The broken off scream knocked her out of her comfortable daze, her steps faltered to a stop, and her hand gripped the tightly around the handle of her knife, even as she resolutely kept her gaze on the ground in front of her. Even this late in the evening, the main street was safe and well lit. Anyone that wandered off into the dimly lit alleys beyond put themselves in danger and deserved whatever happened to them. It certainly wasn't her responsibility to try to save them, try being the operative word. It wasn't like she was any sort of fighter or even particularly strong. She managed two more steps before the sobbing started.
What was a child doing out there? Where were its parents? And why did Layla get the responsibility of saving it if its parents didn't care enough to keep it out of the alleys at midnight? Stupid frakkin' parents. The knife wouldn't be enough, not if they wanted the kid for some reason, but maybe it was just some mugger as surprised to see the kid as she was to hear it? Maybe he'd run off and left it sobbing there, probably in a pool of its mother's blood. Yeah, if she could only be so lucky.
ReplyDeleteLayla gripped her knife tightly in her fist as she crept toward the alley, the childish cries drawing her onward, squinting to see in the dim light. She heard it before she saw it, the thump of a body hitting the ground, then running, then a pool of red. Not blood, surprisingly, but bright red cloth, a richer color than anything she'd seen before. And slumped against the wall in a broken pile was a girl, dressed simply despite the evident richness of the cloak. As she watched the girl drew in a gasping breath and whimpered.
ReplyDeleteShe almost ran back out, hurrying to the safety of Main Street. No one was in immediate danger. The girl was alive. The robber was gone. She didn't need to go any deeper into the alley. After all it could still be a trap. But she took another step. And another. Until the child looked up and caught her eyes.
ReplyDeleteShe looked so scared, but there was also a touch of hope there that had Layla crouching down in front of her. Tear tracks streaked the dirt on her face and there was blood matting her hair at the temple, she was holding one arm close to her body to protect it. "It's okay," she soothed as she reached out, carefully not thinking about what could have made the girl's assailants flee, without doing much damage, or even taking the cloak.
ReplyDelete"Have you lost all sense of self-preservation, Child?" The ancient voice asked calmly, at odds with the confusion and fear still etched on the childish face. It pressed against the wall to lever itself to a standing position, ignoring the proffered hand, and twisting it's face into a scowl as it looked her over. "What are you?"
ReplyDelete"What am I? What do you mean what am I? What the hell are you?" Layla backed away and shook her head, "You know, never mind. I don't want to know. I'll just be on my way now." She continued to back up slowly, hands held up and out, away from her body, far away from any weapons that might label her as a threat.
ReplyDelete"I don't think so." The ancient thing grinned -- an absolutely terrifying expression. It slowly lifted a hand almost copying Layla's gestures promising safety. Then, in a sudden movement, clenched it into a fist. Layla felt the bands of magic tighten around her, freezing her in place. "You may be just what I need."
ReplyDelete