Collection of One-Shots

》witching hour

"We will not tarry for those that are doomed already." Those had been the words spoken after the monk had carelessly tried to intervene in village affairs as they prepared to prosecute an accused witch. And so the company did not stop for meaningless follies or to give those that were suffering a quick death.

The morning came swift and so did the attack. Osmund stumbled backward, the monk was defenseless against the thieves until one fell at his feet, an arrow in his assailant's back. He thanked God but quickly came to realize that the company had no archer and so his gaze was drawn toward the trees where a small figure was perched, bow in hand. She nocked another arrow and released, this one punctured through a man's neck. Dropping from her place in the trees, she pulled out a small dagger and slashed another of the bandits across the back, opening the flesh from hip to shoulder.

But she had not been quick enough to dodge a blow aimed at her leg. The sword edge ripped through her skin and she fell, clambering to draw back her bow. She released the arrow before the man could bring his sword down upon her.

"Ulric," Wolfstan looked down at the woman, blood was seeping from between her fingers as she pressed down on upon her thigh, but she tried her damnedest to scoot backward as they company gathered round.

"It can't be," the man breathed as he stepped forward. The familiar name was but a whisper on his tongue, "Eve." Her brows furrowed and his clouded memories faded. Ulric knelt. "Can you walk?" He asked. She shook her head, afraid that if she opened her mouth it would release the cries of pain that she fought to stifle by biting down on her tongue.

"Boy!" The monk came shuffling forward, his own hand covering a bloody wound, "Give me your rope." Osmund shuffled to unknot the rope belt from his robes. Despite the battle-hardened features and near harsh stare, his actions were not ungentle as he slipped the rope above the laceration and tied it off so that the bleeding was slowed.

The woman nodded her thanks and gave a hoarse, "thank you." She expected them to leave her then but instead, they took turns bearing her weight, unable to leave her behind. It was Ulric's turn to bear her weight once more and now she was either asleep or unconscious, none of them were sure of which it was.

The monk scurried up to the leader's side, curious. "Who was she? The woman you spoke of?" It had been clear that whoever it was had once been important to the knight. There was a distant look in his grey eyes that spoke of pain and suffering. "Eve," Ulric muttered, "She was my wife." Nothing more was said on the matter.

She woke to a numbness in her leg, it was familiar and frightening. The wooden roof and earthen floor were familiar too. "Where am I?" It was a question spoke to no one in particular but there was a figure looming over her now, he had foregone armor and his eyes were almost kind. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Ulric," he responded. She sat up in the small bed and looked over the thin shift that had replaced her tattered trousers and tunic. "I'm Seraphina," she said in return.

He took leave of the room when the leader of the village entered, claiming the need to switch out the bindings again. "You have returned sister," Langiva sneered, pulling the bandage tighter than need be for a moment, just to see the flash of pain form in her sister's eyes. "You will join us for the feast?" It was spoken as a question, but Seraphina knew that it was more like a command.

The dress was blue, her sister's a deep burgundy that mimicked the shade of fresh blood. Langiva washed and combed Seraphina's hair, twining flowers, and herbs through the dark braids. With a crutch beneath her arm, she entered the banquet hall and took a seat closer to the company of soldiers than her own people.

Seraphina watched her sister's pleased expression as some of the men took a third and fourth cup of ale, that was when she reached over and placed her palm over the wooden cup that the knight had lifted to his lips, understanding now that it was tainted. "Ulric, drink no more." He glanced at the woman and back into the amber liquid but sat the cup down. "Come with me."