Winter DO NOT READ

Chapter Eight - Avira

     "I win again." I stated, leaning back in my chair.

    Groans erupted from the men in the room, their eyes grim with annoyance. The cards which lied before me were tattered and damp, due to their poor usage.

    The impaired men around me stared at the empty spots before them, not quite believing they had lost all their gold. I feel a tad guilty, honestly. Some families are going to be quite hungry for the time being.

    "It's not my fault you're all so thick headed." I muttered, collecting my winnings. My satchel had become heaving from all the gold I've collected throughout the day. Just buy a few rounds of drinks, and nature shall take its course.

    I slowly got to my feet, maneuvering around the tipsy men. My exit was followed by either satisfied cheers or slurred complaints. Sadly, no one seemed quite upset about seeing me go.

      The sky was dark, the only light emitted from the moon. I hurried on down the icy streets, ignoring the calls coming from those who ran the stalls. It's only been a few days, and I'm already fed up with them. I even threatened to slit their throats just so they'd leave me to my lonesome. Yet, that seemed to have done absolutely nothing. Although, they may have seen the uncertainty in my eyes. Maybe I would've done that a few months ago, but now? No way.

    With great ease, I leapt up into the air, attempting to grab hold of a window ledge. All I wanted was to stay clear of those drunken men. I doubt any of them have enough coordination at the moment to scale a building.

    "Aw." I deep voice uttered behind me. "You had to leave so soon? I was just becoming quite fond of you."

    The bellowing voice startled me. My hands missed the ledge, scraping down the icy stone wall. I landed on the hard ground with a loud thud. A small whimper escaped from my throat as I gazed down at my palms.

    Blood trickled down my arms, the palms of my hands terribly skinned. The crimson red slowly blended into the white tunic I wore, drenching the sleeves. Let's hope Keteus doesn't want it back. Believe me, blood can be difficult to wash out.

    "How inelegant of you. You really must watch how much you drink." The stranger guffawed.

    I stumbled to my feet, turning my head to face the man. He wore a royal blue, loose-fitting coat which hung down to his knees. A golden chain dangled from his neck, shimmering in the darkness. The trousers he attained were a tad too short for him, coming up to his mid- thighs. His mousy brown hair was a greasy matted mess, looking as if an animal died inside it. Frankly, I wouldn't have been surprised.

    The man's eyes roamed over me as he licked his lips. "Although, I wouldn't mind if you had a few more glasses." He slowly advanced towards me, taking pleasure in how much I squirmed.

    "I don't want any trouble." I yelped, shying away. My back crashed against the wall behind me. A small sob escaped from my throat. My hands were too injured to climb, which defeated my only reasonable escape route. Unless I were to try and go around this stranger, I was trapped.

    The man tilted his head slightly to the side, stopping once he stood only a short distance away. I could smell his foul breath beating against my face as me mumbled, "Why, I have no intentions of causing any trouble." Spit splattered on my cheek as he spoke, his yellowed teeth gleaming.

    I leaned back against the wall, attempting to get as far away from him as possible. I'm utterly stuck.

    My mind is screaming at me to fight back, to be the person I used to be. The well-known assassin of Geitram. Yet, that's not me anymore. All my confidence and courage had been stripped away from me. What's left is just a fragile shell, which is ever so close to shattering.