He didn't even charge me. Instead, we were locked again in a stalemate. No words were passed, and I quickly ran through my options.
I could charge him. Stupid, because he's nearly double my size and most probably triple me in brute strength. He could easily reverse my momentum and throw me down.
I could wait. Foolish and embarrassing, because he wouldn't even bother to come towards me. He'd most likely make another snide remark, and bid me to "come along". I think most definitely not.
I could turn and run. Risky. He still stood in the path of home, and I don't know the wood so well beyond here. In fact, I'd already broached into unknown territory, here, in this clearing where I'd inadvertently found the trap. I could run to the side, and take a wide circle around him and back towards home. This, however, would be a pure contest of speed. Here comes the risk. He is bigger than me, which is a factor that may slow him down, but I've known many warriors who beat that factor. Many were even faster than me, and I was never, ever, called slow. But, if I could, actually, navigate more nimbly and quickly than he, and I was able to reach my top speed, there is a possibility. It's slight, but it's there.
The hunter/warrior/bastard was smirking at me now, waiting leisurely for my move. I would throw my short dagger- the one I gripped so tightly now- at him, and hope it hit its mark well and true, then break for it. I'd pull my long dagger from its sheath on my back as I ran. I wouldn't go too widely around him, but just enough, depending on how well my weapon hit its mark.
Deep breath. Calm the nerves. My muscles are no good to me if they're shaking.
Another breath. Review the plan. Take careful mental aim. Be sure not to reveal anything.
1...
2...
GO!
I regretted my plan almost immediately. My dagger only lodged in his forearm, and I stuttered when he bellowed in pain. That's a millisecond I've lost towards my cause. I yanked my long dagger out as I began running. To the right- faster, faster- FASTER! I glanced back as slightly as possible. Unbelievable! He was practically breathing down my neck! I'd have to sprint the entire way home with him on my heels!
I pushed myself ahead just a little harder, just so I'd have enough room to turn without him grabbing me. I rounded in the direction of home, and I heard my running buddy snarl. Oh. My. Gods. He was even closer than before! Impossible! But clearly, it was possible, because I felt his fingers brush my bare hip. He was already reaching for me. I put every ounce of my will and power into running. I had hot tears streaming down my face, blurring my vision. I could probably have crashed into anything in this state- running at top speed without being able to see! My chaser growled when his fingers curled without me in them, and that was all the encouragement I needed to press on.
This high-speed pursuit felt like it was lasting for minutes, hours, when in reality, I'd probably only been running for two and a half minutes, tops. And it had taken me more than an hour of wandering to get me out as far as I'd been.
I didn't have time to worry about my endurance, as it turned out, because I felt my pursuer reach again for me. This time, he managed to grab my sheath. I was pulled to a short stop when the strap tightened across my chest. I sprang backward into my attacker because of the force of the stop, where he immediately locked me into a hold. Unfortunately for him, this hold was one of Tor's favorites that he used on me almost regularly when we sparred. I had since discovered the best ways out of this said hold. I used my favorite method on him now. Using his own (heavy) weight against him, I rolled him over my shoulder. He roared on his way to the jungle floor. He gripped my arms as he fell, and pulled me on top of him.
Now, usually I'd blush when put in such a situation with a very handsome stranger, but now was not the time. I immediately threw my right forearm into his jugular, with my left arm assisting, choking him. I braced his arms with my legs, and pushed. I had never been in the position to kill- I'd never needed to, and my father would never have allowed it. Also, I'm slightly kindhearted, unfortunately. But my lovely warrior friend didn't even give me a fair chance to try to kill him. In a blur of limbs and a series of confusing maneuvers, I was under him.
Now, again, normally such a situation would make a virtuous princess like me blush. But, again, I had no need to. My attacker snarled in my face, which was very pleasant, let me tell you. He was definitely dripping blood on me, too- he'd already managed to smear a lot of it on my clothes and skin. But I still tried to struggle against him. Rarely had Tor managed to pull this hold on me. But the few times he had had been airtight. This hold was, in essence, unbreakable. And yet I struggled on. Like a "simpering fool".
"STOP!" he shouted in my face.
I froze, and turned my head so I could glare into his eyes, I knew my face was covered in a mixture of tears and blood (mostly his, not mine), but I wished to try for wild and dangerous, anyway.
All I got was a smirk in return.
"Very good try, idiot," he bit off, "but not nearly good enough. Now, I am going to bind and gag you, since clearly there is no other way, and carry you back to my tribe. Any more trouble, and I shall render you unconscious. Understood?"
That stupid, patronizing, bastard, of all the-
Very un-princess-like language reared its ugly head in my own for a moment. Then I answered him in the coldest tone I could muster:
"I will never cease causing you trouble," I growled.
He chuckled dangerously. He pulled it off much better than I'd ever be able to.
"Little girl," my nostrils flared at his condescending tone, "I will bind you so well, you won't be able to cause anymore trouble until you are voluntarily released. Now be a darling," he teased...evilly (I'm really sick of this patronizing bastard, son of a...), "and hold still," he said, already beginning to bind my ankles tightly with one hand.
I will not make things easy for this odious creature. I will fight him with everything I've got until I'm dead. I hate this man, now, with every ounce of my being.
