In the meantime, another short story with my two favorite characters. This one comes from the sequel, when they're responsible for a friend's infant daughter. As you'll see with the length, I really, really enjoyed writing this piece. I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it as much as I did.
It's another piece with a lot of focus on the emotional/mental side of these two characters. It's another piece where the characters undergo a near radical change of mind/heart at the end of things... only instead of being sad or angry, I've actually written one with a pleasant, heartwarming ending.
"How do we find ourselves in these sort of things?" He asked while gently petting Neon, their green-furred cat.
"Eya is a close friend of mine," the redheaded woman replied briskly, pacing about the room with the crying infant on her shoulder. "Until she escapes, somebody has to look after Mayre -- not only can Mayre not defend herself, she needs to be alive... just in case Eya doesn't make it alive."
"You sound so calm about the prospect of your friend being killed, y'know." He stared at the green cat, which stared back through goldenrod eyes. Having the child around had greatly annoyed him, as it cried through all hours of the night and made it impossible to sleep. Not only that, the child was being hunted... as if he and his girlfriend needed any more bounties placed on them.
"It's a very real possibility. It's always a possibility."
"Why can't we have any period of time longer than three days that isn't hectic?" He got up. "I'm going to take a walk. I won't go far."
Why does he bother to tell me that, she thought to herself. He never strays far from me, always afraid something'll happen. She watched as he walked from the room and heard the front door on the bottom floor shut a few moments later. She sat on the side of the bed and looked at the child, a pale-skinned baby girl with tiny curls of red on her head. The normally tough and stoic woman couldn't help but smile.
"Don't worry about him," she reassured little Mayre, who yawned. "He's just stubborn. Give him time and he'll protect you just as strongly as he protects me." She held the infant closer and rocked her body slowly, feeling the child gently nuzzle against her neck. She hummed a song, a lullaby she remembered from her own mother, and shivered softly.
"Sing me the song, Mommy," the little blonde girl asked as she sat up in her bed. Her eyes glittered with childhood innocence and happiness, the very definition of a child unscarred and greatly loved.
"Only once, my little princess, and then it will be bedtime." A beautiful young woman with flowing brown hair smiled at her daughter. In sweet chords that could only be produced from angels, a song took form.
My child, I will be your light.
There will be no need for you to fear,
Just call my name and I will appear.
My little girl, you grow each passing day
But please don't ever grow away.
The redheaded woman opened her eyes from her reverie, green eyes misty with remembrance. She rocked a bit slower, held Mayre tighter, and sang the words softly to her.
The peace was abruptly shattered by a flurry of sounds. Growling, snarling dogs; screeching cats; multiple pairs of stomping footsteps. The woman snapped immediately out of her brooding and looked up at the bedroom door as it was broken in. A flood of undead soldiers poured into the room, swiping and growling. She jumped to her feet and withdrew her sword from the pillow on which it was rested, holding Mayre tight against her shoulder.
"She... is... ours..." The creatures groaned. "So... are... you..."
The redhead shook her head and swung the blade with remarkable force, stepping back as they swung back at her, swinging for the child. Mayre began to sob, awoken from her sleep and sensing the situation.
I hope the blood plant still works, the woman thought frightfully to herself, gradually backing up more. She focused her energy as best she could, and hoped.
He was leaned against a tree about a quarter mile from the house, dog Chelsea at his side. She seemed to follow him everywhere, and was quietly leaned against his leg as he stared off into nowhere.
He was growing weary of the fighting. Ever since he had been with her, all they did was run, hide, and fight. She was a strong, stubborn woman, and she fought with the strength of a man... while it was incredible and it was something he loved about her, he also felt himself a bit inferior. He'd grown up to expect that the male protected his lover. And while he'd come to her rescue many times, she always said, "I had it handled!" Every time she said that, it felt like another little dagger.
Chelsea's ears perked up just as he stood upright, a very strange expression suddenly bore on his face. He reached into a pocket and pulled out the crimson root he always carried with him. It was the blood plant -- an alchemist had bonded the two lovers by taking three drops of blood from each of them and mixing them upon the root of a flower, and then enchanting with a salve. Presently it was giving off a strange, pale glow. His glance peered over his shoulder into the night, and a dreadfully familiar feeling rushed over him.
"Gotta get home," he murmured softly. Halfway into the first syllable, he was sprinting through the night, gripping the sword at his right side. He made the quarter mile jaunt in very little time, stopping and quietly approaching the house.
The fur on the back of Chelsea's neck stood on end, and a soft growling rumbled in her throat. She stood between her master and the house, her pale brown eyes never releasing grip on the sight of the house. He looked up at the front door and found it broken off its hinges, laying in the living area. Moving shadows on the second floor caught his eye, and he both shivered and growled at the same time.
He practically leapt into the living area, sword withdrawn and defensively held in front of himself. He could hear the horrid sound of Mayre crying -- though presently, it held a whole new dimension to him. It suddenly wasn't annoying; it suddenly was his responsibility. He heard a metallic sound, awful groaning, and a feminine shout. He ran up the stairs, three at a time.
He found them all gathered in the bedroom. His love was huddled in a corner, her sword having been knocked to one side, out of reach. She was cowered on the floor, hunched over in an effort to protect the innocent child from harm. Her back and shoulders had suffered several lacerations as the creatures slashed at her.
A quick thought passed his mind -- if this would've been the sight before him a year ago, he'd be nearly paralyzed with fear. But things were different now, and what would've been fear turned into an instinctual anger. He closed his eyes and thrust his blade through the midsection of the nearest creature, bracing for its screech.
The others, five of them, turned around. He took a half step back as one of them stumbled forward and an eye fell out of its socket. Another's skin crawled with maggots and insects. A third one's head had been cracked open, probably from the earlier struggle, revealing a pulsing mass. The fourth had no torso to speak of -- instead it was a gaping hole with its ribs and spine visible. The fifth was steadily falling into pieces. A disgusted shiver ran through him, but the fear within him was extinguished everytime he spied his girlfriend huddled in the corner.
Chelsea lunged forward and grabbed hold of one of the demons in her teeth. She growled and swung her neck back and forth, ripping off the victim's already loosened arm. He took the opportunity to behead it with one quick swipe of his blade. The other four closed in, and he took a half step back. Chelsea jumped again and sent one tumbling to the ground. One of the remaining three took a swing at the dog, and found its arm sliced off. It attempted to wrestle the sword from its attacker, but failed and found itself torn into pieces.
The redhead looked up from her defensive position, her every movement sending stabs of pain through her body. Mayre was unharmed, only distraught by the situation and sobbing loudly as a result. She looked on as her normally collected lover was swinging with a passion she'd only seen once before in her life -- when she was at the mercy of the Ghost King himself. A quick smile passed her lips before she noticed one last undead soldier preparing to attack from behind. She hid the baby underneath some clothes and crawled weakly to her sword, which had been kicked nearly under the bed.
He turned in time to have his sword knocked from his hand. His eyes locked with the one eye of the last demon, and he shuddered despite himself. Chelsea threw herself forward, but was easily thrown to the side by the creature. He shut his eyes tight and waited for the onslaught, only to hear the awful sound of tearing flesh. He opened an eye and saw his girlfriend, trembling from effort, her sword cut straight through the creature. It screeched an awful screech, and seem to melt into a pile of dust.
The raid was over.
He exhaled the breath he was unaware he was holding, and looked down at the dog standing loyally at his side. He knelt down and wrapped his arms around her neck, praising her softly. "Good girl," he murmured. "Very good girl."
The world seemed to reappear, and the buzzing that had filled his ears suddenly became audible sounds. A soft, pained coughing caught his attention, and he quickly stepped forward to catch his precious lover as she collapsed, unable to support herself any longer.
"I know I shouldn't ask," he spoke, almost bitterly. "But are you alright?" There was no response immediately, which prompted him to hurriedly retract her away far enough that he could see her face. Her eyes were shut and she was trembling, and this scared him. He shook her softly. "Are you alright?"
Her eyes opened halfway and she murmured, "Mayre..."
"She's fine," he replied. "What about you? I assume you had it handled?"
She looked at him with a look of relief and submissiveness he'd never witnessed before. Something about her body language suggested weakness and fragility, two things she never exposed. "No," she spoke softly, lapsing in and out of consciousness. "I... I didn't."
He blinked and nearly dropped her. "Wh... what?"
"I didn't... have it handled. Not this time..." She smiled weakly at him. "Thank you..."
"For what?"
"For helping me... I couldn't do it on my own."
He beamed, albeit sadly. It was bittersweet. He had finally heard what he had waited so long to hear, but hearing it while seeing what had to be endured put a bad taste in the back of his mouth. He hugged her close and gently laid her on their bed, running two fingers gently along the curvature of her face.
"Don't worry about Mayre," he said softly to her. "I'll take care of her. You've been injured. You need to rest."
"But I thought..."
He smiled, ever reassuring. "I changed my mind."
She gently squeezed his hand in hers. "Thank you..."
He felt her grip on his hand loosen, and watched her eyes roll back. She limpened and lapsed into unconsciousness. He felt a tightness in his chest as he thought how close he could've come to losing her. And all because of his depressed bitterness. But he'd heard what he so desperately needed to hear, and his spirits were renewed.
No more feeling sorry for myself, he instructed himself. It's so much bigger than me or her. She needs me to be here, one-hundred percent... not anything less. She can't do it on her own, and I'm going to make sure she doesn't have to... and I'll do whatever it takes to prove it. To her... and to myself.
He gently picked up little Mayre from her hiding place, his ears immediately assaulted by her screaming sobs. But rather than hold her out and away like he had done all along, he smiled awkwardly and held her against his shoulder. He found himself slowly saying aloud to nobody,
Just call my name and I will appear..."
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