Force of Nature

Chapter 4

The gates to Zone 2 shut loudly behind them, as the Zone 2 raider, Chief, and transfer re-entered the camp. Chief O'Hanlon and his entourage had already departed, heading back towards their own lands in the West, leaving the little 'princeling' with them. Whirling around to face Thomas O'Hanlon, Maisri immediately paused. Tousled black hair, sharp jawline, and eyes as green as the brightest emeralds met her. To her disappointment, Thomas O'Hanlon wasn't ugly. His appealing facial features combined with broad shoulders and a tall, muscled torso... Maisri was struggling to recall a better-looking man.

And then he spoke.

"Finished? If not, I definitely wouldn't mind giving you a picture princess." It took Maisri a moment to register he had spoken. His voice and accent were unquestionably alluring and knocked her off guard. It was as soft as velvet and as melodic as a lullaby, it was a voice that could be listened to all day.

Then the words registered in her mind and she was instantly snapped out of her fawning. After that, all the momentary lust vanished.

Furrowing her brows, Maisri glared icily at him. "Póg mo thóin O'Hanlon."

Thomas smirked. "I will if you let me?"

Despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "Not even in your dreams." Without waiting for his response, she turned and began to climb the rope to the tree-top village. Throwing a casual look over her shoulder, Maisri was irritated to find Thomas still standing there with a confused look plastered on his face. "Are you coming or not?" she shouted down to him in annoyance. This seemed to shake the transfer into life, as he grabbed the bottom of the rope ladder and began to clamber up behind her.

Once at the top, Maisri didn't wait for him before beginning to meander through the maze of bridges and walkways.

"Hey! Princess, wait up!"

Her teeth clenched tight at the nickname, but she didn't respond. She simply rolled her eyes and picked up her pace. After a few moments she heard him breathing hard behind her. "And I thought people from Zone 2 were supposed to be friendly and courteous."

Maisri stopped abruptly forcing the man behind her to clumsily crash into her. She turned to glare at him. "You do not mock this zone, or the people in it." Taking in his red cheeks and dishevelled appearance, Maisri snorted. "You are out of shape."

Indignantly, he raised his chin, and straightened. "Sorry?"

"You should be." He looked shocked, but she didn't wait for his response. "We will need to work on that. We can't have weak links. Every person here works hard and is proud to add to the Zone in one way or another. If this is to become your home, you will have to grasp this concept fast. How are your fighting skills?"

His shocked expression was replaced with an arrogant smile. "They are pretty good."

Immediately, Maisri reached out a hand and grabbed Thomas's forearm, twisting it in a way that forced his body into a submissive position before knocking his feet out from under him. He crashed to floor of the wooden bridge. It swayed gently from the displaced weight. Due to years of wondering and navigating these bridges, in all types of weather and seasons, Maisri McDonald had developed an enhanced sense of balance and agility. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Thomas O'Hanlon. As the bridge swayed, he gripped the ropes for dear life, the force turning his knuckles white.

Maisri stood, staring down at him, one eyebrow raised. "Your fighting skills will also need work." She turned her back, and continued in the same direction as before, looking over her shoulder and issuing a "come on."