Against the Wind

14.2 || Amina

The sun at their backs blackened their outlines, highlighting every last oddity: the shimmer of scales, the ivory gleam of horns, the spikes and fur and teeth that stuck out where they shouldn't. Through the pounding in Amina's skull, they meshed into one prickling mass. She couldn't separate one beast's form from another. She could hardly separate the beasts from the semi-humanoid bodies of the Feralites. She could only stare in horror, deafened by the cacophony of screams that broke beneath their howls and cackles.

Panic was a slimy, scrabbling thing. It floundered in her gut, beating behind her gritted teeth, fighting her every effort to squash it down. Hissing in a breath against its drag, she rustled the ashes of the fire in her core and dragged her focus back to the hybrid boy pinned beneath her shaking fist. The coils of wind she'd summoned had long since dissipated, though it didn't matter; he stayed where he was.

She pressed all her weight into her knee, crushing his chest beneath her as she hunkered over him. Her face was a breath from his, their noses almost touching. Her knuckles shoved at his chin without a thought. She delighted in his wheeze, at the way he flinched at her sudden closeness, at the copper shine of fear in his inhuman eyes.

"Is this what you were planning?" she spat. Her voice splintered. Shuddering with frustration, she seized his throat. "You and your leaders? Lyxxira? Kyril?" The names had sharp edges; they cut at her tongue, a forest of blades.

The pale hairs plastered to his forehead retained his wild look even as he frowned. "Kyril," he gasped out. "How do you..." His voice, ragged and indistinct, trailed off into a pained whimper.

"Yes, Kyril!" She shook him with both hands. "Kyril's who told you to come? Where is he?"

He whined, the sound faint and pitiful and devoid of an answer. His eyes were hazy.

The heat in her chest bubbled higher, turned thick and tepid by the persistent thrashing of her heart. Her palms were slick with sweat and struggled for the strength to properly strangle him. She was sure she wanted to, but the fearful scrunch of his expression leeched weight from the desire. Reality dipped away from her, growing pale as mist. Somewhere distant, the sparsely sprinkled dust whispered, a tumultuous tangle of weak, dying songs trampled by the sounds of battle that had flooded the arena and now pooled around her as if she were an island, one that was sinking, cold waves chipping at her limbs and tearing her in every conceivable direction.

Familiar laughter teased at her ears and drew her back into herself. Much too slowly, she lifted her head.

An aqua blur shot towards her, tittering like the scraping clang of bells, and crashed into her shoulder. Claws tore at her cloak and sent her sprawling. The clasp cut into her throat and abruptly severed the air from her lungs. Kicking and grabbing at the sand until she came to a stop, she fumbled for the clasp until it fell away and she could gasp in a panicked mouthful of air. Flipping onto her back, she flung an arm over her face, only just shielding her nose and eyes from the claws that slashed at them.

Numbness soaked her. A tinny whine overtook all other sound; when it faded, the pain gushed in, horribly sharp. Amina choked on her scream. These gashes tore open her wounds anew and dug twice as deep, raking the bone in her arm. Dizzy, she gulped for air, bile burning the back of her throat.

A spindly hand coiled around her wrist and twisted it sharply, yanking the useless limb aside. Without it there to shield her, her attacker's face loomed close to hers with ease, rancid breath curling into her nostrils.

Fluffy hair as blue as ice framed a familiar ashen face. Fangs jutted over the Feralite's gleeful smirk. "Hello, human pup," she purred.

Feathers tickled Amina's arms, trailing such soft, shivering touches that every nerve cringed and cowered at the sensation. The creature's scent and closeness wrenched tears to her eyes. She took small, quick breaths, chest ready to burst, tongue curled tight as she desperately swallowed any pitiful sound. She could not show her fear, though it was everywhere. It dipped the noise in her ears and pounded on her skull. Fear was sponge, oozing ice and filth, and she was sinking.