Heir of the Forgotten

~Past Betrayal~

A small girl sits on a rock, staring ahead of her at the ash-colored ground stretching for miles. She's set to cross the border of the Deadlands to the fresh grasses; she hasn't gone past that line in a few months.

Her heart surges with anger and venom as she cleans her knife, the metal shining brighter after each stroke.

She's been feeling weak again today, a common issue that tends to wrap around her. She has days where the injury just shy of her heart doesn't pulse or hurt, and then there are days where she's feverish and can hardly move.

They've learned that draining the wound helps to prevent those episodes, but nothing can fully stop the havoc that it wreaked upon her.

"..., come here, I need a second pair of hands," she said, her voice leaving a perfect harmony of sounds.

There's no accent or trace of difficulty; just clear, smooth melodies that wound together with the barren wind. She removes her shirt, undoing the bandages around her chest with care.

The boy she'd called out to takes a few steps before scoffing. For a human, she finds him beautiful. He's been growing out his hair lately.

The man uses a red ribbon to tie a small ponytail, keeping his hair away from his face as he slips behind the girl. "What would you do without me, doll?" The boy snickers, messing with the girl's hair. He runs his finger over her pointed ears relishing in the giggle she spares him.

The girl just rolls her eyes as she holds her shirt close. The pain is dull, she's used to it. Her tolerance was built up in the years she's spent her life here. You can't fall to a tiny prick if you plan to survive in the Deadlands.

Her eyes tear up, but she knows it has to be done. The blade just barely peaks through her front. She stares at her blood dripping, black and inky.

She doesn't recall the wound. She can't remember a lot of those years. She knows little about herself so she's glad their master took her in. "Probably be dead by now," she mumbles.

Her heart races as he drapes his arms over her. She starts to wrap the bandages around her chest, but her friend takes it over. He's gentle and careful not to let his hands linger too long. He finishes wrapping her chest and leaves her to change.

The small female child smiles when he's walked off. She slides on a dress and spins.

Today they will cross over the border and leave the last three and half years behind them. All the pain they survived will be a distant memory. They will find a farm and live on it until they have money. Then they will buy a house, and maybe he'll confess, then propose, then they can get married!

She giggles at her own thoughts as she spins in her dress. She ties her hair back, but keeps her ears showing. "Ready to keep going?" The girl calls out.

There is no reply, not as she feels something cold pierced through her side. Her lips part in a gasp as she kicks back. She grabs the closest weapon to her, one of her many knives, in a bag atop the stone. She acts without a thought, her knife aimed for the eye of her attacker.

The boy who stabbed her, luckily missing her vitals, tries to dodge. The knife catches her attacker in the cheek and drags down, tearing his shirt. She's plunged into it as a million thoughts as they plauge her mind.

What is going on? "...?" She calls out the name of her friend as she jumps back holding her side.

"I really am sorry Sel. Really, I am. I don't know what you did besides this run-away plan, but you know I have to do this. I love you, but we can't do this. I can't do this with you. Our benefactor wants you dead." He tries to give her some sort of relief.