Rot ━ Mal Oretsev ✓

012: KILL THE WITCH

   "I just. . . I don't understand."

Zoya is the first of them to speak, trotting along the stone path alongside Thalia and her Appaloosa horse, Lana. They had left (more so fled) the Little Palace not an hour ago, but had yet to speak a word. Thalia had simply saddled Lana up upon arriving back at the stable and told Zoya to get a move on if they wanted to make it there before sundown tomorrow.

Thalia shrugs her shoulders lightly now, "I told you. I punched her."

   "No, I got that part," Zoya certifies. "I just haven't quite been able to grasp why."

   "Quite simple, really. I didn't want to be there without you, so I found a way to be sent off."

And really, it was that simple. She had deliberately led them to a crowded area so that witnesses were not in short supply for when she put her plan into action. While she would rather have hit someone else, anyone else, Alina was the obvious answer. Kirigan would now protect her with his life, and Thalia needed to piss him off enough that he saw no choice but to have her sent away from the Little Palace.

It had worked. Almost immediately after she had clocked Alina in the face, Thalia found herself surrounded by Kirigan's entire personal guard. Fifteen minutes later saw her walking through the castle with a fresh face of tears (fake, obviously) and going to 'pack her bags.'

As she expected, the entire plan had gone off without a hitch. Now she and Zoya were on their way to the camp they had left only days ago, and Thalia was feeling rather accomplished. She was learning to celebrate the small victories.

The only bad thing about leaving the Little Palace was having to put her sessions with Ludmilla on hold, but Thalia could deal with it. For now, she would continue to live by the advice that had already been supplied to her and try not to cry (or drink) herself into a pit of misery.

She'll be okay. She is sure of that now. It just takes some time.

As they continue to travel the distance, Thalia finds her mind wandering. She visits Zaria, remembering how she fell off of her horse a whopping three times in their first lesson before declaring defeat. She thinks of Belle, her horse from back home, who had been too old and frail to ride but loved to try her best anyway. At some point, Thalia even thinks of Mal.

He hasn't crossed her mind very much in the time she's been home. They weren't really friends, after all. More like acquaintances who looked for a sense of comfort in one another. She wonders if he'll be there when they arrive back. Though it is unlikely, Thalia can't help but hope that he will.

The journey usually takes well over a day, and they try to only stop a handful of times to relieve themselves or get a small nap in. Arriving back at camp sleepy is not a good idea, and neither is lack of sleep when you are lone Grisha on a venture. You have been trained to be ready for battle at the blink of an eye, but you can't blink if your eyes are closed.

On their third stop, Zoya takes watch. She hooks Bela and Lana to a nearby tree stalk by their reins, while Thalia takes refuge between them, leaning her head lightly on Zoya's shoulder. It's clear that the Squaller would rather her have been anywhere else, but she does not shove her off. She isn't sure when she drifted off, or how long she was asleep, but Thalia was woken abruptly by a loud shout of her name and a large gust of wind being set her way.

But this time, it is not the wind speaking to her. It is Zoya, and she is in trouble.

Immediately, like her training taught her to be, Thalia is in battle mode. She abandons the post where Bela and Lana are resting, listening out for Zoya's voice. Another blast of wind comes from her left, and Thalia is running in that direction before it has calmed and she loses it again.

Zoya is locked in a brawl with two (Thalia suspects Fjerdan) men, and another lies motionless on the ground. One has a tight lock around her neck and is clamping her hands together behind her back, while the other fumbles with a set of handcuffs and delivers harsh kicks to her stomach every few seconds, ensuring she stays down.

Her next moves are routine, the same ones she has performed every time they have been attacked. She sets her gaze on the Drüskelle restraining Zoya, slowing his heartrate to a dangerous pace while she approaches the other from the behind. Her footsteps are quiet enough that he does not hear her coming, too focused on his fainting friend, and goes down swiftly when Thalia's boot harshly meets the root of his neck.

The other Drüskelle is beginning to claw at his chest, grip loosening enough for Zoya to slip three. Zoya uses wind to knock him to the floor whilst Thalia changes her area of focus, setting his heart back. A slight flash of relief crosses the mans face, but his hopes are crushed in a matter of seconds when his airways begin to close up.

He falls to the ground only seconds later, dead. While she is sure his two companions met the same fate, Thalia double checks before giving Zoya the okay. She nods, using her hands to shake the trees surrounding the Drüskelle, bringing them down atop of them. The force sends them underground, packed beneath the dirt and out of sight.

  "We have to go," Zoya instructs, and Thalia follows without a question. "No more stopping. We can't take any risks."

   "Do we know how they found us?" Thalia asks while they straddle their horses. Zoya ignores her, focused on getting them out of the area. Five minutes later, Thalia speaks again. "Zoya."

Zoya breathes heavily, "I think they must have been hanging around the trail. A massive group of them attacked when General Kirigan was travelling with Starkov, and my best guess is that our attackers were of the few that made it out alive and hid out when members of the First Army came to find survivors."

   "Then why didn't they attack when we passed the first time?" Thalia queries, confused. "They had a perfect opportunity to get us before, so why did they wait around on the off chance that another group would come by?"

   "They were outnumbered. This time, as far as they were aware, I was alone, so they attacked. I don't think they counted on me being accompanied by a Heartrender, of all people."

   "That is so stupid," Thalia derides, sort of laughing, sort of scoffing. "I mean, why do they think that? It doesn't make sense for a Grisha to travel without a Heartrender with them, seeing as we're the ones able to inflict serious injuries the easiest."

Zoya laughs lightly, "It is not as if Fjerdan men are known for brains over brawn. You can't expect them to have intelligent thoughts when the only thing in their hollow heads is a manic chant of Kill The Witch, Kill The Witch."

And she might have been imagining it, but Thalia thought that she heard a small twinge of hurt in Zoya's voice. But she was definitely imagining it, because if there was one person in the world who could not care less about the opinion of a Fjerdan man if they tried, it was Zoya Nazyalensky.

The rest of the journey passes in a collective silence, and unspoken agreement between the two girls that now was not the time for talking. If they wanted to gossip, there would be time later. For now, their priority was getting to camp and to safety.

By the time they arrive, it is with great exhaustion and well after sundown the next day. Zoya goes to check them in with the head of camp while Thalia retreats to the empty Grisha tent, putting their things away. Dinner is eaten in a further silence, and they both retire to bed before midnight.

As her head hits the pillow, Thalia realises that the current of the wind seems to have changed. No longer does it taunt her, but instead, whispers things that sound suspiciously like hope.