The Warrior of Avelyn

ⅩⅩⅩⅠ

Clara coughed once.

Hazel's head snapped up instantly at the sound; seeing her rub her throat with a slight grimace on her face.

"You're sick!"

Clara's head turned towards her friend, her eyes wide. She hadn't noticed that she was in the room with her.

"I just had something caught in my throat!"

"No, no!" She walked closer to her. "You had that grimace on your face; your throat hurts doesn't it?"

"What? No!" The crack in her voice betrayed her lie.

"Clara, you've caught a cold." Hazel crossed her arms. "Will it kill you to admit you're sick?"

"I'm not sick!" She tried to laugh it off, but the burn in her throat was getting harder to ignore. "I feel fine, don't worry, Zee."

"Fine." Hazel sighed and rolled her eyes. "But if I see you getting worse, you have to rest up."

"Yeah, okay." She nodded with no intention of following through her orders. Hazel knew it and shook her head before she left to get back to work.

As soon as she heard the door open; Hazel's startled screams filled her ears. In an instant, Clara was beside her, studying her pale face as she had backed into the now closed door.

"What's wrong?" She asked, putting her hands on her shoulders.

"There's a mob coming this way." Hazel shook with fear of what she'd seen. "They look angry, Clara."

"Get out the back door and run away, before they surround our home."

"But Clara-"

"Go, now!"

Hesitantly, Hazel nodded and left. Clara followed after and watched her leave, making sure she got away safely. Once she was certain she was out of any potential harm's way, Clara made her way back to the front of her house. 

She could hear them yelling in anger. Their words were entangled with each other's as no two were saying the same phrase. However, she could make out how they were all here to protest her being general.

Opening the door, she was met with a large mob of men marching towards her with furious expressions. She clenched her jaw and looked straight at them, her stance not faltering. She walked towards them with heavy steps, her steel eyes staring the men down; momentarily silencing them.

The uproar grew once she reached them and they surrounded her in a small circle. Her breath got caught in her throat at the small space she had. Her head began throbbing with pain at the sound of their yelling.

Her circle of space only got smaller and before she knew it, the men gripped her arms harshly. She fought off their grips, freeing her arms and sending them furious glares.

"Don't touch me." She warned them.

Her words fell on deaf ears as they started to push and pull her around as they walked away, making sure to put her in the front as they collectively kept ahold of her.

Recognizing all those faces made it harder for her to fight back. She couldn't hurt them. She didn't want to.

Clara struggled in their arms, not knowing what to do. She watched with a deepening frown as more and more people joined the march, yelling and screaming about how she wasn't good enough to be their general.

She recognized their trail as the way to the castle. Their ruckus caused most guards and many knights to come see what it was all about. Their protocol was to disband any angry mobs and so they pulled out their spears and swords, walking closer to the people.