The Girl of Ossetia

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Upon the fingers of night, she stood still. Under the frail beams of moonlight, she waited to mechanically move back to camp. After long moments among the high swaying grasses and the chirping of crickets, she turned and began her treck up the hill. 

Feeling still in a daze as she reached the top of the hill, she paused again, exhaling slowly. The wind suddenly kicked up and the crickets stopped chirping, the moon dyed the land silver and the grasses eerily bent and swayed angrily in the gusts, looking like a roiling sea bellow her. She watched it for a moment before a sound captured her attention. 

Still numb from her time-travel, she simply turned her head in the direction of the slight rustling, watching the tall grasses part as something moved through it. Something in her did not go off, did not scream at her that this was danger, but when it did, it was quite obvious. 

A low, rumbling growl rolled out from the pit of a chest belonging to some vile creature Arrana did not particularly like the look of as it prowled into view some yards away from her. It's dark, wolfish body, high shoulders and bristling black fur, gleaming black eyes and blood stained canines froze her. A hairless brand upon it's left shoulder was pink and raw, showing the two swords crossing through a dragon's wirey neck - the symbol of Duager. 

Arrana did not dare let out a breath as she moved cautiously away, ever so slightly. Her emerald eyes steady on the beast, pale body rigid. Another low growl was unleashed as she stepped away, the grass brushing against her thighs with a gentle hiss. 

A million different options and descisions splayed out in her head in a cricket chirp's time, before she  whipped herself down the hill in one violent motion of her legs. She was sprinting down the hill so fast she nearly lost her footing, but could hear the fast four-legger gaining behind her and was determined to not be drug by gleaming canines back to Duager. Down into the pit of the hill where she had moments before been with Nuae, and up the opposite hill. She ran with adrenalin and fear. Upon the brow of the hill she could hear the steady panting of the mutt behind her, and could feel a scream welling up in her throat, but was too breathless to let it out.

With a rapid blink, Nuae drifted sharply to the left upon the black curtains of her eyes, and without hesitation Arrana jerked herself to the left, but the turn had her feet slip in the mossy earth, and the hot breath of the wolf was upon her. As she hit the ground, she let out a shriek, the teeth clamped onto her arm in one hot press and she threw back her head in an agonizing wale. She thrashed as it began to drag her down the hill, feeling the teeth sink deep into her arm, the hot blood running down her fingers. With a jagged breath she slammed her fist hard into the beast's snout, in which it yelped and let go just long enough for her to stumble to her feet and begin her sprint away. 

She winced, biting her tongue as the pain throbbed up and down her arm, numbing her shoulder. Her bare feet slapped against the mossy ground, not willing to look back and see where the wolf was now. Down another hill she went, not sure where the wolf exactly was, but did not slow in her sprint. She clamped her free hand down on the gaping wound upon her left arm, trying to slow the blood. She could feel her breath becoming short, and vision growing tight and black. 

She feebly licked her lips as she stumbled along at a lolling jog, when suddenly she was ripped downwards, but before she could let out a shriek, her mouth was covered with a warm hand. In utter shock, she wriggled, breathing heavily against this palm, trying to focus on who exactly this was. A gentle shhh reassured her, and she stopped her wriggling. 

She could no longer feel her left side, and her head was as light as an eagle's feather. Her body spasmed against the warmth of anothers, but she let her eyes sink into unconsciousness because she no longer wanted to feel.

In this blackness, feeling physically was nonexistent. Emotions were present, but distant, and it was just the simple and delightful feeling of being able to feel your body repairing in a deep, undisturbed sleep. The feeling of complete rest - not death, but just inches from it. Arrana could tell she liked it, the way her soul lingered and drifted around, studying her wounds, and when pin-pointed, it slowly sank into the holes and connected sinew, dried blood, joined muscle. All with a distant whisper, which hummed softly, yet strongly in the deepest turns of her ears.

Her eyes gently opened to soft, filtered light. Slowly, her body tingled to it's senses from it's deep rest, and she twitched her fingers, wiggled her toes - all to working order. Very creakily, she leaned upward, the rush of blood to her head made her dizzy again, but a quick glance showed her the inside of a small, cozy tent. She raised her left arm, turning her eyes upon it, a confused smile spreading on her lips. The 4 giant holes were now puckered scars that ached slightly. She touched them sheepishly, again mystified by her own power. 

The deerskin curtain-opening was pulled away sluggishly, letting in morning rays, and a shilloutted figure. Arrana's shocked face turned upward torwards the figure, waiting for her eyes to focus on the very handsome, youthful face of a man. His skin was darker, hair long, wavy and brown, eyes kind and deep brown - reminiscent of a horse's. His chest bare, seperated by the string of a bow that was set upon his back. His face crossed in several different emotions, before settling on a smile. 

She felt her cheeks flush pink as he grabbed her hand gently, nodding his head respectfully to her.

"You're awake." He said slowly, his very foreign accent confused her slightly, but intrigued her. She bowed her head to the side, crawling out into the light.

"How long?" She questioned as he helped her to her wobbley feet. 

"2 days. I was afraid you had passed." Horror quaked in her stomach as she thought of how worried her protectors must be, but in the middle of her thought, she looked over the man's shoulder to see them all sitting and standing by a huge fire. She stumbled around the kind man, and all of them looked over at her, smiles of relief spreading across their faces - besides one.

Saelam's stern face was cold, and he moved torwards her, catching her before she collapsed out of her weak state. Arrana stared up at him, their faces incredibly close. He exhaled sharply. She gulped.

"Do you know how dangerous that move was, Arrana?" He whispered crisply, his teeth barred, eyes glinting dangerously. She winced as his grip got slightly firmer. 

"Saelam." Arrana heard Luinil's calm voice call from a distance, and his grip lessened, but the distance between them did not. He looked up and over at the man, letting her go.

"Thank you for saving her, Rocthor." He breathed, nodding his head at the handsome man who had helped Arrana. She turned back, smiling at him as he bowed his head in honor. 

It was now she noticed the large herd of horses grazing beside the few tents in this dusty opening, seeing Gunsynd, sighing in a relieved manor. Rocthor noticed her gaze, and let out a beautiful whistle, which rang and echoed throughout the hills. Gunsynd lifted his head, gray ears pricked forth as he pranced over to the man, who patted his shoulder.

"You have a very special horse here, Arrana. He understands you." He said affectionatley while rubbing the stallion behind his ears. 

"Thank you." She said just above a whisper, walking to the horse, rubbing his head, looking over as a tall, similarly proportioned woman to Rocthor emerged from a tent.

"Now, let us feast, it has been a while- I am sure." The handsome man said to the group, and with his kind words, a fresh wind blew up from the East, bringing the sweetest scent of the Ocean to her.