Rain.
Burning.
Lightning.
A horse with eight legs.
Horns bellowed in the distance. Shadows slithered past. Hounds howled and horse hooves charged, passing through marble and stone easier than any spirit. Blurring blackness swallowed all of it, dyed it the color of hallowed caves. A figure in leather armor stopped at my slumped form, my outer shell hooked around a mossy leg. A face. Herface flickered as though she moved between trees, and I squinted to make out her triangular features, her willowy form, muscle carved from years of training that did her no good.
Rasping breath and jaw askew, my mouth would not form the sounds of her name. Two syllables I'd spoken all my life left me in throaty whispers not even the dead could hear.
A soft breeze made of moisture caressed my head.
Take me with you.
"Hana!" On the edge of an abyss, a broken voice reached for me. A calloused hand pressed against my forehead. The aroma of wood-fire filled my lungs. If an oath had heat, it was my name on his breath. "Hana—what—hell—to you?" I had sunk into the question as if it were strong arms wrapping around me, carrying me. "You're well now, Hana." My fingers twisted in linen, yanked it to my chin. "No." Hot and wet, something pressed into my palm. "You're going to live." The ache in my neck withered. The nausea with it.
Vomit.
Pain like thousands of pins through my hand, through my kneecap.
Thick rain drip, drip, dripping.
Sloshing.
YOU ARE READING
All's Fair in Revenge
FantasyComplete! Hana is the daughter of a renowned healer in the raiding village of Srisset but she would much rather stab someone than mend them, she'd rather fight on the front line than stand behind it, and she'd much rather gut the Dorsi soldier who k...
