Part II: Troll Rot
She limps towards her prey, pulling a blade as she closes on his body. She is still on guard, but she doesn't see the thing's chest rising or falling. She plunges the slim blade into it's other eye… the yellow orb now staring lifelessly toward the sky. She takes the blade and snicks off it's bat-like ear. She strings it on her necklace and leaves the oldest one on the blackguard's chest.
Only then does she blink hard a few times. Her eyes will not clear. She squints at the gash at her leg. She sits down heavily and looks it over. There is a strange odor to it. She clambers over to his axe and sniffs the blade. There is a thick liquid on the edge. This is not good. The wound will not seal. She tries everything. The drink she buys from the god man in the town. The moss that her people use to staunch wounds. Nothing... the red flows slowly from her and the edges of the wound grey and fester before her eyes.
The beast may kill her yet. She needs help. She rummages through her back and pulls out a small wooden vile. She drinks the thich thick sap carefully. Her heart slows.. the treant sap will slow the poison. She need her pack brothers and sisters. They will know what to do.
It is like moving through a thick fog. Her concious thought slowly slip from her as her body continues. Each step pumps more of her life through the wound. Her instincts take over and she is near invisible as her pixie blood reacts to the danger and forces her body to hide. Day to night. Night to day.
Approaching the crevase that leads to the vale of the Wolves, she is in a walking trance. She does not see the Eastlander heretic until it is almost too late. His back to her, he watches the entrance to her home. He must die if she is to make it to her friend. Automatically she draws an arrow to her bow and lets fly. It pierces his leg in a scream. He spins and her second arrow ricoches off his shield. She throws her bow down as he rushes her. As she pulls her blade he screams out a word and she feels his dark lord crush her remaining strength. But he is distracted in the calling and her blade fits neatly in the center of his throat. They both fall.
Panting... she crawls to the crevase. Up the narrow path to the thich gate in the rock canyon. Darkness fills her eyes. She fumbles and finds the tooth. Slips it into the lock and the door creaks open. She moves without vision or thought. She hears voices, but she does not know them... or maybe... she does. Then nothing.
The two elven men speak in hushed tones. One with anger, the other... soothing.
Too be continued when I get home…