The spark didn't last long. In the windy plainy, it wasn't such an easy task as well. Her wet golden hair hung on a side and she had her warm rung over herself. Her clothes were hung over the shrubs. Swearing out loud, she lit another match and this time managed to light the fire.
Dusk was approaching and it would get terribly cold in the valley. She didn't fancy the idea of dying out there with her target so close by.
As the warmth of the fire spread, she brought out the final piece of dried meat and started munching through it, wondering about the day ahead. The strongest fort in the kingdom lie ahead of her. She could refill her supplies from its rich warehouses, and wouldn't have anything to worry about for months together.
But first, she had to infiltrate it. No way the guards would allow a westerner like her to walk into the gates and take their supplies. She took out her scimitar and sharpened it slowly. A couple of months ago, her tribe laughed at her for not being able to lift the same scimitar. Now she wiped it clean off dried blood every day to keep the blade smooth. What an irony.
She calculated in her mind on how many days it would take her to infiltrate the fort, and how much blood would be spilled this time. Her well chiseled arms could wring many a strong men before she would give in, and her scimitar could very easily claim a dozen necks and many more limbs, if it ever came to it. But she knew better ways of 'persuasion' and prepared herself for it.
Soon the fire died down and as the moon rose fully, the wolves came out prowling.
--
Dusk was approaching and it would get terribly cold in the valley. She didn't fancy the idea of dying out there with her target so close by.
As the warmth of the fire spread, she brought out the final piece of dried meat and started munching through it, wondering about the day ahead. The strongest fort in the kingdom lie ahead of her. She could refill her supplies from its rich warehouses, and wouldn't have anything to worry about for months together.
But first, she had to infiltrate it. No way the guards would allow a westerner like her to walk into the gates and take their supplies. She took out her scimitar and sharpened it slowly. A couple of months ago, her tribe laughed at her for not being able to lift the same scimitar. Now she wiped it clean off dried blood every day to keep the blade smooth. What an irony.
She calculated in her mind on how many days it would take her to infiltrate the fort, and how much blood would be spilled this time. Her well chiseled arms could wring many a strong men before she would give in, and her scimitar could very easily claim a dozen necks and many more limbs, if it ever came to it. But she knew better ways of 'persuasion' and prepared herself for it.
Soon the fire died down and as the moon rose fully, the wolves came out prowling.
--
Jimitar woke up startled and peeked out of the wall in the direction of the western valley. He could hear loud howling and growls. The wolves were making a killing on some weary traveller headed to the gate which was under his division's guard. He shuddered at the thought of the tales of the demoness from the west that was the talk of the town since the last two weeks, as news of ferocious killings kept arriving from spies far west. He didn't notice the trembling wine bottles, as he reached for one and took a long gulp before going back to bed.
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