Bourne

one

Lina was no stranger to death and danger. She knew the twists and turns of every forest she stepped into better than a Minotaur knew his maze.
Her feet were small and gentle and moved with such quickness and carefulness that they didn't snap a twig as she twirled through the thick undergrowth. One last knot, she thought to herself, intertwining the rope in her hands to make a simple loop. It would be hard; especially when using rope so thick with hands so small, but she had practiced this countless times before and could now do it with ease.

Lina did a quick lap around the area, going over every nook and knot one more time before laying the final touches of her trap. Bait. A strategically placed sheep with it's hooves tied together so that it couldn't run if it's sedative wore off too soon.

She checked her pocket watch - just a few minutes to midnight, it read - and quietly sunk into the shadows.

This was her least favorite part of the hunt. The wait. Ten minutes felt like ten hours when you were waiting for your prey to come by and no longer than three minutes in, Lina felt the strong urge to get up and stretch her limbs. Time slugged on as she watched from the shadows. Patience, she told herself. It was a concept she'd always struggled with. She was not afraid like most women of her time would have been. She was not nervous either. She was bored. Greatly, immensely, absolutely bored. Her body was pulsing with energy just begging to be let out. Like a rollercoaster at it's peak height, seconds away from going down full speed. Do something. She started tapping her finger on the thick tree roots. Counting sheep in her head.

One sheep, two sheep, three hundred sheep later the wind stopped and the world went still. The crickets went silent and the birds stopped flying. Her ears twitched. Her finger stopped. Her body stiffened. Don't make a sound.

It was midnight now. The start of the witching hour.

The world came alive again but this time it was different. These were not the sounds of the usual critters. These were the sounds of things far more dangerous waking up. Uncoiling and stretching out of their caves and holes. It started with a snapping twig and a few ruffling leaves then the forest was abuzz with weird and alien sounds. Shadow rats, pitch black legless ghouls, scurried across the ground and up the trees with terrifying speed, momentarily disappearing behind the trunks before wrapping their claws around a bird's nest. Lina thought vaguely about how she had always wanted to catch one but they were always a second too fast. Oh well, they were only minor pests no different from regular fleshy rats. She was here for the bigger fry.

Thump. Lina crouched forward and looked through the leaves of the bush she was hidden in. Thump thump thump, it came again, the rhythmic thumping of a giant's footsteps. It's arrival was simultaneous with the sheep's awakening. A lucky coincidence (or it could be that the noise woke it up). The frightened creature began to bleat. Calling for help. Hoping to attract it's shepherd or at least other sheep, but instead calling the attention of the complete opposite. The thumping grew louder and tree trunks shook as the apex predator appeared. Standing at eight feet tall with a rusted machete in one hand, a grey orc stepped into the small clearing.

Lina's ears perked up in anticipation. She watched the potbellied, thick skinned man-beast step into the trap as he threw the poor sheep over his shoulder. Just as he began to walk away, the thick rope tightened around his ankle as Lina pushed a strategically placed rock, with the other end of the rope tied around it, downhill. The orc roared as his face hit the ground and his body dragged across it, leaving a bruise from his cheek to his belly before he hung upside down on one foot. The shadow rats scurried away in fright.

Lina smirked. Got you. She stood up, stretched and casually walked out of her hiding place. "Oh my my my," she said, calling the attention of the struggling orc. He stopped his writhing and roaring to see her. She smirked. "Grindel, is it?"

"Let me go, ya filthy little-" he growled, swinging his fists in her direction.

She picked up his machete and studied it. "You might wanna keep still. Falling head-first from that height could cause extreme damage to your skull and..." she looked at him toe to head, "whatever is left of your brain." This made him stop thrashing about. "Who are you?" Grindel spat, drool falling from his tusked mouth.

Lina was about to answer him when a familiar thumping sound started again. This time, it was off beat. A mess of sound coming coming from all directions. "More orcs?" she said under her breath.

Just like the first, they emerged from the woods. All six of them. Ranging from eight to ten feet tall and holding either a machete or a club in one hand. Grindel snickered at Lina's situation.

"Well, well, look what we have here," said one of the orcs with a wooden club. He appeared to be the leader of them all, not the biggest but it wasn't hard to see that he was the alpha. He was the thickest, the greyest, the most brutal looking. Piercings of rusted silver and gold decorated his body and red scars ran across his skin. "What do we have here... " he growled, "Grindel falls victim to the oldest of tricks. Typical." The others snicker. Lina guessed that Grindel was the weakest of the orcs.

"And what do we have here?" the heavily jewelled orc said, turning to the young woman like she was too small to notice. A tiny insignificant spec, an afterthought. He picked Lina up, held her the same way Grindel hung, and examined her. "What's a doll like you doing in the woods after midnight?"

He poked her.
Lina casually replied, with a smirk on her face: "I'm a hunter."

"Ah, little hunter sets a trap in the woods and accidentally catches an orc. Look at you. You couldn't even catch a bunny." The other orcs snickered. "Actually," she spoke, "I was looking for an orc. Looks like I've hit the jackpot." In just a few short seconds, she was on the ground, stained with orc blood. Their leader fell on his back and clutched his thumbless hand in pain, roaring.

"Grab her! "

×××××

Trees shuffle and birds scatter from the forest deep. A group of men sit on a small hill a short but safe distance away. Five of them sit around a lamp on a tree stump and one sits alone, facing the forest. He flinches upon seeing the signs of major sudden movement and looks at the other men. "Is no-one going to look for her?" he asks in panic. One of the men scoffs and says something to the others in a foreign language, making them laugh.

"English please!" said the frightened man. He was on his feet now.

"She'll be fine," replied one of the five, observing his silver knife in the glow of the lamp. The short man irked him and the rest of the men. Why couldn't he just shut up and wait. They knew what they were doing.

The hour passed slowly and it was soon 1am. The short man was asleep with his back toward the fire while the others stayed wide awake. Waiting but not worried. Lina could handle it. Conversation had died over the hours but not alertness.

Thump. The sleeping man's eyes opened and screamed at the sight of the orc head that had landed in front of him. His hood almost caught fire and that made the men laugh. Lina rolled her eyes and addressed her team. "You guys follow me, and you-" she points at the sixth man, "-tell them the job is done."