Blood of Azura

Part V

Something instinctive told her to obey him in that moment. The look in his dark eyes and the charred tone of his growled command was undoubtedly a warning she must heed.

Of course, she wanted to defy him. Every nerve and muscle and fibre of her being screamed to defy him; to spit in his face or lunge for his throat, to reign down a thousand prayers of vengeance with more force than a thunderstorm, but in the end, she had done none of these things.

If she were to strip away everything else, what had happened before, what might happen now, then perhaps she could find some sliver of gratitude for Galyn's killer.  By his intervention, she had avoided being some momentary plaything for a pack of Zybarian dogs.  But this notion was buried too deep, buried deep beneath layer upon layer of cold unforgiving stone. She could find nothing but rage and hate in her heart as she stared back at the huge leothine stood before her with his hand stretched out.

For strength, she distilled her emotions down into one fine point until it was sharp and crystal clear. Only one thing mattered right now - survival. So she used every ounce of strength she had left in her body to force it to obey him. Obey. Survive. Avenge. She had nothing else left.

Slowly, trembling, she reached up and placed her hand in his. She had to grit her teeth hard to avoid recoiling at the touch of it.

His hand felt large in hers, too large, and too warm. Fara hadn't known they were warm to the touch. Leoth's, she'd been made to believe, were cold like a fish or like wet cave stone - but this one was not. This one was hotter than she'd ever known any human to be, as though the blood coursing under the pale skin might be made of fire itself. Perhaps it was. She'd never seen a Leoth bleed before after all. She looked down at the hand that gripped hers.

As soon as their skin touched he made a low sound in his throat and turned, marching off in the opposite direction from where her felled attackers still spluttered on the sand.  His large legs carried him faster than she could keep apace with, and so she had to run a little each step so as not to fall behind. She feared that if she either stumbled or fell, then he would turn those black eyes on her, or worse, lift her up and carry her.  At least he wasn't taking her towards the woods, she thought with a measure of comfort.

He kept moving forward, away from the Zybar, away from the woods, away from the unclaimed. So large and broad was he, his large body obscured everything in front, including the moon which was perched high and steadfast in the night sky.  The black steel of his swords glinted menacingly in their holsters, caught by the occasional moonbeam from above, the muscles of his wide back contracting and contorting with each huge stride he took forward, defined muscles rippling under pale celestial skin.

As they fell into a communal stride, she thought about the three Zybar lives she had just spared and wondered what in the name of the goddess she had been thinking when she'd done so. She'd wanted them dead only moments before. As the pig had torn at her tunic and pushed against her body she'd prayed silently for mercy, for him to be struck from above by Azura's wrath.  She'd wished for the death of that particular Zybar for almost every second of the march toward the beach. So why hadn't she let the Leoth kill him? Why hadn't she said yes and watched as the Leoth had opened his throat as she'd watched him open Galyn's?  The Leoth himself had wanted to kill him, all of them, she'd seen his monstrous teeth glinting in the darkness ready to rip the Zybar apart. She'd seen his sharp black claws pressed against his throat in readiness.