She pounded through the forest, moving with a surprising turn of speed and as nimble as could be. It was an impressive feat, especially when there was an arrow sticking out of her back, high and to the right of her spine. It was not the only injury she had suffered this day; cuts and scrapes and bruises marred her body from head to toe.
Saplings whipped at her as she blurred past, her breathing labored and becoming moreso every step she took. Blood half-filled one of her lungs where the arrow pierced it, and she drooled blood down her chin as she made her escape. Behind her, two more of her pursuers yet chased her. There had been four of them at the beginning of this encounter, but now there were only two. At least one of the others would not harry her ever again; she had torn her throat out with her bare hands after they got her on the ground, trying to bind her. Again.
Always, and always, did they come. She had no concept of money, no concept of a bounty...but she had a concept for a bounty hunter, for the people that came to try and capture her. She did not understand entirely why they did what they did, only that every attempt ended in agony for her. For the hunters, well...it ended in her slipping away or their deaths, though the latter was far more rare than the former.
She leapt another log, and stumbled on landing; the ground was soft and slick and she ended up rolling in the mud before coming up. The haft of the arrow snapped, and there was pain. That she felt it at all was not a good sign; to say that the chimera was hardy was like saying the snow was cold. She narrowly avoided growing a new feathered shaft as she got to her feet.
With a snarl and a muffled curse, one of the two leapt the fallen log but, unlike her, kept his feet on landing. He had a sword out, a light, delicately bladed weapon more rapier than anything. He immediately moved in to strike at her, an overhand slash that would cut her in two.
...or should have. With a muffled squeak, the chimera - long red hair, narrow and delicate face with eyes the color of jade and pale, freckled skin - lifted a hand and caught his sword on the down stroke. Blood pattered into the soft ground she stood on, and smirched her muddy smock that was already more rags than actual clothing. She yelped, but did not release the blade, fingers reflexively closing on it. The fact that she had fingers still was amazing. The blade had stopped as surely as if it had struck stone when it hit the bone of her hand, slicing through her flesh with more effort than would have been expected.
The look on his face was priceless. She let go of the weapon, and despite the shock on his face, he still reacted quickly, and ran the blade through her belly. She clutched at it with both hands, but it still slid in and out through her back, blood pattering from lacerated palms, fingers, and weeping out where she had been pierced. She let the blade go, and struck the man in the face with all her strength.
A crunch of bone, and the fellow went flying half a dozen feet to land in a boneless heap, his face misshapen where she had hit him. He twitched sporadically, but did not rise.
More cursing from further away...but no other assailant came. No more arrows came, either.
Panting, her breath gurgling in her chest, the young chimera finished withdrawing the blade from her guts. The pain had increased ten fold already, and it took every bit of effort for her to turn and make a limping run in the opposite direction. Each step jarred her insides and made her want to vomit, but she couldn't stop. She had to keep going, to escape. Even though they would come again, and she would have to run. Again.
The scent of water, the sound of it rushing. Soothing, it drew her on. She was growing rather tired, and the exhaustion creeping into her limbs made her forget about the pursuers behind her. Her movements were becoming more labored, her breathing harder, and the pain more intense...
The blood-soaked chimera, a girl for all outward appearances, stumbled to the edge of the forest. The trees cleared away, here, near a place where the land had fallen a dozen feet suddenly. A stream cascaded over the stones, moss and lichen clinging to the rock face, the water running in a dozen different rivulets until it all gathered itself and continued on into the forest over rounded stones. Somewhere not far to the east a trade road ran, and on the opposite bank the remnants of an oft-used camp stood, empty.
Mara saw none of this. She managed to get to the edge of the stream, and plunge her head into the shockingly cold water, and drink her fill. And then, without any preamble, she collapsed on the far bank, her blood threading through the stones to stain the waters for a short way before being diluted to nothing by the sweet waters.
Saplings whipped at her as she blurred past, her breathing labored and becoming moreso every step she took. Blood half-filled one of her lungs where the arrow pierced it, and she drooled blood down her chin as she made her escape. Behind her, two more of her pursuers yet chased her. There had been four of them at the beginning of this encounter, but now there were only two. At least one of the others would not harry her ever again; she had torn her throat out with her bare hands after they got her on the ground, trying to bind her. Again.
Always, and always, did they come. She had no concept of money, no concept of a bounty...but she had a concept for a bounty hunter, for the people that came to try and capture her. She did not understand entirely why they did what they did, only that every attempt ended in agony for her. For the hunters, well...it ended in her slipping away or their deaths, though the latter was far more rare than the former.
She leapt another log, and stumbled on landing; the ground was soft and slick and she ended up rolling in the mud before coming up. The haft of the arrow snapped, and there was pain. That she felt it at all was not a good sign; to say that the chimera was hardy was like saying the snow was cold. She narrowly avoided growing a new feathered shaft as she got to her feet.
With a snarl and a muffled curse, one of the two leapt the fallen log but, unlike her, kept his feet on landing. He had a sword out, a light, delicately bladed weapon more rapier than anything. He immediately moved in to strike at her, an overhand slash that would cut her in two.
...or should have. With a muffled squeak, the chimera - long red hair, narrow and delicate face with eyes the color of jade and pale, freckled skin - lifted a hand and caught his sword on the down stroke. Blood pattered into the soft ground she stood on, and smirched her muddy smock that was already more rags than actual clothing. She yelped, but did not release the blade, fingers reflexively closing on it. The fact that she had fingers still was amazing. The blade had stopped as surely as if it had struck stone when it hit the bone of her hand, slicing through her flesh with more effort than would have been expected.
The look on his face was priceless. She let go of the weapon, and despite the shock on his face, he still reacted quickly, and ran the blade through her belly. She clutched at it with both hands, but it still slid in and out through her back, blood pattering from lacerated palms, fingers, and weeping out where she had been pierced. She let the blade go, and struck the man in the face with all her strength.
A crunch of bone, and the fellow went flying half a dozen feet to land in a boneless heap, his face misshapen where she had hit him. He twitched sporadically, but did not rise.
More cursing from further away...but no other assailant came. No more arrows came, either.
Panting, her breath gurgling in her chest, the young chimera finished withdrawing the blade from her guts. The pain had increased ten fold already, and it took every bit of effort for her to turn and make a limping run in the opposite direction. Each step jarred her insides and made her want to vomit, but she couldn't stop. She had to keep going, to escape. Even though they would come again, and she would have to run. Again.
The scent of water, the sound of it rushing. Soothing, it drew her on. She was growing rather tired, and the exhaustion creeping into her limbs made her forget about the pursuers behind her. Her movements were becoming more labored, her breathing harder, and the pain more intense...
The blood-soaked chimera, a girl for all outward appearances, stumbled to the edge of the forest. The trees cleared away, here, near a place where the land had fallen a dozen feet suddenly. A stream cascaded over the stones, moss and lichen clinging to the rock face, the water running in a dozen different rivulets until it all gathered itself and continued on into the forest over rounded stones. Somewhere not far to the east a trade road ran, and on the opposite bank the remnants of an oft-used camp stood, empty.
Mara saw none of this. She managed to get to the edge of the stream, and plunge her head into the shockingly cold water, and drink her fill. And then, without any preamble, she collapsed on the far bank, her blood threading through the stones to stain the waters for a short way before being diluted to nothing by the sweet waters.