried fruitlessly one last time.

His other hand held her steady as Brock carefully cut down the center of her shirt, revealing the binding and her bare stomach below. Rory's heart pounded uncontrollably in her chest. What was going on? The knife now found it's way under a layer of the bandages and waited there. "I'll ask one more time, Ms. Rory. Are you saying that this isn't the body of a woman." Rory couldn't reply. She wanted to scream stop at the top of her lungs, but her pride held her in place. She squeezed her eyes tighter and waited.

  "Brock, stop that." came a deep voice softly though the haze of silence that had fallen over them. Before Rory knew what she was doing she opened her eyes wide, the sudden light burning them. Her yellow eyes met steadily by a pair of clear blue ones. A shock ran through her body. What was this feeling? Fear? Anger? Embarrassment? Her plan had not worked at all. Eight years blindfolded all for nothing.

  Rory was thrown to the floor once again, discarded by Brock. She felt rough hands gently pull her up to her feet. Soap. Rory glanced up to see the swordsman smiling apologetically down at her. Freckles splattered over his boyish features and his sandy blonde hair pointed in every direction. Rory felt a blush creep up her face. She hoped he didn't notice.

  Her attention pointed back to the man who had just dumped her as if she was yesterdays trash. He leaned casually against the desk, his long legs stretched out, and he regarded her with a look that Rory could not decipher. He grabbed below her chin again and turned her head to and fro. So this is why they said never to trust your eyes, Rory thought. The man could only have been five or six years older than her. His soft brown eyes and softer looking hair did no justice to his brutal personality.

  "Beautiful..." he whispered, and Rory jerked her head back out of his grasp. He sat back against the desk and she could see the excited glint in his eye. "Rory, let me tell you what's going on. You are now working for us." He gestured around the room. "We are a small fraction of a larger mercenary clan. But our clan works a little differently that most. We are not solely hired to fight in wars. We are also hired to take out leaders in a more... humane fashion."

  "So you're assassins." Rory said, spitting the words. Brock shrugged.

  "I guess you could say so. Well, in any case we were sent here specifically for a job. You're going to help us, and if you do..." Brock made a signal and the swordsman cut the binding from Rory's hands and feet. She rubbed her numb hands gently. Her wrists had been rubbed raw, and her sword arm was a mottled purple and blue from where that man had squeezed her wrist the night before. She glanced over at him, but he was facing away, staring out the window. He would be first... "If you do help us," Brock continued, "You can go free."

  "The moment you lean over to scratch an itch, or sneeze, or go to the bathroom. I'm out of here." Rory said darkly. Probably not the smartest thing to do, telling them she planned on escaping, but Rory was feeling cocky now that she could see what she was up against. "I made the mistake last time of assuming that you guys would fight with honor, but trust me, that wont happen again." Brock gave a knowing smile that put Rory on edge.

  "But if you were to try to escape, what would happen to sweet Sister Maria?" Rory's eyes widened and she let out a low growl.

  "You wouldn't dare..." She snarled. Showing her sharp canines for the first time in years. Brock just laughed.

  "I'm a mercenary, there's not a whole lot I wouldn't do. Now if you're done, can we continue?" He waited for her to object for a moment before continuing. "Now, aren't you wondering how you're going to help us? Well you shall be our little assassin this time." He pat her on the head. Rory wanted to rip his throat out with her bare teeth. She wanted to hear him scream in agony, but all she could do was think of the children and Sister Maria, who had been her only family for eight years. This would be the part in the stories that Rory read where the hero would leap up and destroy this dastardly villain with courageous words and quick thinking! But... Rory just sniffed, trying hard to hold back tears and swallow the lump in her throat. She was such a child sometimes.

  Brock leaned over, pulling something off the desk and thrust it in front of Rory's face. "You probably can't read what this says so I'll read it to you." sneered Brock. Rory snatched it from his grasp and started to read it. Sister Maria did a wonderful job teaching Rory all the basics that she was supposed to have learned. Math never quite stuck, but Rory had taken an interest in reading and had gotten pretty good at it. Not that anyone would have guessed with her "blindness". Rory scanned over the report. It was just some information on a Duke named Steiner that controlled a providence not too far from the city.

  "Duke Steiner?" asked Rory, her curiosity peaked. She had heard about this man before. Evil, he was called.

  "Ah, yes." Brock snatched the piece of paper back from her. "He is our target, and you will be the one to kill him."

  "And how will I do that exactly?" she asked flatly. Rory was getting tired of this conversation. Her stomach was about ready to eat itself, and her hands were beginning to tingle as the blood surged back into them. Brock lifted her chin once more.

  "We're going to sell you to him." He said. Rory's eyes widened. She had read about this sort of attack method. An innocent looking girl seduces the king and kills him with a kiss. The mere idea made her blush!

  "I think you have the wrong girl for this!" She said shaking her head out of his grasp. "I don't even know how to work with poison or anything like that, and my looks are too strange!"

  "Your looks are exactly why you're getting this job." Brock said sternly. "Do you realize what you are?" Rory looked down, abashed. Of course she knew.

  "I'm only half..." She mumbled.

  "It doesn't matter." Brock said shortly. "No one has seen one of the Fycrir people in years. I assume your mother was the last full-blooded one. Am I right?" Rory looked away. "So, Duke Steiner keeps a collection of exotic women, and if you're the last of your kind, which you are, you'll surely go for a high price. Higher than he thinks..." Brock smiled at his own joke.

  "And once we fix up your hair and getting you in the right clothing you're going to be a knockout." offered the woman to Rory's right. Rory glanced over. The woman was far more beautiful and womanly than her voice let on. Her soft hair was pulled back in a loose braid that ran down to her waist. Her hair was a light brown, only a shade or two lighter than her smooth complexion. Her eyes were a steely grey framed by long soft lashes.

  "Why don't you send her? She's pretty, and knows this assassin business better than me." Rory said gesturing.

  "Chris's face is far too well known." The sandy blonde swordsman replied. "Trust us, we're the good guys in all this. This duke is..." The swordsman shook his head. Silence followed.

  "I can't fight well outside the ring, though. How am I supposed to do this?" stated Rory. This duke really didn't sound like a saint to her. Any man who "kept a collection" of women left a bad taste in her mouth, but kidnapping and threatening a nun left a similar taste.

  "We will teach you some basics before you leave, and then we'll keep in touch once you're there." said Brock. Rory narrowed her eyes.

  "So I'm your slave pretending to be his slave."

  "We will compensate you, don't worry." Brock laughed. "So are you willing to do this?" He offered his hand. Rory glanced down at what remained of her shirt.

  I don't really have a choice, do I?" She asked. He shook his head. Rory grabbed his hand and squeezed. Was that a flicker of fear cross his eyes? She hoped so. Instead of releasing like she thought he would, Brock raised her hand to his lips before dropping it.

  "Chris... Linden... please show the little lady back to her room. Leon, you stay." Brock said before retiring back behind the heavy wooden desk.

  Now that Rory could see, she could tell that this was a rather cute little house. They

were probably still close to the city. She was led back to her room.

  "I've had the bath filled for you, and new clothes have been laid out next to it for you. I suggest getting in there while it's still warm." Chris said, gesturing to the door in the room that probably led to a bath room.

  Umm, thank you..." Rory said. Chris nodded and quickly left, locking the door behind her. Rory entered the bathroom, which was small but rather nice. She locked the door behind her and examined the window first. No bars. It opened easily, and as far as Rory could tell, she was only a couple stories up. She leaned against the bathroom wall, her ripped shirt tickling her bare midriff. She could escape easily. Did this mean that they weren't bluffing about Maria? In her stories the hero would have taken the chance, but Rory couldn't.

  She finished what that asshole Brock had started. Her dirty binding fell to the floor, a mess of sweat, blood, dirt. She lowered herself into the water and gave an appreciative growl. This was her big plan last night. Food, Bath, Reading. It was supposed to be a relaxing evening.

  Rory stayed in the bath, probably a little too long, the water had long since chilled and Rory shivered as she stepped out and dried herself off. The clothes they left her were not exactly to Rory's taste, but it was better than nothing. The clothing was the same style  as Chris's. The underwear was that of a woman, which was a new experience for Rory. She struggled with the bra for a couple minutes before figuring it out. The jeans were  tight and tucked easily into Rory's clunky knee high boots. The shirt, although long sleeved was also form fitting. Rory had never worn clothes such as these, and found them uncomfortable and embarrassing. They were probably good for close combat fighting because they would be harder to grab she rationalized. The sun had set, Rory tried the door again, still locked. She threw herself down on the bed that she had found herself on earlier. And stared at the ceiling. What a strange day it had been. Before she had realized, Rory's eyes had slid closed and the world had disappeared from her.

  It was a couple days like this. Food and books on various types of training were brought to Rory, but she wasn't allowed to leave her room. She wondered frequently when the training would begin. Chris would come in and talk to her, mostly on the benefits of using  a bow staff over a sword, and Rory would listen politely. She didn't think that Chris was much of a talker, but Rory was the only other woman in the household, and maybe that's why Chris felt the need to come and talk to her. For these nights, before drifting off, Rory would ponder her situation, digging deep within herself for some source of courage that would allow her to kick down the door and fight her way off the premises, but always her fears would rise in her throat, choking the bravado out of her system.



CHAPTER III



Rory sighed, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the personal battle raged in her mind, and unable to ignore the thoughts and fall into a blissful sleep, she had been keeping herself entertained by periodically throwing off the sheets in frustration, ready to pounce up and leap out the window, pacing the room, and finally hurling herself back onto the bed. Overall, it was an exhausting ordeal, and finally, unable to take the restless cycle again, Rory plopped herself in front of the window next to her bed. The night air was rather chilly for this time of year, a sharp breeze causing the hairs to prick up on Rory's arms. A great fury rose in Rory's chest, practically suffocating her, only to be drained quickly by self pity.

  "Sister Marie..." Rory murmured wistfully to herself. Much like a child being told to not touch a hot kettle, or to stay away from a certain dog, Rory found herself practically withering away with the need to see Sister Marie, perhaps, just because she had been denied the option. Rory glanced down at the dark ground below, as she had already many times before. A hand on the edge of the window. Another hand. Small pale toes creeping over the frame. Rory crouched in the window, only one quick pounce before landing gracefully on the ground and speeding off to save Sister Marie from certain doom. Or so she imagined. Rory chewed on her lip nervously, caught between her need to keep Sister Marie safe, and her desire to make sure that her surrogate mother was currently unscathed. A retreating hand. And then another. Rory slumped down on the bed, staring blandly ahead at the smooth wooden floor. As much as Rory imagined riding up on her white horse, and whisking away all the children and Sister Marie to live happily ever after, she realized that she would probably be causing far more trouble by trying to help. Rory's helpless anger skyrocketed once more. Why the hell had they chosen her?

  Rory fell backwards, the softeness of the bed enveloping her, trying to seduce her into a deep slumber. Although she fought to remain concious, once again, sleep easily overwhelmed her.

  Something didn't feel right. Rory bolted upright, only to be shoved back down by a strong hand on her chest. What the hell? No heartbeat? No scent? Who was this guy? Rory swung her arm around with all her brute strength, her hand connecting with her attackers face hard. He was caught off guard and hit the floor hard. Rory wasted no time, grabbing the pillow where her silvery head had rested moments ago and lunged on top of her attacker. She quickly smothered him, putting all of her weight on the pillow waiting for the throes and convulsions to stop. It only too a minute or two before he was silent. Rory threw the pillow away, panting. She looked down at her handiwork. He looked dead alright. His black hair fell in front of his half closed eyes and his slightly parted lips didn't make the rhythmic sounds of air sailing in and out. Even though he wasn't moving something still didn't feel right. Rory leaned down closer. Crystal clear blue eyes met her startled yellow ones. Before she know what had happened, he had flipped her over and sat atop of her, pinning her arms together above her head with one of his tan calloused hands. Rory let out an embarrassed growl. He leaned over, his face close to hers causing her heart to beat a crazy tattoo against the inside of her ribcage. What was he going to do to her?!

  "Lesson one: Always use a finishing blow." he breathed in her ear. Rory let out an angry growl. This guy! He released her hands and pushed himself up. He offered her his hand but Rory knocked it aside. "I'm Leon. I'll be teaching you stealth, and close combat with and without weapons. Chris will be teaching you the staff and bow. Linden will be teaching you the sword, although I hear you're already....somewhat proficient." Rory's face was hot with anger. She hated this guy! "Come on, I'm supposed to feed you before we begin training." Rory glanced out the window.

  "It's the middle of the night, we're training now?" She wondered out loud. He smirked.

  "We're training for stealth, remember? Come on." He threw open the door and strode out. Rory followed trying to think of something clever to say.

  "So is part of my training you sneaking up on me at weird times, or do you just do that for your own pleasure?" Rory asked. Yes, good one! She congratulated herself. Leon snorted.

  "Trust me, training only." He replied. Asshole!

  Leon fixed Rory a quick plate of food. Roast beef, a loaf of bread and an apple. This looked way better than the green soup that they had been shoving into her room for the past couple of days.

  "Hey guys!" Linden wandered in, picking an apple up and munching on in nonchalantly. He glanced from Leon to Rory, his eyes lingering for a moment. "Training tonight?" Linden and Leon spoke quietly while Rory ate. She pushed her plate away, somewhat satisfied.

  "That's it? That's all you're eating?" Leon asked incredulously. He was clearly annoyed that he had bothered to feed her at all.

  "Well I didn't have a whole lot of choices!" Rory snapped back.

  "What are you talking about, you didn't even touch the meat." He fired back.

  "I'm a vegetarian." Rory replied. "I don't eat meat." she further explained to their confused faces. Linden erupted in uncontrollable laughter.

  "What? You're a Fycrir, doesn't that make you sister of the wolves? How can you not like meat?" Linden asked, laughing.

  "I'm only half." Rory sniffed. Linden's laugher escalated. Even Leon was having a hard time holding back a smile. Linden clapped her on the shoulder.

  "Ahh, Rory you're going to make life fun." Linden leaned in closer "And if I might say so..." He gently tugged on a lock of her silvery hair, "I think those clothes suit you very well." Rory felt her face glow red hot. Another hand on her other shoulder.

  "Linden if you don't mind, we have to start training." Leon said cooly. Linden winked at her before sauntering off. Rory's heart skipped a beat. She glanced up at Leon, but his face was a smooth and professional mask.

  The wind swept Rory's bangs into her eyes. Her hair in the back was just barely long enough to be tied back into a stumpy ponytail, but that did nothing for her bangs that stung her eyes. She closed her eyes, it was too dark to see anything anyway, even for her. Rory could not hear that man's heartbeat, but that really meant nothing with him. He could very well be right behind her. The thought sent a chill up her spine. The howling of the wind through the trees and the rustling of the leaves made it almost impossible to hear footsteps as well. Rory gripped the knife she had been given to defend herself tightly.

    A vibration! Rory swung a wide circle with her blade. Had she misjudged the vibration? A kick square in her back told her that she had. She cushioned her fall by rolling, and stood up swinging a high roundhouse kick. It connected firmly with Leon's jaw, sending him flying into a tree. Yes! Rory did a victory leap and was about to do her victory dance when she realized that he hadn't moved in quite a while. Good, she hoped he was dead. She  looked over at his splayed form from the corner of her eye. He had probably killed hundreds of people, no, thousands. And animals, baby animals. Why should she care if he was dead? She shook her head at herself and jogged over to him. Leon was sprawled face down on the cold damp forest floor. Rory circled his body once before nudging him with her foot.

  "Hey... you okay?" She gave him a little tap on the ribs with her boot. She tapped a little harder. "Hey asshole, you okay?" Rory's back hit the ground hard, the air rushing out of her lungs. Leon had a firm grip on her ankle in one hand and a knife at her throat in the other. If she hadn't been flexible, this really would have hurt!

  "Ah, I think you're more suited to be on your back, Ms. Rory. You certainly aren't going to do good for our cause standing upright." Leon said, a cruel smile taking over his face. Rory stared at him blankly.

  "Do you mean wrestling? I mean, I'm okay at wrestling but it's not my best fighting method." Rory replied honestly. Leon looked taken aback.

  "You don't know what I mean?"

  "Yeah, I get it, apparently my fighting isn't up to your standard but we haven't had a fair fight ye—"

  "Rory how old are you?" he asked suddenly.

  "Twenty, why?" Leon stared at her a moment before laughing quietly. Rory felt herself getting angry. She shook her foot out of his grasp and stood quickly, brushing the dirt off her jeans. "I would have one, if you would fight fairly!" She yelled angrily. This guy was pissing her off! She turned sharply and started to walk back.

  "Wait, we're not finished!" He called angrily after her. She gestured unkindly back at him. He grabbed her shoulder, but Rory ripped it out of his grasp and swept his feet out from under him with a quick kick. Rory raised her foot high over her head. She was going to bring her heel down onto his face and turn it into something unrecognizable. Leon managed to roll out of the way just in time, but now that Rory was on the attack she wasn't going to let this golden opportunity slip by. She was going to show him a real fight.



  Leon dodged another crippling attack, but this girl was too fast for him to keep up this pace much longer. What was with her? Her attack pattern was vicious to say the least, seeing every weakness he gave. Leon knew that if he let himself get hit once it would be game over. His heart raced, and he was sure she could hear it now. Leon didn't have time to grab any of the various knives he had hidden across his body, and he was sure she knew this. Whoosh. That attack had grazed the top of Leon's head. He glanced around.

  There was his savior! Rory had dropped the knife he had given her at the beginning of this whole ordeal. If he could just get it... Leon rolled barely dodging another attack. He was tiring quickly, it had been a long time since he had had to fight a person face on like this. Why did he turn down all those sparring fights that Linden had offered?

  Leon leapt for the knife. Rory brought her leg up ready to crack open his head like a melon with those hefty boots of hers. Leon brought the knife up above his head, and Rory's heel rang against the flat part of the blade. The sharp point dug into the palm of his hand, causing blood to trickle freely down his arm, as the blade bent and snapped in two. Rory was caught off guard at the sudden hit after so many misses and Leon took the moment to grab her wrist and toss her light frame against a tree.

  The impact shook the tree, causing whatever leaves remained on it to flutter softly to the ground. Pain registered on her little face, but Leon took no chances and had what remained of the knife at her throat in an instant. He could hear her heart beating wildly in her chest, and he knew his sounded the same. Her chest heaved and her entire frame shook with exhaustion against his. She lifted her head, her eyes meeting his steadily. A couple moments of silence passed. Rory let out a light laugh and looked down. Leon was careful not to cut her.

  "Damn... I was so sure I could beat you." She said, taking a deep breath. Leon laughed too. For a while there, he thought she was going to.



  Rory walked a couple paces behind Leon on their descent back to the house. They were farther from the city than Rory had originally expected. She could tell that Leon was on high alert, but he didn't need to worry. She was far too tired to try another attack. Besides that, she didn't want to. Leon stopped suddenly and turned to her. His blank mask had fallen off and a look that Rory couldn't quite place had overtaken his face.

  "Rory, you..." he paused, his eyes meeting the ground steadily, "you really didn't get what I was saying earlier?" She shook her head "do you.. um... know what..." He searched for the right words. "intercourse is?" Rory tried to control the embarrassed look that overtook her face, but she had never been good at hiding her emotions. She waved her hand nonchalantly.

  "Yeah of course, I'm not a kid." She replied. Leon gave a sigh of relief, glad that he didn't have to explain the concept to her. Anger overtook her. "Hey, is that what you were referring to earlier? You ass!" She shouldered past him and called back in an uppity tone, "As your body can tell you right now, I'm a fighter, not a lover!" Rory looked back to see him staring intently at her. She turned around and started walking backwards. "You know, if you hadn't grabbed that knife I would have beaten you easi—oomph!" Rory's heel caught in a hole sent her flying backwards, landing hard. Leon couldn't keep it in and doubled over in laughter. Rory smiled too. She was glad that she got to see this side of him, laughing and smiling. He was more human and relatable this way. Or maybe that was just the Stockholm Syndrome setting in. Now that she could see him in the moonlight, Leon could not have been that much older than her, a year or two at most.

  Maybe her first impressions had been a little off, Rory thought as they made their way back down to the house.