“You’ll be safe, little one,” she whispers.
Digging her feet in the gravelly dirt, the woman storms forward. After only three steps, she jolts to a stop. The Murkovin in front of her springs in her direction, but he’s slow and clumsy as he charges across the rocky ground. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, the woman slips both of her hands to the end of her spear.
From behind her, the crunch of feet on gravel is only a few feet away. Swinging her spear low to the ground, the woman twists to her rear. The steel smashes into the ankles of the beast, sweeping the creature’s feet out from underneath it. A loud female grunt gasps from the body when the Murkovin’s back pounds to the ground.
With the end of her spear still in the grasp of both hands, the woman catapults her arms over her head. The female Murkovin on the ground frantically tries to roll out of the way. The shaft slams to the creature’s forehead, leaving her stunned on the ground.
As the first Murkovin nears the woman, she snaps her face to him. The brute lunges the tip of his weapon at the woman’s head. Throwing one hand up in front of her, she catches the shaft in her grip. The woman yanks the beast’s spear by her side and pulls the Murkovin towards her. As he pitches forward, she jams her spear straight into his gut.
The man releases his weapon and tries to smack his fists against the sides of the woman’s head. She ducks the blow, feeling the gust from his hands on the back of her neck. Careful to never put her stomach at risk, she hammers her forearm to the Murkovin’s chest. Churning her legs, the woman drives him backwards.
Blood pours from the wound in the Murkovin’s stomach, but his strength doesn’t wane. He finally batters one fist to the woman’s face. Ignoring the sting on her cheek, she spins away and yanks her spear out of his belly.
The Murkovin dives after her. As he tries to clench his arms around her thighs, she twirls out of his grasp. Flailing forward, the brute falls flat on his chest. The woman rivets her weapon into the back of his head.
Ripping her spear out of the man’s skull, the woman leaps to where the female Murkovin still lies dazed on her back. The moment the woman’s feet touch the ground, she plunges her weapon down at the creature. Glaring straight at the female Murkovin’s eyes, the woman suddenly halts her downward jab. The tip barely pierces her forehead before coming to a stop.
Her eyes didn’t look at me as I brought death upon her. Filled with worry, they looked up the hill at our side.
“I beg of you,” the female Murkovin on the ground pleads. “For the sake of my child.”
Keeping the point of her spear pressed to the Murkovin’s head, the woman glances up the hill. Near the top stands a small girl, barely as tall as the woman’s waist. Her frail body is draped in worn, shabby clothes, and unkempt hair hangs around her face. As the woman returns her eyes to the creature at her feet, her thoughts slip to the past.
The woman’s Mür, the name a Murkovin child calls the man who provides the seed for birth, had been killed only morrows before the woman was born. But the female who gave birth to her, her Ovì, had done everything she could to protect her child. She’d not only provided sap for her, but had also taught her the skills to take it from trees. Her Ovì had shown her how to sharpen her teeth with rocks so they’d better rip through the bark of a limb. And her Ovì had trained her to fight with a spear, made certain she knew how to protect herself, how to commit everything inside her to the defense of her own life.
But while still young, having grown only as high as her Ovì’s chest, she had to watch as the woman who gave birth to her was slaughtered by two of their kind. Two treacherous creatures. Two cowards. Vile men who lacked the courage to take sap from a tree themselves. It was easier to stand idly by while others exhausted themselves in a battle with the limbs and then kill them for the sap in their blood.
On that hateful morrow, Darkness fell. Violent clouds roiled over their heads while rainfall spattered on the dirt around them. Her Ovì fought through savage branches to rip a small limb from a trunk. When she returned to where the girl waited safely out of the tree’s reach, the two knelt over the branch. Her Ovì’s lips didn’t touch the bark until she was sure that her child had her fill.
Two men were in hiding nearby, watching as the two females drank. Once the precious liquid flowed through their veins, the beasts attacked.
Her Ovì was still kneeling over the limb when, out of nowhere, a spear split open the back of her neck. When the girl spun to the sound, her eyes widened with terror. A hand slammed to her face, knocking her to the wet dirt. As she tried to scurry away, a muscular brute grabbed her by the hair. He lifted her off the ground and held her face in front of his.
“We’ll deal with you later!” he snarled.
He smacked his fist against her jaw and dropped her to the ground. As she struggled to maintain consciousness, the two creatures knelt over her Ovì with their backs to the girl. They had no clue of the flourishing power inside her slender limbs, or the intense will of her mind.
Dizziness from the blow caused the dark clouds overhead to spin in her eyes, but the girl managed to lift her head from the ground. Through blurry vision,
