“I’ll take care of this,” she grumbles. “You stay here.”
Trying to keep the rage inside her hidden, the woman marches down the side of the hill. From their seats near the tree, the Murkovin watch as the woman approaches, wondering what she’ll do next. The tall Murkovin stays in place on top of the hill behind the woman, but he primes his muscles and readies his spear in case he’s needed.
As the woman walks past the tree, the bulky man’s red eyes flame with fury. He’s not used to being given orders, the woman knows, especially from a female. Standing a few feet away from the brute, the former Traveler shakes with anger. The woman stops directly in front of the beast from the northwest Barrens.
“Do you believe that because you’re a man, you have the right to treat a woman that way?” the woman asks loudly enough for all to hear.
“I’ve learned to take what I want!” the Murkovin growls.
“That’s no longer the way of the Barrens.”
“You don’t decide the way of the Barrens!”
The former Traveler aims her eyes at the woman. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help.”
“I know you can,” the woman says without looking away from the male Murkovin. “I’ve seen her kill someone larger than you,” she says to him. “You’ll have your hands full if you tangle with this one.”
“I fear no one, and no one stands in my way.”
“Does that include me?” the woman asks.
The man glances at the ground behind him where his weapon is propped up on a rock. After returning his eyes to the woman, he assesses her stance, measures the possible strength lurking in her lean frame, and tries to judge the will of her mind. He’s plotting his next move carefully, the woman realizes, and not about to back down. She immediately decides that she needs to make an example of this man.
Every person at the camp has seen her compassion and willingness to provide what she can for others. Her servant has told them of the woman’s benevolence towards her and her child. The Murkovin at camp are well aware that she intends to improve the lives of all who dwell in the Barrens. But now is the time to show them that she’ll always stand up for others. The woman releases her grip on the shaft of her weapon and lets it fall to the ground.
“We don’t need spears,” she says.
The brute points at the top of the hill behind the woman. “What about him?”
“He won’t be involved. I don’t need his help or a weapon to kill the likes of you.”
The veins in the man’s forehead bulge from his skin. She knows how her words must enrage him, the indignation he must feel from being chastised by a woman. His anger, the self-righteous sense of superiority so prevalent in his kind, will be weapons she can use against him.
“What are you waiting for?” the woman taunts. “Are you frightened of a woman?”
He grits his teeth and crouches. Slowly inching towards the woman, he rocks his weight from foot to foot. With her arms limp at her sides, the woman takes several steps backwards. The beast claws at the air between them with one hand, watching to see if she’ll react. Her eyes never leave his as she continues to back away.
The beast finally lunges at the woman and aims a fist at her face. She leans forward, almost as though she’s falling into his blow. No one watching knows for sure what happens next, but they all gasp in response. For the briefest of moments, no more than the beat of a heart, her body flashes into light.
Brilliant horizontal extrusions burst past the man’s side but instantly reshape into her body. Coming out of her split-second blend a few feet behind him, the woman spins towards the man. Before he can stop his forward motion, she hooks one of her legs around his shin and throws her shoulder against his back. As they both fall to the ground, she hurls an arm around his neck and grabs his ear with that hand. After slapping her other hand to the front of his face, she drives a fingertip into his eye.
They slam to the dirt with the beast underneath her. Still clutching his head, the woman pops her knees up to the center of his back. While digging her kneecaps into his spine, she tightens her grip on his skull.
With one sharp twist, the woman snaps the brute’s neck. As she continues to rotate his head, the crackles of tearing cartilage leak from his skin. She doesn’t stop until his face looks straight up at hers.
The Murkovin frantically tries to inhale a breath, but his broken neck and twisted esophagus keep the air from his lungs. Taking perverse pleasure in the sight, the woman watches his eyes bulge from their sockets. After the final beat of his heart finally echoes in his chest, she clasps a handful of his hair. Standing to her feet, the woman lifts the corpse by her side for all to see.
“If you believe the old ways are best for the Barrens,” the woman yells to the group of Murkovin, “you’re free to leave now. No harm will come to you. Return to the area of the Barrens you came from and live out your life.
“But make no mistake. A new Barrens is rising. There’s no place for anyone who tries to take from others by force. Our kind will learn to live in peace the way we’re doing at this camp. Anyone who refuses can live in solitude—or die.”
With a combination of awe and disbelief at what they just witnessed, the men and women sitting on the hillside stare at the woman. One female lifts her spear from the ground and plunges the tip down on a rock by her feet.
