Katharine Wheel

Chapter 1

The cold air whips around my face as I crouch on a tree branch in the shadows.

The evening sun bathes the forest in a red light, turning the tops of the trees into a golden shade. The little of the light which can filter through the dense leaves brightens the surroundings, which are always dark. It is beautiful and ethereal. But all good things have a bad side, and the forest floor with its rotting leaves, rotting bodies and pale creatures is just as ugly as the sun's glow is beautiful.

I wrap my arm around the tree trunk and stand up slowly to watch the last of the sunlight fade to give way to inevitable darkness.

As the last last of the light disappears into the darkness, I reach into my the pocket of my black, tattered jacket and pull out a slightly damp, soft, dark clothe the size of my arm.

The pungent odour of acid invades my nostrils as I tie it securely around my nose and mouth, effectively masking half my face and covering my ears.The tightness of the knot hurts, but I'm more than used to it, so I wait for the pain to subside while reaching into my jacket again.

This time, I pull out two short daggers with long, but thin hilts. The blade is, again wrapped in a soft, black cloth which smells of acid.Holding on to the hilt like my life depends on it, which it does, with the hard ridges digging into my palm, I unwrap the cloth slowly, revealing a sharp, black blade, which glows sinisterly in the last of the sunlight.

The blade is shaped like a diamond, slightly thick on two sides, dangerously sharp on the other two, the perfect machine for impaling anyone if they get close enough.

It is short, but deadly. Just like me.

The inky blackness of night fills the atmosphere and I arm myself with another dagger, identical to the first one. There are multiple daggers, all of them of varying sizes and uses, tucked into my belt. Blades of different sizes are strapped all around my body, and I can feel the cold edge of the weapons everywhere, adding to the bitter cold of the night.

Although it is freezing, I remove my jacket and drape it on the edge of the branch, along with my boots, gloves and huge trousers, then all I'm left with is my tight, full-sleeved body hugging shirt, tight pants and a thick belt, letting the wind have its way with my body temperature in my sheer clothes.

I blow out a deep breath which would have fogged up the air if it hadn't been for my acid-soaked mask.

Once my body adjusts to the freezing temperature, I crouch back down on the branch, tucking my daggers in my belt to free my hands and wrap them around the middle of the tree trunk. My eyes, which are slowly adjusting to the darkness, scan the forest floor as it becomes clearer by the second.

Nothing. There's no movement, not that I expect any, not this early anyway - soon, when it is so dark that even the brightest steel can't glow, there will be plenty of movement, sometimes more than plenty - all I need to do is wait, which is tiresome, but worth it.

Moments later, almost like it is meant for me, I hear a scream, so high pitched and painful that it startles me before it subsides into wails and shrieks until it is nothing, until it is back to the normal, artificial quiet.

But I know better, my trained ears are already pointing the direction of the scream, my body goes from a relaxed state to a coiled spring and I move to the edge of the branch to hang precariously and wait for my prey.

The first one is as pale as any other, but much smaller and definitely much weaker, he looks so easy that I almost consider letting this one have his way with the women he is dragging along with him, the women who has her arms, legs and mouth tied and tears streaking down her face.