Her vision was blurry as his fingers tightened around her throat. He was screaming at her, she could feel the hot spittle fly from his dry cracked lips onto her face. She dug her fingernails into his thick wrists, trying to kick him up and over her with her bent knees, but he was so heavy and had managed to plant himself firmly into the ground. Sometimes this happened, people who blamed her for their loses. Xariah wasn’t used to it, normally she was greeted with unblemished adoration of her feats, however, she was well aware of the blood she had shed. She inhaled and her lungs burned, a painful fire coursing through her veins that mingled with adrenaline and clouded her rational thought.
All she could hear was some garbled expression of vehement hatred directed towards her, but the rushing blood between her knife ears drowned out any coherency that the voice offered. She continued to struggle against him, but thankfully, just has the black, hazy tunnel began to become narrower and narrower, his heavy weight was shoved off of her. One of her two-hundred pound boerboel dogs had finished with the grunt that attacked it and now went to save her. Screaming could be heard as she took the time she needed to catch her breath before she could sit up. Her hands went to her throat, the skin hot and raw and if she swallowed, she winced from the pain.
She turned her head, seeing the caravan scattered from its once neat and even line. She slowly got up onto her feet, turning to watch her dog finish her killer off. She staggered towards him, kicking up clouds of sand that made her eyes watered. She kicked more hot, golden sand onto his bloodied and ruined face once Paramour had finished his job. She tried to spit in his face but her body refused her.
“You think your father is a good man?” She rasped, wanting to fall on top of him so she could batter his face further with her own two fists. Her dog growled. “Paramour,” She warned before coughing, a hand going to rub at her throat unsuccessfully. The growl turned wild, prompting her to turn and see a spray of sand, causing a large cloud of debris to raise into the sky. She squinted her red eyes at the incoming thing, wishing that she had been some sort of hawk beastkin in that moment. “Shroudworm?” Her other dogs came to her side, their maws dripping with blood and sand. All four of her dogs growled low, hackles raised.
“Curse the Mother and her Children!” Xariah screamed, voice soon hoarse. She was quick this time in gathering her boys, running deliriously from the bodies to a wagon attached to a large, orange and gold lizard-beast the size of a moose from Lapvona. She urged her dogs onto the wagon, kicking off the barrels of water until only one remained. Her dogs were heavy, and she debated throwing off more supplies. She looked over her shoulder, short black hair whipping against her face as the shroudworm came ever closer. The wind chimes clanged against one another inharmoniously, and that was when she saw them, others who had been attacked by the raiders.
“Well, if you’re alive then get on and make yourself useful by making some noise!” Some wagons were already pulling away, whips snapping against the iridescent horns of the lizard-beasts. Xariah threw off more boxes, seeing fruit tumbled off into the sand, bright smooth skin shining nearly white beneath the sun’s glare.
All she could hear was some garbled expression of vehement hatred directed towards her, but the rushing blood between her knife ears drowned out any coherency that the voice offered. She continued to struggle against him, but thankfully, just has the black, hazy tunnel began to become narrower and narrower, his heavy weight was shoved off of her. One of her two-hundred pound boerboel dogs had finished with the grunt that attacked it and now went to save her. Screaming could be heard as she took the time she needed to catch her breath before she could sit up. Her hands went to her throat, the skin hot and raw and if she swallowed, she winced from the pain.
She turned her head, seeing the caravan scattered from its once neat and even line. She slowly got up onto her feet, turning to watch her dog finish her killer off. She staggered towards him, kicking up clouds of sand that made her eyes watered. She kicked more hot, golden sand onto his bloodied and ruined face once Paramour had finished his job. She tried to spit in his face but her body refused her.
“You think your father is a good man?” She rasped, wanting to fall on top of him so she could batter his face further with her own two fists. Her dog growled. “Paramour,” She warned before coughing, a hand going to rub at her throat unsuccessfully. The growl turned wild, prompting her to turn and see a spray of sand, causing a large cloud of debris to raise into the sky. She squinted her red eyes at the incoming thing, wishing that she had been some sort of hawk beastkin in that moment. “Shroudworm?” Her other dogs came to her side, their maws dripping with blood and sand. All four of her dogs growled low, hackles raised.
“Curse the Mother and her Children!” Xariah screamed, voice soon hoarse. She was quick this time in gathering her boys, running deliriously from the bodies to a wagon attached to a large, orange and gold lizard-beast the size of a moose from Lapvona. She urged her dogs onto the wagon, kicking off the barrels of water until only one remained. Her dogs were heavy, and she debated throwing off more supplies. She looked over her shoulder, short black hair whipping against her face as the shroudworm came ever closer. The wind chimes clanged against one another inharmoniously, and that was when she saw them, others who had been attacked by the raiders.
“Well, if you’re alive then get on and make yourself useful by making some noise!” Some wagons were already pulling away, whips snapping against the iridescent horns of the lizard-beasts. Xariah threw off more boxes, seeing fruit tumbled off into the sand, bright smooth skin shining nearly white beneath the sun’s glare.
