From the Ashes

30

"'The archer is the true
Weapon
The bow is just a long piece of wood'"

- Sebastien De Castell

_____

"Where are they!"

"I told you," the soldier cried out, as the collar of his shirt was pulled forward,"they're all dead!"

"Liar," Lovota hissed, twirling a knife between her fingers, before plunging it into the side of his throat.

Blood gushed from the wound, dying her fingertips red. His hand limply grabbed hers in an attempt to save whatever few seconds of his life he has left.

Sneering at the soldier, Lovota ripped her dagger from his throat, making the individual fall lifeless to the floor.

Putting her fingers beside their neck, she felt a fair heartbeat slowly fluttering away to nothingness. Flipping the blade, she smeared the blood off of the knife onto their sleeve.

"Taim emo laik stedaunon, den ai don ingen grunn gon yu kom bo."

Standing up, Lovota continued on her way down the hall. An arrow now in her grasp, her bow stretched out infront of her, as she listened to the sound of voices catching off the walls.

She could hear the machinery of this place whistling, stepping over two bodies, she shoved open a door and peaked through the crack. It must've been an engine room.

Stepping further in, she softly closed the door behind her, quieting her breathes and sharpening her footsteps. This place was slightly hollow, therefore, any sound would be a beacon of her existence.

The room was a light tan, overhead ran artificial lighting flickering above. The light was so intense, her hands almost twitched to turn the lights off.

Swinging herself around a bar, she planted her feet silently on the bridge. The string of Lovotas bow, stinging her arms skin, as it dug into her flesh.

That was, suddenly, when an alarm started blaring.

Looking through the gaps of the wire infront of her, she watched as the man she was with before ran down the long stretch, weaving between hallways.

Two men were running after him, suddenly splitting up in their chase to better their odds of capturing him.

Now, Lovota thought, a game of cat and mouse.

Wringing an arrow to her bow, she felt the wire tear that callouses on her fingertips. Bloody droplets from the soldier before made the task slightly harder than it had to be.

Feeling the pull of her bow, she wrenched her arm back so that the feather aligned with her vision. It wasn't the most practical shooting style, but it was effective if done right.

Watching Bellamy fold himself up against a wall, the girl held back an exasperated sigh. It was truly disappointing to see someone as good looking as him, be so very stupid in his hiding choices.

One of the soldiers from before gradually made his way around the corner, and before Bellamy could react, the man fell to the floor in agony.