Rune Stealer

Threats

"Whoa Zyn," gasped Jhestan as he stared at the buck wide-eyed. "I was expecting a rabbit or two, not a whole feast."

Zyn shook his head as the large creature slid off of him and hit the ground with a loud thud. Jhestan's eyes flicked to me and his brow furrowed.

"Her?" exclaimed Jhestan, grasping his belly as a loud deep laugh rumbled from his chest. And suddenly all the attention was on me once again.

"The girl took down that buck?" asked Toril, his brow furrowing. I narrowed my eyes at the boy defiantly.

"Is that true, Zyn?" Brynley chimed in his eyes moving back and forth between the enormous animal and my small, feeble frame. These men are so dense.

Zyn grunted as he nodded his head up and down. "It was impressive."

"Oh I'm sure it was impressive," chuckled Toril, punching Brynley in the arm. "Let me guess the buck took one look at you girly and thought you were a ghost."

"You scared it to death," howled Brynley, clutching his stomach as he laughed. My fists clenched and heat grew in my chest. I forced myself to breath and stay calm.

Jhestan came up behind the boys and clapped them on the shoulders. "Now come on boys give the girl a break." His silver eyes met mine; they were as sharp and cold as daggers. "It was her immense intimidation," he remarked sarcastically, "the buck probably keeled over from laughter." The boys roared in laughter. Red. All I saw was red.

Laika, warned Story; her voice dripping with concern.

Brynley broke from the group and walked around the buck towards me. "Oh calm down girly," he laughed, his dark eyes sparkling. "We're only just playing. I'm sure you took down that buck swift and smooth with one punch to the nose and a kick to the nards." He clapped me on the shoulder mockingly. "Good job goldy."

I growled and my fingers flew and gripped Brynley's neck viciously. In the same moment, a blade pressed into the soft skin of my throat. My hair whipped onto my face and fell back into place just as I felt Toril's hot breath on the back of my neck. Brynley choked.

The forest was still. The only sound was Brynley's limited breathing. He clawed at my hand as he broke out into a sweat and his blood shot eyes bugged out of his head.

"Laika," I growled, glaring into Brynley's pathetic, pleading eyes. "My name is Laika."

The blade's pressure increased and I threw Brynley back. The large man stumbled back, trying to catch himself, but ended up tumbling into the dirt as he gasped for breath. I smiled when I noticed white lines that my fingers left on his dark skin.

Toril whipped back his sword, but purposefully sliced the skin behind my ear. Barely, but enough to be a threat.

"Don't try anything funny again," warned the short pathetic man. He reminded me of a small dog that barked at large dogs; all bark, no bite. "Know your place girl," he spat.

I'll show you my place, I though angrily as I slipped into his mind.

Laika stop! Story screamed, but her voice was merely a whisper in the back of my mind.

I clenched Toril's mind tight as if I was squeezing an orange until it broke and its juice leaked from between my fingers.

Toril yelped and I let go.

"What did you just do?" yelled Toril angrily at me. I looked at him with exaggerate confusion.

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked mockingly in a soft, innocent voice. "I'm just a girl." My innocent voice turned dark and my eyes narrowed. "I can't do much harm."

"You crazy bi-" Toril went to charge me, but Brynley, still touching his neck gingerly, grasped his elbow and shook his head at Toril.

The corner of my mouth lifted. I met Zyn's ice like eyes and I might have imagined it, but I thought I saw Zyn's mouth twitch up in what might have been a smile.

Laika! My gaze whipped to Story. Her eyes were wide with what was probably horror. Stop, she pleaded. You said you would behave.

"I am behaving," I growled at her. "No one's dead yet." I heard Toril scoff, but I ignored him.

You know what I mean, chastised Story.

I sighed and shook my head. I began walking towards the group of boys. They tensed and I felt something familiar taint their souls: fear. I kept walking, pushing past them. I pulled out my knife as I knelt to the ground and began preparing the buck to be eaten.

***

You're so stupid, growled Story as I plopped down in front of her; a piece of cooked deer meat in my hand.

You're just angry 'cause I hurt your precious Brynley, I mumbled.

Am not, screeched Story.

"Sure," I said, dragging out the word. I took a bite of the meat and sighed. I loved deer. It was my favorite and I killed it often when I was on my own. But I usually ate only a little then buddle up the rest and sold the rest at a nearby village; couldn't carry raw meat around with you.

I chewed while Story stood their silently for a bit. Okay maybe a little, she finally admitted, but that's beside the point.

Then what is the point, I asked, twisting to look her in the eye.

The point is you can't just go strangle anyone who calls you a name, lectured Story. I rolled my eyes bitterly and turned back around and watched the boys as they huddled around the fire. Well, all except for Zyn, who leaned against a tree, watching them with me.

The bastards pissed me off, I thought angrily. They also did a lot more than just call me names. It's their fault.

Their fault you can't control your anger?

Yes, I said childishly as I popped my last bit of meat in my mouth. Story scoffed and bent her head down to chew on the plants on the ground, ending our conversation.

I stared at the ground, shifting the dirt with my fingers. Then I felt something in the air; a threat is what my body told me it was. I looked up alert and tense and looked the source.

I searched the edge of the trees, listening. I heard the hoot of an owl, the scratch of forest mice running across the ground, and the wind upsetting the leaves of the bushes and trees, but I couldn't find the "threat". But my heart was still pounding and my palms were starting to sweat. I breathed deeply and zeroed in. Then I found it.

It wasn't in the forest, sitting just behind the line of trees. It wasn't waiting to pounce and attack our camp. It was sitting in our camp, staring right at me. Dark blue eyes seared into mine, daring me to act out or misbehave.

They were warning me, telling me that if I messed up again, it would most likely be my last.