Her fierceness burns from her, quite replacing the sweetness that’s become when I expect to see. She tightens her hold on the daggers, slipping one into the sheath at her waist. Blood is already visible on her skin from a earlier skirmish. “How many did you kill?” “Just the ones that stood between us,” she replies, a hint of forest green curling through the shimmering gold floating over her skin. “I…” I don’t hear the end of her sentence, throwing a axe underhand at the Jeinate making his way through the scores of dead, to kill him before he hurts her.
Copyright Emily Morris 2020