Silver Bound Girl

Chapter 42

            Willow could feel the exact moment the silver left contact with her skin. The familiar warmth and gentle tug as her body rapidly expanded was accompanied by the tickle of thick hair exploding out of her skin and lines of pain as her clothing dug into her. Less than a heartbeat later, the sound of ripping fabric announced the end to that problem.

            Smells strengthened, letting her pick up things like the sweat off Rune and the tang of gunpowder. Willow could hear not just her own heartbeat, but those of Rune’s and the man’s, both speeding up as they stared at her. Her vision sharpened as the colours dulled slightly, every movement, no matter how small, caught by her eyes. For a split-second, Willow felt the peace of returning to her natural form descend.

            But the man’s mouth widening as he inhaled sharply drew her attention. He screamed, his arms swinging wide as he frantically backed away. The sound had barely emerged from his throat when Willow moved. Her fear still burned her stomach with fingers of ice, making her feel like she was going to throw up at any second, but all the training she’d been put through by Andre and Uncle Allistair asserted itself. She zigzagged as she ran forward.

            The loud explosion of the gunshot stung her sensitive ears, but Willow didn’t slow down, even as the harsh burning smell of the bullet’s passage filled her nostrils. The shot was wide and she could see the tremors running through the man’s arm as he tried to lock onto her, his hand jerking all over the place. Grass and dead leaves cushioned each footfall, the crushing releasing their scents to mix with the ones already heavy in her nose.

            Willow was feet from him now, her focus narrowing onto the man. His pale skin, wide eyes, and still screaming lungs painted a clear enough picture of terror, even without the nearly humming sound of his rapid heartbeats that reached her still ringing ears. Willow let a low growl escape from her as she bent over, minimizing the target he had.

            He tried to follow her head’s path with the gun, but Willow turned and snapped an arm out, grabbing the wrist holding the weapon with one massive hand and pulling it upwards so the gun was pointed towards the sky. She squeezed and twisted it, until the pistol fell from his fingers as he cried out in pain.

            She didn’t release him, instead folding her free hand into a tight fist. Swinging it forward with her considerable mass and muscles behind it, she only let go of his wrist right before her blow connected with his stomach. His feet left the ground as he skidded backwards across the grass and dirt path, to land relatively softly onto a few of his carefully cultivated marijuana plants.

            Breathing still heavy to her own ears, Willow raced after him. She’d only seen the one gun but that didn’t mean he didn’t have more hidden. She might be a sasquatch but that wouldn’t protect her from a bullet. She couldn’t relax until she had him neutralized, for both her and Rune’s safety. The weight of both their lives lay on her shoulders, adding more worry to the sum of her fears.

            Already he was struggling to his feet, scrambling backward as he fought to get upright. Willow didn’t let him. He screamed again as she launched herself at him, her shoulder catching his chest as she shoved him back into the plants. They went down in a tangle of limbs with her on top.

            He punched at her frantically, the blows wild and powered by fear and desperation. In her sasquatch form, Willow topped him height-wise and weight-wise, leaving the man trapped beneath her body. She ignored the pain from the strikes, her hair acting as a partial cushion that minimized them. She heaved herself up on one hand, bringing her free one back towards her ear in a fist, even as the man tried slamming his knee into her stomach.

            But Willow had her whole body tensed, the muscles hard with the tension that filled her. She inhaled, eyes locked onto her target, moving with his struggles so he couldn’t buck her off. On her exhale, she struck, fist slamming into the man’s chin. His head snapped to one side, the clatter of his teeth against themselves audible to her.

            His body slackened and stopped fighting her, but his eyes remained open. Willow could see the slow, dazed blinks, and brought her fist back again. Part of her worried that she might cause permanent damage to him, but the rest of her was more concerned with her own survival and that of Rune.

            Again, she struck him his chin, and again, his head jerked under the blow. This time, his eyes rolled up as he shuddered, going still. Willow froze for a moment, listening intently. She could hear the slowing beat of his heart and his breath rushing in and out of his lungs. A rusty scent rose from him, making her frown even as she felt relief that he was still alive. She knew the smell of blood very well, especially in this form.

            Willow pried his mouth open carefully, finding his tongue slashed open by his teeth from her second blow. She slid off him before turning his body so he was on his side. The last thing she wanted was him to drown in his own blood. She didn’t want to become a murderer, even if it was self-defence.

            She stood slowly, only now feeling each painful bruise and stinging scratch. She realized that she was panting. Willow clenched and unclenched her hands a few times, trying to slow her breathing and heartbeat. She didn’t need to worry any more, the man was down, they were finally safe.

            The last thought reminded her of something that sent her heart into warp speed again as she abandoned any attempt at calming herself. Turning slowly, Willow looked at Rune. He stared at with wide eyes and a still pale face, his mouth gaping wide.