Cursed Angels

The cold snows were supposed to cover it up, my aunt always said. Just wait for the cold snow, and we'll be free, free to live life as though three men weren't dead because of me. Maybe she was right- maybe if the winter had come a little sooner, or those assassins had come a little later, things wouldn't have ended up like this.

And yet we will never know. Because that's not the reality I'm living in.

My reality is sitting in the cold forest, shivering as the wind bites into every inch of exposed flesh it can find, leaving trails of goosebumps as it whispers past my skin. My reality is the cuts and scrapes littering my arms from the thorns that plucked at me during my mad dash. My reality is the physical pain that could never compare to the aching emptiness sitting heavy in my chest.

At this point, I'm not sure how long I've been sitting against this tree, hardly breathing, holding back the wet tears that welled up in my eyes ages ago. I'm pretty confident I escaped my pursuers, but even if not, I can't run any farther. I have nothing left to give. Nothing left to lose.

They already took everything away from me.

With a sigh, I wrap my arms around my knees and rest my head on them. I'm so, so tired. It feels like forever since I last slept, and all of the events from today are weighing heavy on me, contributing to the weight dragging down my eyelids. How nice it would be to just rest for a while.

But I can't. Chances are, those people- no, those monsters, are still out looking for me. Staying here for this long was dangerous enough, but falling asleep is a thousand times worse. Grabbing onto a tree branch for support, I heave myself to my feet, legs wobbling beneath me. Reminding me just how much time I've already wasted.

I turn around, reaching for the tiny satchel that contains my only remaining possessions, but I trip over my own two feet, still half numb from the position I was sitting in. Groaning, I brush some leaves off my legs and grab my bag.

But in the same moment my hand wraps around the coarse leather strap, a strong hand grabs my ankle and tugs me harshly across the forest floor. I cry out, trying to dig my fingernails in the dirt for any semblance of traction, but it does next to nothing. Whoever has me in their grip doesn't even seem to care.

"Ahh, what is a little deerie like ye' doing out here in the forest? All alone too! Aye, what a treat we've found, boys!" A harsh, grating voice chuckles, and it shocks me out of my silent trance. I start screaming, kicking out both of my legs in an attempt to free myself. But everything I do is futile, just eliciting another laugh from whoever is holding me.

"Let me go!" I yell, cursing as I thrash again, trying to shake his nasty hand off my exposed skin, using my elbows to try and pull at least my upper body up, but the man just laughs and tugs on my leg again, scraping my stomach up from the rocks littered about.

Thinking logically, I'm pretty confident it's not the men who found me earlier. They reeked of smoke and fire, and whatever language they spoke... their garbled words are engraved in my head. Ghiash loum j'kyia. Those words they whispered over and over and over as they-

A sudden jerk to my ankle sends me crashing over onto my stomach and I scream again, even louder despite knowing how few travelers there are in this forest. That's why I fled all the way here, because I thought it would be safe.

"Ye' really shouldn't be someplace like here, pretty deer! There are big, bad wolves in this bad forest that would just love to eat ye' up!" As if to emphasize his words, the man who grabbed onto me yanks me into their air by my leg, dangling me upside down in front of him. I swing my arms out, hoping to at least land a punch or two, but I fail miserably, every part of my body screaming out in pain at my sudden movements.

My captor grins down at me, showing off a smile full of missing, broken, or just plain yellow teeth. His face is scarred, hair haphazardly cut to his scalp, leaving large chunks of hair much longer than others. The tales told by my aunt of bandits that plague this forest pop into my head, along with the countless warnings she gave.

Well shit. It's too late now.

Another man steps out from behind him, grinning at me like I'm a hunk of meat. "Aye, I call the first round with her. She looks fresh, I bet she ain't even been tasted before."

The man who still has me dangling upside down suddenly drops me, but he steps firmly down on my side as I try to wiggle away. Other than that, the two bandits act as though I'm not there.

"Ye' know as captain that I get first dibs, got it! Plus, we all know what ye' did to the last one!"

"Hrghh... but please, boss, just this once?"

A couple more footsteps thud across the ground, echoing through my head and body. How many of them are there? There's no way I can escape them, especially with the condition my body is in.

But I have to try.

As the bandits continue to bicker, I slowly slide my hand through slippery mud, wrapping my hand firmly around the tiny blade that I dropped earlier. While it may be small, it's razor sharp, and the scar on the back of my hand from childhood is a testament to that fact.

Maybe, just maybe, I could escape.

Heart pounding in my chest, I twist my body up, plunging my blade as hard as I can through the sole of the captain's boot, still partway pressed to my side. Luckily his boots aren't very thick, and I can tell I hit his skin by the howl of pain, followed by a few choice words.

Still clutching the knife tightly, I roll over and scramble to my feet, nearly slipping again on the newly muddied earth. I hadn't even noticed the sprinkle that had begun, so distracted by almost being kidnapped. A valid excuse, in my opinion.

"How dare that little bitch- just kill her! If you get 'er, you get do whatever to her body!" The injured leader yells through yowls of pain, and I shiver, heart beating furiously. No, please no. I can't do this. I won't be able to outrun them, of outfight them.

A slick, slimy hand grabs my elbow and, as I turn, a fist crashes into my face. The whole world spins around me and I swear I see pinpricks of shining stars at the edge of my vision. Gasping for air, I desperately stab the knife deep into his hand, almost scratching my own skin with how deep it cuts him. Faintly I hear his jerking cries of pain as his hand slides off me, but the pounding in my head and heart overwhelm every other sound.

Turning around once more, I only make it a few more steps before someone roughly pushes me from behind, and I land face-first in the muddy forest floor. I groan from the impact, but the blunt pain of my fall is soon replaced by a white-hot bolt in my leg, searing me inside out.

I throw my head back and just scream. The sort of scream that rips up your throat and leaves you wondering if it even came from you. Writhing on the ground, I barely make out the head of a spear, sticking deep into the flesh of my calves. Already blood is gushing out over the rusted metal and across my pale skin, and I have to tear my eyes away from the gruesome sight.

Already I can feel my strength draining away, bleeding out of my body along with the crimson liquid. My head still aches from the blow to my face, and I didn't have much strength to begin with. Everything just feels hopeless in this moment, as the man who stabbed me laughs and digs the pointed tip deeper into my leg. Even the pain is starting to numb and blur as darkness creeps up in the corners of my vision.

I never wanted to die, not like this. Not to be taken back like a rag doll to be used and abused by these bandits. But speared like a fish on the ground, I don't see any other alternative but failure. How could all of those people have died for me, just to get killed like this?

Fuck this.

I'm not sure if it's the pain searing through my veins or the overwhelming desire to win, for my family to not have died in vein. But something, something triggers it once more. All the torment in my body dims, replaced with a soothing, lulling feeling, like laying in water. The world around me, previously edged with black and red, is overtaken by a near blinding sheet of white.

Just like that last time, I don't feel in control of my body. A different kind of puppet. Yet I don't altogether mind- while I can't really tell, what's happening, there is one thing I'm sure of. I'm powerful. They can't touch me anymore.

I'm vaguely aware of my body floating off of the ground and hovering in the air, and then a sort of blast of wind rushes around me. I can't see through the white veil over my eyes, but I can hear screaming, a horrible, ear shattering noise, as if people are burning alive. A grin slips onto my face. Good. Those bastards better pay.

I lift up my arms, but the sudden surge of energy I felt earlier is disappearing. Noises flood my ears, louder than before. Voices I hadn't heard earlier, the clang of steel against steel. But as the bright white that I had been seeing disappeared, it's replaced my darkness and I realize I'm passing out.

My body crumples in the air, dropping like a stone as the air around me whizzes past my face. I'm too far gone to even try to stop myself. Instead, I just let the exhaustion take over my body, and a beat before impact, I'm unconscious once more.