The Whisper of the Nightingale

Chapter 81: Lone Executioner

"You should leave."

That's what his sister had told him as she pulled the sword that their father had given her out of Dunlin and plunged it into the ground in front of Jack. The latter had stopped seizing for the moment, and had instead been staring absentmindedly at the Sky knows what.

Raven's manner of speaking had been guarded and distant, and at first Hoatzin had wanted to stay, desperate to close the gap he could feel his sister putting up between them. He considered what he should say but as he started to voice his opinion, Raven cut him of.

"I know, brother. . . . Leave for now, okay?" she said as she looked up at him with an oddly warm smile which didn't really reach her eyes.

Hoatzin was stumped. Raven's voice was neither mad nor sad, or even pleading - she might as well have been asking him what time it was.

Unemotional.

The two siblings stared at each other for a few moments before Hoatzin eventually did as he was told, his red wings shaking slightly as he took to the air and headed down into ravine Raven had come out from.

Left alone with the two boys, Raven's mouth twitched slightly, an unreadable expression on her face.

'I've scared you enough, brother mine,' she thought to herself before turning her attention to Dunlin who lay, bleeding, behind her. She ignored Jack completely; even though Raven had reined in her killing intent, the boy was too far gone to be a threat to anyone any time soon. 'I might as well vent some of it on this one, while I'm at it.'

A devilish grin adorned Raven's beautiful face and, with a flash, a handful of different silvery tools appeared in her left hand. She crouched down in front of Dunlin and used her free right hand to grab a hold of the latter's chin. Two terrified and pained eyes met hers, causing her grin to turn even more devilish.

"You know," said Raven absentmindedly as she fiddled a long silver needle in one hand and moved Dunlin's head left and right with the other, as if examining something. "I read this amazing article once upon a time about a taxidermist wh-. . ." Raven paused and tilted her head to the side. "Oh, that's right, there is no such thing here. . . . Well, a taxidermist is a person who takes the fur and skin of dead animals and then props them up with wood, wool and wire to make a lifelike statue of the real thing. These stuffed creatures can then be used to decorate homes and the like - neat, huh?"

Raven didn't bother to wait for an answer as she continued examining Dunlin's paling face. "Anyway, there was this one taxidermist who made it his life work to make extremely life-like human dolls, using real human skin. Most importantly, he was really adamant about the fact that his victims had to see the finished product before they passed away. Now, simply flaying someone without killing them right away isn't that complicated - it's all a question about speed - but if you want to use the skin for a doll. . . ."

With admiration in her eyes Raven let go of Dunlin's face and leaned back - as if daydreaming of past times - but then suddenly she sighed, looking a bit dejected. "I've tried to replicate his methods a couple of times in the past but every single time the person ended up dying on me before I got the doll done!"

Had anybody, who still had their wits about them, heard Raven's monologue they might have taken her words for an outright lie - how could a preteen girl possibly have experimented with such horrendous acts? - but Dunlin believed her; heart, body and soul, he believed her!

"P-Please. . . ," he tried, pleading, but Raven ignored him.

"Fortunately," she chimed instead, smiling sweetly; "I've recently learned that a combination of torture and Divine Healing Skills produce quite favorable effects - I'm quite confident I'll succeed this time."