Tuesday, 4 November 2014

Revens Fang - Scent:Part 8

Reven reacted without thought. He shoved the woman aside and leapt toward the man. In one fluid motion he pulled the knife away from Fangs throat with his left hand and landed a punch on the man’s jaw with his right. The man toppled backwards and Reven wrenched the blade free from his flailing hand and landed on top of the knifeman. Reven went to put the knife the man’s throat but Fang beat him to it. Opening his jaws wide he clamped his mouth around the man’s neck holding him immobile. The sound of the woman’s blade rasping from its scabbard brought Reven to his feet. She had recovered from the rude shove she had been given and now stood in a fighting stance, her blade pointed at Reven. Curiously she had a wide smile on her face and the momentary respite left Reven asking himself what had just happened. The strength and speed he just displayed took him by surprise, he never knew he was capable of knocking a grown man to the ground. 

Fang growled as the man strained against him. Bright red blood was visible at the edge of Fangs mouth, his razor sharp teeth cutting further into the man as he struggled. The woman relaxed her pose and spoke, “He’s fast, and the hound broke your spell. This must be the boy”. Reven relaxed his stance as well, confused at her words. “Please call off your beast child. We mean you no harm” she put her blade away and held her hands out palms up to emphasise her words. Reven backed up past the man and called Fang to him who obeyed and took his place at Reven’s side. The man on the floor gulped in breath and gingerly felt the wounds on his neck. The cuts were superficial but had bled quite freely in Fangs grasp. Blood trickled down the man’s neck as he stood. “He packs quite a punch” the man said moving his hand from his neck to his jaw. “What’s going on?” enquired Reven, “Who are you?” The man stood next to the woman before answering. “My name is Reynard and this is my companion Aisha, we are travellers of sorts” the man was brushing dirt from his cloak as he spoke. Now his cowl was thrown back Reven could see he had several days’ worth of stubble on his face and had long brown hair that disappeared under his cloak. His rigid leather armour was held in place by a series of buckles and his leather trousers had patches of the same hard leather over his thighs and shins. His armour was inlaid with swirling silver patterns, it looked expensive. The woman was dressed similarly but where her companions face spoke of hardiness and a tough life her face radiated beauty and serenity. Wide green eyes shone out from her dusky oval face. High cheek bones and a petite pinched nose were accentuated by the rain that ran down her face. Her lips were full and pouting and again sported a smile that warmed Reven somewhat. “We need to talk with you” said Reynard. 

A moan came from behind the pair and they spun round to face what they perceived as a threat. It was just Gertie climbing unsteadily to her feet. Rubbing a lump on the side of her head the size of half a plum and similar in colour. She spoke as if drunk, “What happened, that brute had me against the wall and then my world turned black”. Aisha and Reynard moved to steady her as she tottered on her feet. Gertie saw Roche’s body and moved towards him pushing the pair’s hands away from her as she did so. She looked down at his body and spat on his corpse and then booted him in the head for good measure, “Good riddance….bastard!” hatred dripped from her every word. Reynard and Aisha exchange a glance and looked as if they were stifling a laugh. For a moment the foursome stood looking at each other. The rain continued to beat down and eventually Reynard motioned for them to go inside, “Come on, we have things to discuss….and I have a terrible thirst”. He flashed a wolfish grin at Aisha who rolled her eyes in response and they made their way into the inn through the back door. Gertie waved Reven closer and then leaned on him heavily as they made their way inside. Fang trotted in after them only pausing to lick his lips at the bloody mess of bodies they were leaving in their wake.

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