Chapter 27 - Zyntarr
I understand where I know this male from, now that he has me bloodied and bruised.
It is one of the males that I had punished for calling my wonderful Bea ‘boring’ almost a moon ago now.
My mind had been too crowded with wallowing thoughts of Bea to allow room for any others.
These thoughts slowed me down. I was not quick enough to realize who he is.
I was not quick enough to realize that he lured me out here with lies about needing my help.
And I was certainly not quick enough to realize that the smooth river stone he crouches to pick up is to be used to make my vision turn black.
When the black finally releases me, my skull feels like it has been split by lightning.
My hands are bound together behind my back as I rest against a large tree. My lip is swollen, my injury is without its coverings, and there is a soreness in my wings that makes me think some of my flight feathers have been plucked.
“You wake,” he says, crouching close by, watching me.
His knuckles are reddened. He struck me hard.
I say nothing, but spit blood onto the ground.
There is a life-stone blade in the male’s hand. He casually uses the tip to scratch at his forehead like one little slip would not slice him open. “I have been thinking about our last meeting,” he says, pointing the blade at me now.
“Glad to see I made an impression.”
The male chuckles but it is not a light sound. He stands and starts to pace in front of me. I am trying to loosen the binds at my wrists, but it is not easy and too much movement is risky.
“You wished to have claimed that boring female,” he comments.
I only answer with a snarl, risking a jerk of my shoulder as I try to free my hands.
Coming closer, the male crouches again, this time much, much closer. He presses the tip of his dagger to my chest, making me hold my breath. “But you have no heart-stars,” he states, dragging the blade like he’s tracing the patterns of my scarred skin. “And you never will.”
I clench my jaw.
The male looks at me and smiles as he nods his head. “I think I will participate in one of these exchanges the High Spears are forcing upon us. I can focus my attention on that boring little female. If the Goddesses gift her to me in matehood, I am sure I will find her interesting enough.”
I am about to promise breakings of bones and twistings of wings. I am about to promise to scoop both his seeing eyes out of his head, and feed them to the mountain hounds. I am about to break my own damn arm just to be free of these bonds so I can deliver my promises.
But I am stopped.
I am stopped by a voice that I first think is entirely in my head.
Perhaps that male has already killed me. Perhaps the stone he struck me with has knocked my mind from my head.
Because I swear - I swear - I hear the sweet voice of my little Bea.
“Hello?…. Oh, there you are!”