Firstborn

Chapter 11 - 'Thought Talk'

A/N  Hey I've kept my promise. Can't wait to hear from you. 

Chapter 11

She crossed her arms across and held herself tightly with her head down and knees up touching her forehead as her lower back rested on the wooden door.

For or the first time ever, I'm really scared. But the irony is there's no one here for me. This makes me even more scared.

I'm here.

Una's head popped up and frantically looked around. That wasn't her inner voice... that was Avi. But he wasn't in the room. Her room was still blacked out and bolted.

"Avi?" Una whispered.

No reply.

Then she spoke in her mind, Avi, are you here?

Not bodily, after a little pause, I'm in my room but I can hear your thoughts.

Not my spoken voice?

I can but you are faint.

That's because I was whispering.

That explains it.

How are you doing this?

I don't know, but I've been listening to you for two weeks and hoping you could hear mine.

For two weeks! Una was awash with guilt, his guilt.

YES. Avi was guilty and uncomfortable. She was picking his feelings as well as his thoughts. Una blushed when she considered all the times she thought of him over the last weeks.

Have you read all my thoughts?

A long pause followed and then, No, just the intense ones.

Una felt even worse.

In my defence I tried to share mine equally. I tried to send messages to you. This is the first time you have heard me...

Avi halted mid-sentence.

She felt a large ripple in the surrounding air

I felt it too Una. I think somebody is trying to listen to us. The vibrations are coming from near you.

The tribesmen?

No the intruder has just arrived.

Una shuffled to the window, pulled the curtain and gasped – gasped at what? There was nothing there. In her head before she drew the curtain she imagined a wolf's face pressed against the glass window behind the grill, it had stared directly at her and then creased its face in a smile as if to say – Gotcha!

Although there was nothing against the window, fifteen ropes lassoed the spikes on the walls on the side of the property and fifteen male youths clambered down them. Una grimaced. In unison they approached the tribesmen whose faces dissolved in outrage and anger. Their feet remained stationary but the spear hammering to the side of them began again – in a less ceremonial and more combative manner.

Feral eyed, the youths returned stare for stare. They exuded confidence and controlled discipline. Una had narrowly escaped street gangs on a couple of occasions when she explored the back of Victorian warehouses looming over the dark canals, but they looked tame in comparisons to the fifteen individuals in combat clothing. These boys were more organised and looked like militia recruits. Strangely though, both groups "facing- off" each other had similar abstract tattoos on their faces.