Blood forged

Chapter 1

Scarlett blinked blearily, fumbling for her alarm. She grumpily whacked the device; the blow was hard enough to quiet more than just a machine. Permanently, I might add. She rolled over, about to resubmerge herself in the folds of her slumber, when she remembered the date. Her eyes snapped open with a gaze clearer than a desert sky, and she pounced out of her bed, all residues of sleep instantly gone. Today was the day she got to see the great beyond for the first time.
  She threw on the clothes that she'd prepared the day before, strapped on her pair of hunting knives, and quickly combed her hair. A second later, she was through the door and soaring down the staircase, her smooth black hair fluttering in her wake.
  She reached the end of the staircase, and flew into the living room, landing without a sound. She glanced down, and noticed with a frown that there were scratch marks on the rug. It appeared that Will needed his claws trimmed, which was unfortunate. He wasn't fond of the process, and the task of persuading him to comply usually fell on her.
  She glanced around, and noticed that her mother was conveniently sitting on a sofa, typing away at her computer. Pleased, she walked up to her mother with a grin. "Hey mom, I'm ready."
  Her mother glanced up, and smiled. "Good morning to you too, sweetheart. I'm doing well, thank you for asking."
  Scarlett winced. "Sorry."
  Her mom laughed. "It's fine. Although I'm afraid you will need a tad of patience; I need to finish this up before we get going." She glanced down at Scarlett's torso with a frown. "I don't think the knives are a good idea, sweety. And you certainly don't need two."
  Scarlett's shoulders drooped slightly. "I know I have to leave my pistol at home; I'm still not of age. But my knives too?"
  Her mother lightly shrugged her shoulders. "I just don't think it's a good idea. Besides, I think your claws and tail are more than enough."
  Scarlett gave a small pout. "I know my tail is bladed, but I can throw my knives. And my claws don't do much more than strike sparks."

  Hm? What did you say? Oh yes, she has claws. And wings, and a bladed tail. Wasn't that part obvious? I did say that she soared down the stairwell, after all. How could she do that without wings, hmm?
  Oh, and she has horns. Did I forget to mention that? It's not a big deal, I'm sure. Plenty of people have horns, you must know a few yourself.
  Wait, you don't?
  For real?
  …
Good grief, you're living in a bubble smaller than Scarlett's. Oh, and her skin is Red. I should probably mention that.
  Now shut up and let me get back to narrating.
  Ahem.

  Her mom shrugged again. "That's just my advice, take it or leave it."
  Scarlett sighed. "Fine, but I'm keeping my flip knife."
  "Deal."
  "Oh, and honey? Don't forget your gloves."
  "Right here." She said, patting her jacket pockets.
  "That's my girl."
  Scarlett strolled up the stairs, looking for something to make the wait a little more endearing.
  She meandered into her younger brother's room, and noticed he was still asleep. Well, can't have that.
  "Hey. Will."
  "Mghrrr." It always surprised her just how guttural he sounded.
  "Drop and give me fifty."
  "Rrrgghheehhh."
  "C'mon."
  "You first." It speaks!
  She grinned; that was easy. She dropped to the floor, did fifty, and was back up within a minute.
  "Your turn."
  Without a word, he rolled off his bed and got to it; he could no more break his word than teleport.
  "At least give me a bit of weight; you're wasting my time." He growled.
  Scarlett reached over to the designated pile, and unceremoniously dumped a twenty kilo bag of sand on his back, then another. The things were heavy, even for her.
  He grunted in thanks and kept on pumping.
  Scarlett grinned. She really did strike gold with this guy.
  After a hundred or so extra pushups, he rolled to his feet, simultaneously flipping the bags onto the pile six feet away.
  He stretched, scratching the hair behind his horns. (See? Horns. I told you they're common.) "What's to eat?"
  Scarlett shrugged. "We have a pantry; help yourself. Oh, and by the way? You need your claws trimmed."
  Will turned around with a light growl. "What? No."
  Silently, Scarlett pointed at the fresh grooves in the floorboards.
  Will sighed. "Fine. But at least let me eat first. I'm starved."
  Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "Where'd you pick up that phrase?"
  "Tv." Will grunted, sticking a furry finger in his earlobe, and, to Scarlett's utter horror, flicked a yellow glob about the size of a chickpea onto the floor.
  Scarlett grimaced. "Mom's gonna have a fit."
  Will, however, continued undeterred down the stairs. With a sigh, Scarlett followed suit.