Enemies

[Skiffy]

Enemies

Part One

[Trigger Warning: This gets physically violent in places]

Trees creaked and whistled as the wind flew through them. I planted my spear firmly into the snow-covered ground and stood motionless, straining to hear anything other than wind making its way through the forest, but it was no use.

“I guess it’s up to my eyes to do the hunting today,” I mumbled aloud to the spirits or to myself as I made my way deeper into the woods.

~*~

“t’cha”

I froze to the spot, my grip tightened around the shaft of my weapon. I tried to pinpoint the source of the strange and distant sound. East. Beyond the stream. Cautiously, I moved towards it. I stayed low to the ground, my footsteps gentle and silent. Another sound shot out from the background of creaking trees. An anguished, barking growl of a sound rumbled through the forest. My heart raced, suddenly I was no longer certain of who would soon become the meal. It was closer now, but I could tell it was over the stony ridge- down a steep hill from where I was. The spirits had given me this advantage- a sign that I couldn’t walk away from this hunt. Crawling now, hidden in the undergrowth, I crept over the ridge until, finally, I caught a view of this creature.

“Ugh,” she groaned, wiping her face with one of her ragged gauntlets. Not a wolf, just another weather-beaten person, trudging through the snow. I blew out a sigh of relief and laughed at my own stupidity. I only saw the back of her- a thin cloak and a sack she carried over her shoulder. I didn’t recognise her as anyone I knew. I stood up, calling out to the stranger,

“Hello there. I thought you were some snarling beast. I seem to have made a mistake. How’s your day?” The young woman spun round, startled. That’s when I saw her tunic- it was a deep shade of red. The stranger was a Kreffitan. An enemy of our tribe. Her tribe was responsible for the some of the most brutal attacks on my people. The elders told stories of blood-red warriors, screaming towards our camps in the night, blades glistening in the light of their torches. I had encountered them once before, as a child. Back then, I could only hide and watch as…as those monsters…

“AARGGH!” I grabbed my spear and launched it at the enemy. But in my haste and overwhelming rage, I had missed completely. The Kreffitan immediately scrambled away, dropping her sack in favour of my spear which stuck out of the ground beside her. I tumbled down the scree after her and whipped my skinning-knife out of its sheath. The stranger was clumsy and slow, I soon caught her up. I flung myself at her. My attempt at plunging my knife into her flesh only succeeded in ricocheting off my own spear, knocking the knife from my hand. She spun round and swiped at me with the spear, just grazing my shoulder. I grabbed the familiar wooden shaft with both hands and slammed her against a tree with it. We caught each other’s gaze for a moment. I expected something of my own fury and hatred to be reflected back at me. But I saw only fear. Then her face twisted into a pained expression. With that reward, I pushed the weapon even harder against her. Slowly, her mouth gaped open, her eyes narrowed. Her chest heaved against my force as she gasped for air.

“Hehhhit’CHA!” She sprayed my bare arms as she sneezed. Before she could regain her focus, I let one hand release the spear and swiftly brought my elbow up to contact her skull. With a satisfying thud, I knocked her to the ground. Straddled on top of her, I searched for her own weapon. I found none. Though her body was clearly muscular and firm like my own, pinning her was surprisingly easy. “Please. Please let me go,” she begged as she tried in vain to squirm out of my grip. “I’m not here to hu- huhh…huhhet’CHIA!” her whole body tensed beneath mine before falling back down, limply, into the snow. I spat on the ground beside her- disgusted by what I had just felt hit my tongue as I leaned over her, panting breathlessly. I stared down at the pathetic creature. Unarmed. Weak. Sick. This was not what I had come to expect of a Kreffitan.

“What tribe?” I demanded. The stranger looked down at her blood-red clothing, sniffed and quietly cleared her throat. She seemed to be buying time while she decided how to respond. She looked back up at me and slowly nodded.

“Kreffit.” I had never heard that word spoken so delicately, with so little anger and revulsion behind it. It was insulting. My grip around her wrists tightened, my nails sinking into her skin. “You’re Nochish, aren’t you? I know what my tribe has done to yours,” her voice was low and hoarse, and shaking with fear. “I’m so sorry. It’s…it’s unforgivable. But we’re not all like that, it’s our leaders- they blame you for all of -uhh- our prob-…problems and…uhh…huhh…hehhit’chuh! heh-ihht’CHA!” The space between us filled with heavy, glistening mist in the cold air. “I’m just trying to pass through, I didn’t even know you had settled here, please, please don’t kill-“ she broke off suddenly, coughing harshly. The same barking sound that had me scared solid a few minute ago. She didn’t seem like much of a monster. Not at all like the stories and drawings had described, or like I had remembered. But she was a Kreffitan. What should I do? I take pride in my intelligence, my bravery and my skill. Looking down at the feeble, trembling person at my mercy, I realised there would be no skill or bravery in ending this life. And anyway- when I threw my spear before, I missed. I never miss. It must have been the will of the spirits.

[NoV]

Hey, I'm liking this a lot already! Great historical details and some lovely sneezing. I'm guessing from the ease of your writing that this is a period of history that interests you??

[Skiffy]

Thank you, glad you like it. I know nothing of history, so this isn't really meant to be historically accurate at all or based in any particular place, time, reality, etc. (Bronze-age-ish was the only way I could think to describe it though...) So, please don't get your hopes up for historical accuracy .

[count tiszula]

Lovely! And an interesting reversal of the sneezing while hiding story. The maiden huntress is a constant theme I suspect from earliest times, but I would set this clearly amongst the Picts and Scots; I expect St Columba O'Neill to turn up in the next episode when the sneezy captive is taken home [for severe naughtiness].