Underestimate Me

Her feet treated the clearing with great caution. She knew what she was doing was not safe. Josselyn knew she should never come this close to the village. They had run her into the forest on a muddy road further on; they had not expected her to return. The mud had splashed up her legs, covering her nakedness with shame. Her feet sinking into the muck and the substance sucking her legs in itself. She had scrambled away, partly on hands and feet, pushing herself up every time she fell down again. Blood mixed with the grease beneath her feet and she kept slipping while running towards the forest. Their laughter had surrounded her escape. They had not thought she would last more than a night. Now she was back and the road ahead was cracked from drought. No clay would suck her deeper into the earth and no men would laugh at her any more. Their faces showed fear and disbelief when she cut them down. Her bow and arrows were on her back, waiting to be sent.

A little stream was running not far from her feet. Darkness had almost fallen and the last rays of red sun where touching the stream of water. The moving water sparkled red where the sun brightened the surface. Silently she moved towards it, crouching next the fresh liquid. Her senses were still alert; she could not let herself lose her attention, for it could mean her death. Her lean fingers reached out and trapped some water inside her cupped hands. Tasting the clean cold tears on her tongue she calmed down. Her flight through the woods had helped her to regain her composure. It had drained the rage out of her, her muscles moaning and the wound on her hip still bothering her.

The water slipped through her hands and she entangled her fingers in her hair, pushing it out of her face. A little drop traveled down her neck and down her bust. She stretched her legs and stepped back into the coverage of the forest again. Her bow was tense, wanting to be used, but still on her back. The vision of Hadrian staring into the sky, with a void in his eyes that brought joy in her heart, was still before her. She wanted her boots to connect with his face, kicking that sinister smile clean off it.

Josselyn did not get to dream of her revenge for too long. Just a hint of footsteps caught her off guard and she stepped back into the vegetation. Quickly she pulled herself up against the trunk, grabbing a strong branch to hold her weight up. Her upper arms screamed as she hoisted herself higher, but the footsteps were coming closer. Clattering of armor was reaching her ears. There were two of them approaching and as they neared she could hear a female voice cut across the leaves.

Finally she raised herself onto an upper branch and crouched upon it, letting the leafy canopy conceal her, their shadows hiding her face and body. Josselyn focused on her breath, and it slowed down until she was not audible, even though the pair of strangers were still out of earshot. She had been just in time, through the little openings in the trees; she could see a dark-haired girl approaching the stream. Women would come and get water at the stream when summers dried up the well in the village. They would carry water to their homes at twilight, using it for brewing soup and stewing broth.

The dark thick hair, which Josselyn could observe from her height, reminded her of Rebecca. The girl was about Rebecca’s age; about fifteen name days old. For a moment Josselyn's breath caught in her throat and her heart sped up. This could be Rebecca, for she had not seen the girl in two whole years. The lack of oxygen almost made her keel over and drop from the trees. Just in time the girl spoke.

“You are most kind for accompanying me, Sir Tybalt. I feel endlessly more protected.” The girl’s voice was not Rebecca’s. No amount of time would make Josselyn forget the honeyed voice of her little blood sister. The girl was speaking to a knight next to her; he was dressed in mail and armor. The clattering she had heard before had been him, accompanying this dark haired and hazel eyes girl towards the stream.

“It is my pleasure as much as it is my duty, my lady,” the knight told the girl as she dropped down to the stream, filling a bucket with its refreshing water. Josselyn grabbed an arrow from her quiver and drew it along her bow. The string was tensed for the knight had only need to look up and connect with her eyes. She was lucky he was alone and one well-placed arrow just above his clavicular would be enough to buy her some time for a flight into the woods. She would not touch the girl. She would not hurt that girl in any way.

“Since the men have gone out in search for Rowen, Balor save his soul, we have been on edge.” The girl said as she raised the bucket to rest between her hand and her hip, she tilted her hip slightly to adjust it to the weight.

“You have been nimble ladies, for these rebels are more than just women with swords,” the knight told the girl. “They say they have demonic powers and can lure men into their traps. They use animal thirst and sensuality to draw men closer.” The girl covered the shocked position of her mouth with her hands and reacted like protocol.

“Sir Tybalt, would you promise me to be careful,” she stuttered.

The knight laughed a bit, his self-admiration being fed by the helpless little girl. ”Do not fear for me, for I will return with the head of their leader and as many scalps as there are rebels.” Josselyn tensed her bow. She wanted to send an arrow through his head right there and then, but the idea of killing this man right in front of this girl could not persuade her to action. She could imagine the fear and shock on the girl’s face and the disgust and horror in her eyes when she found Josselyn there. Letting this arrow fly would only confirm her to be the beast he made her out to be.

During her inner struggle, during the fight inside of her, the girl and the knight started heading back to the village. Her hands tingled, wanting to shoot the man for his foolish words, for his belief he would ever behead her. Her head refused her fingers, all for the girl. She had wished the girl to be Rebecca so badly that she had formed her likeness to this arbitrary wench.

“This is not Rebecca,” she whispered inaudibly to herself. One single tear dropped down. It landed on the quenched ground and sated it with salt.

A soft thud was the only sound that gave away her descent. She needed to return. One last glance towards the once muddy road was enough. She could not save Rebecca, not tonight. She could however go back to her other sisters and show them it was more than blood that bound her to them. It was serendipity that bound her to her sisters and was not something she could run away from. They were her family now. They were the ones she needed to protect.

~~~

Her feet brought her back towards the camp; it was a destination she could find by following the beating of her heart. It was bound to her sisters, and nearing the campsite it would speed up ever so slightly. As she almost approached the border of the vegetation, her heart told her something was off. An eerie feeling crept upon her and she started walking slower, her senses increased.

Only a few yards away she noticed movement. Immediately she ducked behind a big tree trunk. A soldier was circling the encampment. He was dressed not in mail or armor, but light leather covered his body. This was not just a soldier. This was not a footman, to be trampled in the frontline. This was a spy. A scout that had found them.

Before she knew it she had her bow drawn again and her arrow was exited to fly its route. Josselyn closed one eye and focused her sight along the point of her arrow. It was directed to fly towards his back. It was meant to pierce his back just below his left shoulder blade. The precise spot Rowen was meant to be pierced earlier this evening. The precise spot where she had wanted to kill him.

“This time I will not deliberately miss,” She whispered to herself before releasing the arrow from her bow and watching it soar towards its target.