Cloud Piercer

Three

I struggle against my captor, swinging my limbs around. Slamming my head against the building, they render me motionless. My breath quivers. I look up. They're an entire head taller than me, their frame dwarfing mine. My legs flail slightly, lifted off the ground.

They wear a mask that covers half of their face, only their mouth visible.

"You are following me." His voice is so low I can't make out some of the vowels. It sends a chill down my spine. "Why?"

I grab at his hands, covered in black gloves, but his grip is unrelenting. My words won't come. We hear of the deserters right from when we are young, warned of their dangerous tendencies, of their violence. I knew what I was signing up for when I set out to find them, but the fear paralyses me.

He presses the knife firmer against my throat. "Answer me."

"I—I mean n-no harm."

A figure appears over his shoulder, the other one, watching. Their face is concealed too, but their gaze burns even through the gauze of their face covering.

"Who sent you? Are you with Ereon?" Does he mean King Ereon? The thought registers for a fleeting moment before a knee nudges into my stomach. "Talk."

"No one sent me. I-I-I've been looking for you."

He reaches up and pulls my hood back, revealing my face. My dark hair spills over my shoulders as I stare at him wide-eyed.

"You do not belong here," he says.

I can breathe again, but I'm still suspended a few feet in the air, his knife still at my neck. I can feel the dagger strapped to my thigh beneath the cloak, but I don't risk trying to grab it. One wrong move and he'll slit my throat.

"I—I know you're a deserter."

He tilts his head sideways calculatingly, the left side of his mouth twisting into a dark smile. "And you want to report us to the council."

"I want to join you."

He pauses. His companion sheaths the dagger they'd been holding and waves a hand. "Get rid of her. And hurry up, we're already late."

My heart lunges as she disappears in the fog, leaving her companion to finish me off. I knew the deserters were dangerous–they have their reputation for a reason–but I didn't realise they'd be so threatening to me.

"I apologise," he murmurs, gloved hand tilting my head gently to the side. My pulse leaps in my neck as he brushes his fingers down the length of my throat. "I don't take pleasure in the thought of killing helpless, foolish girls." His fingers toy with my hair. "What a waste."

He presses the dagger into my skin; it elicits a short, sharp pain. Wrenching my dagger from my thigh, I swing my arms to break his grip and lash my dagger out. The captor easily dodges my advances, stepping back and tilting his head. Beneath his hood, he smiles.

I hold my dagger towards him, fingers quivering. "I'm not helpless."

"Perhaps not." He knocks my feet from beneath me and I fall flat onto my back. "But still foolish."

My breath comes in ragged gasps as I lie on the ground, watching him closely. He cut my neck, not deeply, but enough to draw blood. He turns and starts to walk away.

"Wait! Please! Let me come with you."

"Don't make me regret sparing your life."

"Please. I want to help you. I want... Please... My brother was taken last Red Moon." At this, he pauses. "You can trust me. I don't want to report you to the shifters. I hate them."